It is the night before the Reaping, before the Tributes are going to be chosen.

Sam can't sleep, he is just lying in his bed, but he isn't asleep. I walk upstairs to his room.

"Dean, is that you?" Sam asks.

"Yes, it's me," I say. "Can't you sleep?"

"No." He shakes his head.

"Why not?"

"I had this awful dream," he says. "I needed to go."

"Where did you need to go?" I'm sitting on his bed now, thinking what I'll do if he needs to go. Sam swallows.

"To the arena."

"All right," I say. "But you know it won't happen. Right?" He looks up to me.

"I guess," he says.

"So you're safe, nothing's gonna happen to you," I say. "So you can sleep." I ruffle his brown hair.

"But what if I can't sleep?" he asks. "'Cause I don't think I can."

I look around me, checking if nobody's listening.

"I'll sing," I say. Sam smiles and I tuck him in.

"Yes, can you sing for me?" he asks.

I nod and pull my legs onto his bed, so I can sit with my legs crossed.

"Okay," I say, slightly uncomfortable, and I start to sing. It's very off-key, but Sam likes it.

"Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done." I go on until Sam is asleep.

When he finally sleeps, I go downstairs. Dad is in the kitchen. He doesn't look very happy.

"Dean," he says.

"Yes, father?" I reply.

"Did you just tuck Sam in and sing for him?" he asks.

I nod. "Yes, isn't that what big brothers do?"

He shakes his head. "He's got to learn how to do that by himself, just like you did," he says. "He isn't a baby anymore. You know that."

I nod. "But he was scared and I thought…" I see the look on his face. "Yes, father, he isn't a baby anymore." I look at the ground and walk to my own room.

"Goodnight, Dean," my father says.

"Goodnight," I mumble.

The next morning I wake up and walk downstairs immediately. It's already quite late and Sam is downstairs at the diner table.

"Good morning Dean," he says. He looks like he slept well.

"Hi Sam," I say, while spreading butter on my piece of bread. I take a seat next to Sam and take a bite from my piece of bread.

When we've finished eating we stand up and walk to the bathroom.

"Let's go and make you a big boy, Sam," I say and I give him the suit Dad and I bought for him.

"It's nice, but it looks very tight," he says.

"Yes, but it's supposed to be," I say. "It will fit you perfectly. I know that." I leave him alone so he can put on the suit and I put on my own too. My suit has always been tight, but it still fits well enough.

Sam walks out of the bathroom with the suit on.

"See? You look like a gentleman," I say, looking at him from head to toes. He really looks like a gentleman, but I know what it means.

If a boy gets a suit, that means he can be part of the Hunger Games and that is the biggest nightmare of every child and its parents.

"You think so?" he asks. "You look better than me in a suit." He is watching me like he did every year at this time of the year. The look in his eyes, so scared of what will happen.

"Dean! Sam! Are you ready?" Dad's voice screams up the staircase.

"Yes, father." I take Sam's hand and we both walk downstairs. Dad nods when he sees us.

"It fits," he says. Sam looks to the ground.

"Hé, Sam," I say. "There's nothing going to happen." He nods.

We walk outside where a lot of children between the ages of twelve and eighteen are walking around. I hold Sam's hand tightly.

"Hold my hand and don't let go till I say so," I say to Sam. Sam nods and holds my hand even more tightly than first.

We get to a table where people need to get a pin prick and then they need to push their finger onto the paper next to their name.

"Does it hurt?" Sam asks.

"No," I say. "It just stings a little."

It's Sam's turn and I see that it's hurting him. He pushes his finger onto the paper, where it creates a fingerprint of blood. I go immediately after Sam and watch where he's going.

Sam is standing in the biggest group of them all. The children aged twelve to fourteen. I need to stand in a smaller group, children aged fifteen to sixteen. There's another group and that's the smallest, the almost grown up children, aged seventeen to eighteen. There's also a big group of parents, children that are not old enough and other grown ups.

I can't see Sam anymore, there are too many children. There are a lot of noises, but that's obviously because there are that many children.

