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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After a short but surprisingly restful night's sleep, Sam Winchester rolled to his back and started to sit up just as a sharp pain running through his shoulder reminded him of the previous night's activities. He stifled a groan and looked over at his brother, who was still sprawled unceremoniously all over the next bed. Sam permitted himself a smile as he thought of all of the ways he could get his brother back for the snide comments during his eight weeks with a cast on his hand. It may have been an unfortunate development, but a Winchester would never let a golden opportunity like this go to waste.

He got out of bed and headed for the shower, determined to at least feel refreshed before he started his research. He truly intended for Dean to do most of the paperwork while he did the legwork, but knew it would be like pulling teeth to get real research out of his brother and figured he should get a head start on things if they wanted to make it out of this town before Dean's cast came off in two months.

One shower and a coffee from a nearby diner later, Sam was seated at the table, laptop open and booting up. Dean still hadn't awakened for the day yet, but that was normal. They didn't have anything pressing to do, they were both injured, and he wasn't worried about his brother. That made him sleep more soundly. Sam didn't sleep much since his girlfriend's death two years ago, so when he managed a few hours of dreamless sleep, he was grateful.

Dean groaned as he woke up twenty minutes later, rubbing his eyes and trying to get up before the heavy weight on his leg brought back memories of falling down a well and getting chased by evil movie characters. Wait a minute . . . evil movie characters?

"Sam?" he called after noticing the bed next to him was empty.

"Yeah," his brother answered from the table, not looking up from his computer screen.

"Please tell me I have a bad hangover from getting drunk last night."

Sam's head now poked around the laptop. "You didn't drink anything last night."

"So we're really hunting some movie characters?" he asked, praying this was a sick joke that his mind was playing on him.

"I'm afraid so," came the response as the younger hunter stood. "Are you hungry? I can pick you up some breakfast if you want."

"Yeah, thanks."

"It would help if you tried doing some research while I'm out. Surely you can find some way for me to kill them."

"For you to kill them?"

Sam sighed. "Dean, we had this conversation already. You can't really do a whole lot while you're in that cast, so I'm going to finish the hunt and you're doing the research."

"No, you had this conversation already. I didn't agree with it then and I don't agree with it now. I can help finish this."

"Just look on the internet for ways to kill them while I'm getting something to eat, okay?" the younger brother asked, trying to smooth over the situation so Dean would do more than stew about it while he was gone.

Dean finally nodded. "Fine. But if you think I'm going to sit this one out, you're out of your mind."

Somewhat mollified, the bothers parted ways and Dean made himself comfortable in front of Sam's computer. After two minutes of staring at the screen, he was already bored. How had he managed to do research before Sam came back to be with him? He had no idea, but he was about to go insane. He didn't even know where to begin. And finally, an idea popped into his head. He started typing furiously. Twenty frustrating minutes later, the door opened.

"I can't find anything," Dean said, throwing his hands up as Sam entered with bags of fast food.

"Where all have you checked?"

"I checked the IMDB so far, and I couldn't find any way to kill them."

There was a moment of shocked silence. "You checked the IMDB?" Sam repeated incredulously. "Who does research for a hunt by checking the IMDB??"

"What, like you've never checked the IMDB before?"

"Yeah, when I want to know how old an actor is or who played a certain part!"

"This situation is a little unusual, though, don't you think?"

Sam stayed silent.

"Never mind," Dean growled. "The point is that we still don't have any idea how to kill them."

"What did they try in the movies?"

"Well, with Michael Myers they tried shooting him –"

"Which we also tried," Sam interjected.

"– and they tried pushing him down a mine shaft and lighting him on fire –"

"So those are out."

"– Electrocution and stabbing, but neither of those worked."

"Obviously."

"They even tried shoving him out of a second story window, running him over with a car, and blowing him up."

"How do you kill this guy?!"

The two sat in thought for a few minutes, pondering ways to kill supernatural things that hadn't been tried already.

"And Jason?"

"Uh . . . I think he actually died when someone chopped his head up with a machete."

"He died?"

"And then came back to life when lightning hit a rod some guy was using to stab him."

"Uh oh . . ."

"So they tried drowning him in both water and toxic waste. Then some people blew him up. But he kept getting resurrected because of the whole electricity thing. Oh, and there was something about his heart being the key to him. No one ever destroyed it."

"At least we have a general idea of what to do with him. All we have to do is find his heart and salt and burn it."

"That should be easy. I mean, naturally we know where to find it."

"He supposedly drowned as a child, right? Where did he drown?"

"In a lake at a summer camp."

"Where is it?"

"It's a fictitious place, Sam. It doesn't exist."

