Dean heard a woman screaming, and then Sam's voice shout, "NO!" Then there was the slight catch in the chainsaw's motor as it obviously hit something solid.
Then there was silence.
"SAM!" Dean shouted as he tried – unsuccessfully – to run to where he thought he'd last heard sounds. He hadn't gotten very far when he heard the chainsaw start up again . . . right behind him.
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Dean stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the saw rumble, eyes going wide. He still had no idea what had happened to Sam or where the woman had come from. He knew he hadn't gone far enough to pass his brother and this creature. And he didn't have a clue how to kill it. With those thoughts in mind, he slowly turned around.
The sight didn't really surprise him. He'd seen Friday the 13th many times before and knew what Jason looked like. He'd made fun of the movie for countless hours. So it was ironic, then, when Dean decided he couldn't run because the Jason from the movie could walk menacingly slowly and still somehow always be caught up with the screaming, running, frantic victim. It would be a waste of time. Not having many other options, the hunter jerked out his lighter, glanced down at it while biting his lip, and stuck it back in his pocket. That never worked. That one had been tried too many times. He fumbled for the gun, his heart beating more rapidly as the chainsaw neared him. But still, he didn't move from his position.
When he could feel the churning air from the whirling blade, Dean knew he was in serious trouble. The gun was out but his brain kept shouting that it was useless against Jason. And in the end, it didn't matter, anyway; he heard a familiar voice shout, "Drop!" and found that his body obeyed before his brain had finished processing the command. Sam flew through the air where Dean's head had been only moments before, a large, flat rock held out in front of him as a shield. The rock deflected the chainsaw's killing blade and then the hunter plowed into Jason with tremendous force. The saw, which was surprisingly corporeal, dropped harmlessly to the ground. Dean was sitting up at this point, his throbbing wrist cradled at his chest protectively. He was about to get up to help Sam when said brother rolled off Jason Voorhees and ran for Dean.
"Are you okay?" he asked, panting.
"Kill that guy, Sam!" Dean growled.
"What do you think I've been trying to do for the last twenty minutes?" Sam snapped back. "Anyway, we have to run. There's been an unfortunate development."
He held his hand out to help his older brother up, and hardly noticed when his one hand hauled all of Dean's weight up. He glanced back at Jason, who had retrieved his chainsaw and was coming at the brothers again.
"Hurry," he murmured, inserting himself once again as a human crutch for Dean and pushing the two of them forward. "We don't have much time."
"You can say that again," the elder Winchester returned. "What's this new development?"
"Uh, I'll tell you later."
"Sam," Dean said, his voice a warning.
Sam glanced back at Jason, who was, naturally, gaining on them. "You're about to find out," he answered.
The brothers came around a tree and stopped dead in their tracks when they saw a man standing in front of them. The problem was that this wasn't just any man. This was one they both knew well. He was shorter than Sam but still formidable. He had a long knife in one hand and wore a plain white mask over his face and neck. And even though they couldn't see facial expressions through his mask, it was probably safe to assume he didn't look happy. Dean gasped at the sight, not yet registering that the rumble of the chainsaw had started up again behind him.
"Is that –"
"Dean, meet Michael Myers," Sam said hurriedly, noting the knife coming up and toward the two of them. "We've already met once tonight."
And with that, he used his weight to shove his brother to the ground. The knife swung directly into the chainsaw blade behind them, and metal clashed against metal in a horrific screech. By this time, Dean had recovered from his temporary shock and was coming back to his feet, with added help from his half-panicked little brother.
"Run," Sam whispered when they were both up.
"No arguments here," Dean managed to say as he tried to ignore the pounding in his ankle and took off at a slow stumble.
"This would be a lot faster if I just dumped your dead weight over my shoulder and ran," the younger hunter grumbled.
"No way I'm letting you do that while I'm conscious," came the terse response.
"You've got two choices, Dean: I carry you or I stay behind to make a distraction. I honestly don't care which you pick. Just pick one."
Dean had to really think about this. His pride would never allow him to be carried when he knew he could stand on his own. But his big-brother instincts were screaming at him for even considering letting Sam put himself in danger.
"Dean!" Sam shouted, hearing the two horror-movie characters coming quickly in their general direction. "Pick one now!"
The elder Winchester only had a few short seconds before he felt the rope being looped over his good shoulder.
"What about my choice?" he said, stopping because he knew what his younger brother was doing.
"If you wait too long, the choice gets made for you," Sam answered, his gun now in his hand. "Get to the car – I'll be there soon!"
"You can't kill these guys, Sam!"
"I know that," came the growled reply. "I'm not trying to kill them. I'm trying to provide a distraction so you can get out! So run!"
Then he turned around, firing strategically at their pursuers, running to one side to draw them away. Knowing he didn't have any extra bullets, he stopped firing when he took off at a dead run. He glanced back occasionally to make sure the two were still following him. He wasn't even sure if they were capable of logical thought. In the movies, they seemed more like feral animals than humans or spirits or whatever it was they were. If they were could reason and think, perhaps he could talk to them and find out what was keeping them here. If not . . . well, he didn't want to think about that right now. First, he had to make sure he and Dean both got out of this forest in one piece.
