District 9 was a barren waste of space. Dean and Sam had grown up alone, their father a prominent Capitol official that had no sentiment for his family. Their mother had died when Dean and Sam were very young. Life was a monotonous blur of grey for the boys; each day was the same. Until one warm March day.

Spring had come early. The sun shone proudly in the sky and wind blew gently through the wheat in the fields surrounding the small village where Dean and Sam lived. Peacekeepers, Capitol officials that prevented rebellions, were everywhere. Their white suits reflected the iridescent sunlight, the white light glinting on the shiny surfaces. Everything was okay, it seemed. It was a normal reaping.

The brothers gathered in the arena where the reaping had taken place for, now, 76 years. They were separated due to their difference in age, but that didn't stop Sam from glancing over at his older brother Sam had always depended on Dean for moral support during the games. Though he only had 33 entries, he was still nervous about being picked. Dean, however, had close to 60 due to the tesserae rations he had acquired from the capitol.

Lailen Everwood was a spasmodic man. Everybody knew when he'd arrived due to the techno music and glitter storm that followed him everywhere. He was a prime example of the Capitol's terrifying sense of style and behavior. As everybody made their way to their age sections, Lailen climbed onto the stage and beamed at the crowd. He seemed genuinely excited; he probably wasn't smart enough to feel otherwise.

"Welcome, welcome!" He chimed. "Welcome to District 9's reaping for the 76th Hunger Games!" He stopped, awaiting applause, but none came. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he continued. "Ladies first!" He pranced over to the clear ball containing the names of every eligible female in District 9. Reaching in, he tossed the names around with his hand, picking one after a long 10 seconds or so. Walking back to the microphone, he chimed out the name printed in careful handwriting on the card. "Kenna Rivers." The arena was silent. Kenna, a beautiful girl in her early 20's, approached the stage stiffly. Her face was blank in shock and her hands were clenched into tight fists.

"Right." Choked Lailen. "And now for the boy!" Skipping over to the second clear bowl, Lailen picked a second name out and approached the microphone stand once more. He paused, reading over the name a second time. "Sam.. Sam Winchester."

Sam stopped breathing. Every muscle in his body clenched. Dean took in one short, pained breath and turned to face his brother. His baby brother.

"Hello? Sam Winchester?" Lailen spoke softly into the microphone.

Sam, finally gaining the ability to move, started taking small steps towards the stage. Dean registered what his brother was doing and, panicking, yelled out, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

The arena froze. Sam turned sharply to face Dean, who was red in the face from yelling so hard; he was afraid nobody would hear him and he would lose his baby brother to the deathhole that was the games. Sam, trying desperately to talk his brother out of what he had done, was dragged back to his place by the Peacekeepers.

The same Peacekeepers came to collect Dean, but dragged him the other way.