A/N I'm sure most of you think I'm this shriveled up little thing who laments and melancholizes (yes, that's not a word, I know, but screw you) everything. And, seriously, reading over my stories, I think I am. At least, a part of me is. But there is also this part of me that is optimistic and happy and exuberant, and I guess I just wanted some of that in my writing. Anyway, slightly happier take on the ever-looming threat of the Final Trial. :) ~Sammy

Is it really so impossible to believe in fairy tales? Is it so preposterous to hope for a happy ending? Is it so ridiculous to be optimistic?

In our case, yes, yes it is.

Our lives have been one shit-load of pain after another. Honestly, I'm surprised that neither of us had cracked and just gone on a killing spree yet. We do fit your average serial-killer profile, after all.

But nah, going crazy is too easy, it's an escape. We just have to do everything the hardest way possible, dragging a couple dozen tones more of emotional baggage along the way. Because we're Winchesters, and easy isn't in our dictionary.

There should be some limit as to how much crap a person has to deal with in their existence.

But no, last I checked, we're still Winchesters, no matter what the five credit cards in my wallet say in the contrary.

Life just seems to enjoy taking a dump on us at regular intervals.

Really, it's quite a rush, you should try it sometime. Or, y'know, don't.

So what new steaming pile of doggy-doo was presented to us this time?

Oh, nothing much. Just closing the gates of hell, trying not to be killed by angels and demons, tracking down missing prophets, locating missing tablets… the usual.

Totally not overwhelming. Not at all.

Oh, and trying not to panic when your little brother is hacking his lungs out and can barely move without being in pain? Piece of cake.

Should it have been me taking the burden of the trials on my shoulders? Hell yeah. Sammy's already repaid his debt to the world. He's already saved the world once.

But is that enough?

From the looks of things, evidently not.

So I just try to hold myself together, for Sammy's sake. I need to be strong, so that he doesn't have to be.

I'm there with a roll of paper towels when he's coughing up blood. I'm there to catch him when he stumbles. I'm there to guide him to his bed when he's about to collapse. I'm there to carry him through it all. I'm there for him, when all he really needs is his big brother.

I don't know what the third trial is going to be. I do know that I'm not going to like it one bit.

I know that it's a broken man's dream, a desperate prayer, an empty wish, a false hope, to believe that he's going to make it through this.

There may be a light at the end, even if I can't see it.

Thing is though, I need Sam to show me where it is, to lead me to the place where we can finally just be done.

So what if fairy tales don't exist?

We've cheated death before.

So what if it's just wishful thinking?

We've stopped the apocalypse.

So what if hope is a thing of the past?

We're the Winchesters, we don't take things lying down.

So the Third Trial can go screw itself. Every sonuvabitch that wants to hurt my baby brother can stick it where the sun don't shine.

I've got my brother now, and I sure as hell ain't letting go.

A/N If you were looking for angst from me, go read this again, I'm sure you'll find something. I have a track record to keep up, remember? Angst in every story! Review if you want me to keep up the angstiness. :) ~Sammy