"An axe," Sam repeated. "Do we have one?"

"I don't think so. Why? Are you really going to try to chop him up?"

"I don't think we have any other choice at this point." With one hand on the wall, Sam dragged himself to his feet. "What happened to the knife I had?" He took a faltering step forward, not noticing the slight movements of the weakened but not dead Freddy Krueger on the ground near him. As what might have seemed like a last-ditch effort, Freddy's arm wrapped around Sam's good leg and jerked. The hapless Winchester grunted in surprise and collapsed back to the carpet again, having lost the last of his already-waning strength. Dean finished off the clip in his gun on Freddy, waiting until even the twitching had stopped. He had his own knife, but Myers was all the way in the room now. And unfortunately, Sam was between them.

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"Sam, don't get up!" Dean snapped to his brother as he took one step forward, not even taking the time to see if said brother was conscious. His stabbed leg held his weight, but when he put the broken one forward, it crumpled under him and he found himself on his knees. There was only one thing left to do. He threw the knife with deadly accuracy, only mildly shocked when it actually hit his target in the heart. Myers stumbled backward one step, looking at the knife with curiosity more than pain. His free hand jerked it out, and he found himself looking down at his next victim – who was lying unmoving on the floor below him.

"SAM!" Dean now shouted, realising that he now had no weapon. "Now's a good time to be getting up!"

"Make up your mind," Sam muttered from his position on the floor, where he was semi-conscious, eyes closed in utter exhaustion.

"Up, Sam!"

Groaning, the younger Winchester dragged his legs underneath him so he could be on his knees. He had still failed to open his eyes, hoping that keeping them closed would also hold the throbbing jackhammer in his head and body to a minimum. So far, it hadn't worked, but opening his eyes could mean more pain, so he elected not to. So focused was he on obeying Dean's orders that he had completely forgotten about his current situation. Freddy and Michael were not to be found in his mind.

"Today, Sam," Dean ground out, sounding closer than before but still far away.

"I'm trying," he mumbled back.

Dean, meanwhile, was trying to crawl forward to protect his brother, who was obviously disoriented. "Try harder."

It was at that point that Sam decided adding pain to his already gnawing agony was worth giving Dean a glare, and his eyes snapped open, widening as they took in the sight before them. A man with a knife in each hand was far too close for comfort, taking slow steps toward him. And then everything came rushing back.

"Michael Myers," he said in awe, no longer moving.

"Get up, Sammy," Dean ordered.

Shaking his head to clear it and draw himself out of his reverie, Sam involuntarily jerked back, landing on his rear end and sliding himself away. Surprisingly, Myers stopped walking. "What's he doing?" he whispered.

"He's probably sizing you up, idiot," the elder hunter growled from behind. "Why are you still sitting there?"

Sam turned his head to look at his brother, eyes taking in the injuries. "How long was I out?"

"I wasn't aware you were out."

"Not long, then," Sam said, nodding. "Do you happen to know what happened to my knife?"

"Well, I'd give you mine, but he has it now."

"I'm going to save my questions as to why you would give a supernatural killer a weapon for later and just ask you to find me another knife so I can defend us!"

"Defend us? You've already ripped out my stitches twice! I don't want you going anywhere near that guy!"

"KNIFE, Dean!" Sam snapped.

Shutting his mouth against the retort that would always come unbidden to his lips, Dean began frantically looking around the room for a knife. Why couldn't he find anything? A few minutes ago, when he had been awakened by Sam's alarm, there had been guns and knives and holy water everywhere. Now, he couldn't find anything except a bottle . . . .

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" came the reply, as Sam dragged himself to his feet again, ignoring the icy pain shooting through his body. Myers was advancing on him again, and he would have at least attempted to run if not for two things: 1) He had tried that already and it was pretty useless on horror movie villains, and 2) His body was completely unwilling to comply with that request anyway. So he took a few steps to the side and accidently tripped over Freddy Krueger's body.

"Have we tried holy water?"

"Dean, try the holy water or don't, but I'm going to need a weapon!" Sam hissed.

Nodding, the elder Winchester squirted the holy water all over Michael Myers. Interestingly enough, it sizzled when drops fell on Freddy, but the water did nothing to Myers. Sam was on his knees next to Freddy, a very sick idea having crossed his mind during the time when he was falling. But a bad idea was better than no idea at all. Myers was about to bring down one of the knives on his head when Sam grasped Freddy's hand and jerked it up, the claw-like fingers raking over Michael's arm. And, with joy unlike anything he had experienced in a long time, Sam saw Myers recoil in pain.