Then, in a moment, it's completely soundless. It's completely quiet, the only thing you hear is one voice. A lady's voice.

She says: "Welcome, to the sixty-fourth Hunger Games." Her voice echoes through the entire District, so it seems.

"We're going to choose one boy and one girl. If you're chosen you need to join the Hunger Games of this year." The lady is quiet for a moment. "Ladies first,"

she then says and she puts her hand in the bowl that's filled with names of all the girls, aged twelve to eighteen, from District Two. Her hand is gliding through the bowl. It lasts a few minutes before she takes one piece of paper, then she finally has one. She slowly opens it and reads the name that is on the paper.

"Sophie Macken," she calls the name. "Sophie Macken," she repeats, louder this time.

A little girl of Sam's age – maybe a little older – walks up to the stage. I hear a man screaming and a woman starts to cry, very loudly. The girl looks to the ground, I think she is hiding her tears.

The woman on the stage helps her get on the podium and then she holds her hand in the air.

"Sophie Macken!" the woman on the podium shouts through the crowd.

"We have our girl," she says. "Now the boy."

She puts her hand in the other bowl that's on the podium. She lets her fingers slip through the pieces of paper in the bowl.

This always is a very scary moment for all of the boys. Your name could be on the card that has been grabbed. I'm scared too. Scared that I get picked, but even more scared that Sam gets picked.

It lasts so long before the woman on the podium has grabbed a piece of paper.

Then she has one. It's a small, white piece of paper, just like the rest of them. She very, very slowly opens it. She folds first one side and then the other. She opens her mouth, then closes it again. I can see her read the name that is written on the piece of paper and I pray it's not mine. My stomach hurts just like all the other times around now. Now the woman is really going to read it. She opens her mouth and says:"Samuel Winchester."

I can't believe it! No, not Sam!

"Samuel Winchester," she repeats.

I see Sam step out of the crowd, he isn't looking up. He's just staring at the ground. He walks very slowly; he is very scared. On that moment I run up to him.

"Nooo, Sammy!" I scream, tears are streaming over my cheeks. Two Peacekeepers are holding me back. I can't let Sam go, he won't survive. Sam looks at me. At that moment I decide I'll go instead of Sam. "I volunteer," I cry, while fighting the Peacekeepers.

"I volunteer!" I say, now louder.

"NO, you're not, Dean!" I hear from the crowd. "Sam is picked he goes!" It's Dad, he needs me; that is why I can't go. I'm a good fighter, so I'll go instead of Sam whether he wants it or not. Sam would die. I've got a chance to survive.

Dad's running out of the crowd and he pulls me back, away from the podium.

"I'll go," I say, loud enough so everyone can hear me.

"NO, you won't!" Dad angrily says. I'm pissed at him: he can't let Sam go!

"You can't let Sam go, he is too young!" I yell at him. I squirm myself out of his arms. I angrily wipe a tear from my cheek and then put my hands on my hips.

"I'll go instead of Sam," I say resolutely. I walk up to Sammy and rub his hair.

"No, Dean, I can't go on without you," he cries.

"Yes, you can," I say. "I'll come back, I promise." I know I can't make my promise come true, but maybe it will help him calm down.

The Peacekeepers pull Sam back to Dad who's really angry at me. Dad needs to hold Sam very tightly, because if he doesn't, Sam will run up to me.

"May I know your name?" the woman asks me.

"Dean Winchester," I mumble. I'm crying on the outside, but on the inside I'm breaking at the moment.

"Can you say it again?" the lady asks.

"Dean Winchester," I say, now louder.

"We have our boy," she shouts into the crowd of people. "Dean Winchester!"

She takes my hand and puts it in the air. I look at Sam and Dad.

Sam is crying out. Dad, on the other hand, is furious, not even happy that Sam could stay, but I know he's scared on the inside. I feel a tear dripping out of my eye, then it is heading for my cheek, but before it drips on the ground I wipe it from my face. I can't hear anything anymore, I guess I'm in shock.

Now I really realize what I just did. I gave up my live to save Sammy's.

It's maybe stupid, but deep in my heart, I'm very proud of that.