He was brought to an immediate halt when he saw the glint of a metal blade in front of his face, and dimly wondered how Michael Myers managed to get in front of him when he was running so quickly. Then again, stranger things had happened during previous hunts, so he let that thought go as he stepped backwards. Luckily, he tripped over a root that was sticking out of the ground. He went down in a hard heap, which caused him to barely miss the chainsaw blade behind. And just what was it with Jason and coming up behind people, anyway? At least this Michael guy tried a forward approach every so often. He rolled his eyes and crawled to the nearest tree for protection.
Sam figured he should head to the Impala. By this time, if Dean hadn't made it to the car, he would need help anyway. So the younger Winchester put a few well-placed bullets into each of his pursuers and sprinted off, dodging branches and twigs and everything else in his way. He finally cleared the trees and almost stumbled in gratitude when his eyes rested on the car and his brother, leaning against the door and fidgeting while impatiently waiting. They grinned at each other in relief, and Sam permitted himself to slow down slightly. That was when the look on Dean's face changed from relief to terror, and the younger hunter knew one of the two supernatural beings had caught up with him. He tried to dodge whichever blade was coming for him, and thought he had succeeded until he felt a searing pain shoot through the back of his shoulder. The knife was gone almost as soon as it had come, as Dean shot it seven times. He was shouting, but Sam couldn't spare the mental attention to listen. He focused on running, stumbling now, into the passenger side of the car, his good hand wrapped over the top of his other shoulder to try to ease the pain. He slammed the door, and Dean pealed out in his haste to get away.
"Well, that was close," Sam muttered from where he was trying not to lean back against his new gash. "I think I'm bleeding on your car."
"Are you okay?" Dean asked with concern from where he was trying to divide his attention between his brother and the road.
"Yeah, but I got blood on your car."
"Stop worrying about the car, Sam!" Dean snapped.
Sam looked confused, but left the subject alone. "What about your ankle?"
"It feels fine."
The younger brother snorted. "Fine. Right."
"At least it's not bleeding all over."
"I thought we weren't talking about that anymore."
"I didn't say anything about my car. I was talking about your health."
Sam didn't respond, and Dean was afraid he had passed out from blood loss or something until they got to the motel, and both brothers exited the car on their own. They looked battered and bruised. Thankfully, no one tried to stop them as they stumbled into the room, leaning heavily on each other for support.
"Take off your shirt, Sam," Dean ordered as his leg gave out and he collapsed on the bed.
"Why?" the younger hunter asked, sprawling on his stomach on the second bed.
"So I can sew up your shoulder."
"You don't even know if it needs stitches."
"Even if it doesn't, I need to clean it out and bandage it up. Unfortunately for you, it's not in a spot where you can do that for yourself."
"Then take off your shoe so I can wrap up your ankle. I'm doing your wrist, too. You probably broke them both or something."
Dean sighed. "I didn't. But since I know you won't cooperate with me unless I cooperate with you, I'll do it."
He struggled out of his shoe, wincing at his swollen ankle. He assumed it was just sprained, but looking at the ugly bruising on it now, he wasn't so sure. Without pausing to consider it further, he hobbled to the other bed with the first aid kit in his good hand, where Sam had managed to get his shirt off and was sitting completely still. Blood was running freely down his back, and he made no noise as his brother dabbed the dirt and grime away to get a better look.
"It's gonna need stitches, Sammy," Dean said sympathetically, grabbing the needle out.
"Sam," came the response through obviously clenched teeth.
Dean finished patching his little brother up and then moved silently to his bed, where he dropped like a rock and stayed down. A few minutes later, he felt gentle hands touching his wrist, trying to assess damage without causing further pain.
"It's a sprain," Sam announced softly. "I'll wrap it up to keep it stable. But let's check out that ankle first."
Dean's muscles tensed as those warm hands touched his foot. Sam had a sharp intake of breath, and Dean knew it wasn't good. "Well?" he asked, his voice far raspier than he intended it to be.
"I think it's broken."
"No it's not. Just wrap it up and I'll be fine."
"Dean, I'm serious. I'm pretty sure this is broken. We have to get a doctor to cast it."
"I'm not going to a hospital."
There was a moment of silence, and finally Sam said, "Okay, but it's probably going to be a lot more awkward for me to bring the hospital here."
Dean's eyes popped open. "You wouldn't," he said, watching Sam pull out his cell phone.
"Oh, but I would," the younger Winchester smirked.
"Fine. I'll go to the hospital. But can we go in the morning? We're both exhausted."
"No way. You'll back out in the morning. We're going right now. And I'm driving."
"I thought we weren't going to make a habit of you saving me."
Sam grinned as he pulled a clean shirt on. "We're not. I just want to drive your precious car."
Two hours later, when they re-entered the motel room, Dean was sporting a new white cast, using crutches, and complaining miserably. "How are we supposed to finish this hunt like this?"
"I'll finish it," Sam replied. "You can be the geek boy this time."
"I hate you."
The younger hunter smiled. "I know you do."
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NOTE: Hey, I managed to end a chapter without a cliffhanger! I'm really proud of myself. Anyway, I hope it's not horrible. Review to let me know! And thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapter One!