Sam took a deep breath. "Clearly something is bringing him here. Were there any lakes around?"

"Are you going to go diving for it or something?" At Sam's expression, he groaned. "No way! What's the matter with you?"

"I'm taking suggestions right now, Dean. So if you think of something, let me know. Until then, I've decided that fighting them both at the same time is a little too much. I'm going to have to take them out one at a time, and I'll start with Michael Myers."

"Why him? At least you have a theory on Jason."

"Yeah, but I can't go diving for a heart when there's another serial killer on my tail. I'll take care of Myers and then kill Jason."

"And what do you plan on doing, exactly?"

"Well," Sam began, "Why don't I just gather some stuff together and go try things until one works?"

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean said. However, the look on his brother's face was anything but joking. "Ah, crap. You're not joking."

"You got anything better?" When he was met with silence, Sam nodded. "That's what I thought. I'll just grab a bit of everything and go give it a shot."

"What, now?"

"Yeah, now. I don't want to try it again in the dark just yet. Didn't they ever come out in the daytime in movies?"

"Sometimes, but –"

"Then I'm going now."

"I'm going with you."

Sam threw his arms up in frustration. "Not again, Dean. Do I need to explain this to you again?"

"You can try, but I'm still going with you."

Rolling his eyes, Sam said, "Eat breakfast. I'm going for a walk."

Noticing the way Sam had a bag full of bullets, holy water, salt, gasoline, matches, guns, and stakes, Dean was not inclined to accept that answer. Besides, he wasn't a complete idiot.

"You're going for a walk? You don't think I'm going to believe that, do you?"

At the door, Sam paused and turned back. "I don't care if you do or not. I have the car keys and I know you can't move as fast as I can. So give me a call if you come up with anything useful." And then he left.

"Damn it, Sam!" Dean shouted at the now-closed door. Unwilling to sit and let his little brother finish this hunt on his own when they had no idea how to stop the things they were hunting. His heart dropped further as he heard the rumble of the Impala's engine fade away. He ran a hand over his face, sighed, and hobbled toward the door. His job was to protect Sam, after all, and he couldn't very well do that by sitting at a motel table surfing the internet. He needed to be out there helping.

The elder Winchester slowly made his way into the parking lot, looking for an available car. Unfortunately, the motel was almost vacant and there was only one vehicle in the entire area . . . a sea-green minivan. "This is so not right," he said aloud as he prepared to steal the car. "Sam, you owe me for this."

A few minutes later, he was driving down the road toward the forest that they'd been in the previous night. He soon came to his beloved car, parked off the street in a very protected area. He had to give his brother credit for that, at least – Sam was apparently taking good care of his baby. But where was Sam?

Parking the minivan, Dean headed into the trees, wincing with each step he took. The pain medication he'd had was wearing off and he knew he shouldn't even be walking with this cast. But crutches were out of the question here. So he continued on, listening for sounds of his brother. Unfortunately, the forest was completely silent. There were no birds, insects, or wind. Confused, he stopped moving, turning in a circle, trusting his highly-trained instincts to lead him to the fight.

"Sam?" he called carefully, knowing it would alert anyone in the area to his position but not really caring. His big-brother sense was flaring like crazy. Something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. Then he heard a soft thump from somewhere off to his left. He hobbled as quickly and quietly as possible in that direction, praying that it wasn't just a falling twig or something. He could hear more muted sounds as he got closer and was convinced he was nearly there. And then he found his brother . . . or, rather, his brother found him. Sam was flying through the air, narrowly missing the tree next to Dean's head when he crashed fully into the elder hunter and both of them hit the ground with a painful thud.

Sam immediately rolled away, blood running down the side of his face. His arm was wrapped protectively around his stomach, and though Dean couldn't pinpoint the problem right away, he noticed some blood and knew it wasn't good.

"Thanks for breaking my fall," Sam muttered as he got back up. "That would have been really painful otherwise."

"No problem," Dean answered – or tried to, anyway. His breath had been knocked out of him.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, eyes continually straying to the spot he had just forcibly vacated. At the ensuing nod from Dean, Sam hauled him to his feet. "Then we need to get back to the motel. Round one went to Myers and I'm not particularly in the mood for round two yet."

They staggered together toward the car, both breathing heavily. Sam was still looking back, making sure they weren't being followed. Dean was surprised that, when they made it to the Impala, his brother tossed him the keys. "You can drive," he offered.

"Thanks for giving me permission to drive my own car," he answered. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine," Sam said back. "A bit sore, is all. I'm good. Let's get back to the motel."

"So what all did you try?" Dean asked as they drove away.

"Let's see . . . holy water, a stake to the heart, and silver. None of it even fazed him."

"Did you run across Jason while you were out there?"

"Actually, yeah. He showed up some time during the silver knife. Luckily, it seemed to make Myers made enough that he wanted to kill me all by himself and they got into a bit of a skirmish before I got tossed out of the way. Great timing, by the way."

"You're not going out there by yourself again."

"No arguments this time." Sam groaned softly and leaned back against the seat. "I need to sleep," he mumbled, eyes drooping closed as adrenalin wore off.

"Do you have a concussion?" Dean asked, worried about the way Sam was nodding off now.

"No."

"You sure? Cause you're bleeding all over the place."

That seemed to rouse the younger hunter a bit, and he reached a shaky hand up to his head, seeming to notice the blood for the first time. "Oh. In that case, I'm not sure. But I think I'll pass out now. You can check me for a concussion later."

"Sam, stay awake!" Dean snapped, to no avail. Sam's had already gone completely limp in the passenger's seat. By the time they reached the motel, Dean was in full mother-hen mode. He stumbled over to the other side of the car, ripping open the door and using a spare towel to wipe the blood away from his brother's face. There was a small gash on his hairline, but it didn't look like it would be much of a concussion. Then he reached down to slide Sam's arm away from his stomach, lifting the shirt out of the way, as well. What he saw caused him to inhale in surprise. There was a small piece of tree branch embedded in the skin, blood pooling around it.

"Sammy?" he called, one hand cradling his brother's head. "Sam!"

Eyelids fluttered and finally came open, much to Dean's relief. "I know who I am, what day it is, and how I got here, so don't even ask," Sam mumbled.

"What?"

"I don't have a concussion."

"I know."

"Can we go inside now?"

"Sure, Sammy. Come on."

"Sam," the younger Winchester ground out as he slid out of the car and headed for the room. By the time they made it inside, both of them were exhausted.

"Lay down," Dean ordered, shoving Sam down onto the nearest bed. "I have to get that thing out of you and sew you up again." Sam complied with nothing more than a soft grunt of pain.

"Where did you get the van?" Sam asked after a few minutes of Dean preparing to extract the branch.

"I stole it."

"I got that. From where?"

"Here." Dean got a firm grip on the wood with pliers and steeled himself for jerking it out when Sam's eyes popped open and he sat straight up, looking alarmed. "What?"

"I remember reading something about Myers stealing cars and sitting around waiting for people outside of their houses."

"So?"

"We left the van there, Dean. He could easily get it."

The older hunter took a few steps to the window, glancing out. "He's not out there."

"I just have a really bad feeling."

"Well, let's deal with your bad feeling right after we get this thing out of you."

"Right," Sam said, nodding and laying back down. "Wait – what thing?"

"You've been impaled by a tree, Sam. I'm surprised you didn't notice before."

"That explains the pain down there," came the response. "Just get it out."

"Hold still this time so I can."

Dean set the pliers down on the branch again, squeezing hard so they wouldn't come out. And then he ripped his hands back as hard and fast as he could. Sam groaned miserably but managed to not move. Dean put pressure on the bloody skin with one hand while pulling out a needle with the other. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam hissed between clenched teeth. "Finish it."

"I am. Hold on." He dropped the cloth he was holding and started to sew the skin back together. "Maybe we should get you to a hospital."

Sam didn't answer, and Dean wasn't sure if that was because he was trying to concentrate on holding still or that he thought the suggestion was so stupid it didn't even merit a response. But finally, he finished and started taping up the wound. Blood still oozed between the stitches. He probably should have tried to get the bleeding to stop before he sewed it up. Too late now, though.

"Sammy? You still with me?"

"No," the younger hunter growled. "Is anyone out there yet?"

Dean rolled his eyes and peered out the window, a pit growing in his stomach when he saw the familiar green minivan. "Um . . . yes."

"Is it him?"

"I can't see who's in the driver's seat. But I'm guessing it is because that's definitely the van I stole."

He continued watching, stealing occasional glances at his brother, whom he assumed had fallen asleep. He actually jumped when the driver door opened on the van. He backed away from the window in terror when he realised it was definitely Michael Myers coming toward the room. So now they were trapped, Sam was asleep, Dean still couldn't walk well, and all they had managed to do so far was eliminate a few things that didn't work to kill him.

"Sam?" he called, now looking at the door as though it would attack him. "Sam? I need help here."

There was no response. And the knob on the door started turning.

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Note: I know there wasn't a lot of action in this one, but I promise to rectify that in the next chapter. And both Sam and Dean will be involved. Thanks to everyone who's reading through this drivel, and especially those who stop to tell me what they think!