"What happened?" Dean asked from his position, which was still too far away.

"I don't know if it's the cut, or the fact that they're Freddy's claws, but it definitely hurt him."

"Do it again!"

Sam tried to figure out how to use his new weapon again without having to expend the energy required to drag Freddy all over the room. He supposed he could cut the hand off, but he still didn't have a knife. He'd have to wait for Michael to come at him again.

"Sam, do it again," Dean repeated.

"I will," he murmured back. "This isn't as easy as it looks!"

Dean still hated the thought of his brother being so close to two horrible enemies and crawled in that direction. It made his skin crawl, seeing Sam's hand gripping Freddy's fingers so close to his own throat. If the nightmare villain were to wake up at that moment, nothing could stop him from killing the younger hunter in a heartbeat. Perhaps luck would be with them for once. He snorted in amusement at his own futile plea. In reality, if it weren't for bad luck, the Winchesters wouldn't have any luck at all.

But something seemed to be on their side; Michael Myers charged Sam again and Sam managed to slice him across the chest. Dean's knife dropped from his hand, and he stumbled backward, eyeing his foe.

Sam's free hand snatched up the knife as though it was a priceless jewel. Dean had proven that it was useless against Myers, but the idea of holding the cold steel just made him breathe a sigh of relief. It was the principle of the thing, after all. He tucked it into his belt and tightened his grip on Freddy's arm.

"He's not going to attack me again," Sam muttered. "I'll either have to wait or try to drag Freddy's body around with me."

His older brother shuddered at the mental image that thought brought. "Just wait," he said. "It's safer and we both know you could use the rest."

Sam was ready to agree when Myers made up his mind for him by going for the only other moving thing in the room – Dean. It took a few precious seconds for what was going on to sink into Sam's already sluggish mind, but when he did, he found an extra surge of adrenalin that allowed him to fly to his feet, holding fast to Freddy Krueger's hand as he threw himself at Myers. He vaguely heard Dean yelling in concern, but his mind couldn't process the words. He crashed into Michael's side, taking them both down onto Sam's bed. He jerked Freddy's clawed hands down on Myer's chest twice before something collided with his head and his vision went black.

Dean watched the scene in front of himself with horror. Sam had slammed his head into the headboard on the bed quite by accident in his haste to kill Myers. Poor kid had knocked himself out. He stored that away mentally for a less stressful time when it would be his brotherly prerogative to mock Sam relentlessly. For now, though, it was his brotherly prerogative to save him. Without having any idea how he managed it, he found himself next to the bed, where Michael Myers was getting ready to deliver a final slashing blow to the unconscious Winchester. Dean grabbed Freddy Krueger's body and hauled it in front of his brother with almost all of his remaining strength. The knife meant for Sam sliced Freddy's chest up in an ugly gash. And a sudden gasp that didn't come from Sam let Dean know that the nightmare killer was not actually dead yet. In horror, he dropped Freddy, wrapped an arm around Sam, and pulled backward. The two rolled into th wall behind them, Dean sitting up with his brother laying across his lap. Freddy's eyes shot open and he viciously swiped his claws across Michael Myers' throat. Myers went limp almost immediately, sliding off the bed and onto the floor.

"Oh, is that all we had to do?" Dean muttered softly to himself.

Freddy Krueger stumbled to his feet, still the worse for wear, and took stock of his surroundings. Then he stepped down. A hand wrapped around his ankle and threw him to the ground.

"That's so unoriginal," Dean said. "I mean, he's done that to Sam, what, twice now? And who knows how many times it's been done in the movies. Just pathetic."

Michael Myers climbed slowly to his feet, staggering, and kicked Freddy three times.

"That's a new one," Dean said, nodding his approval. "It won't stop him, but at least it isn't cliche."

"Wass gooin on?" Sam ground out from his place on his brother's lap.

"Nothing, Sleeping Beauty. Go back to sleep and wait for your prince to come kiss you."

Sam was sure there was a big insult behind that remark, but was far too tired to sort it out at the moment. So instead, he asked, "Where am I laying?"

It was at that moment, and not a second earlier, that Dean realised his position, which could have been conceived as rather awkward. Hoping his brother was still too out of it to put things together, he answered, "Uh – the floor."

"It feels sort of soft and lumpy," Sam murmured without moving.

"I put a lumpy pillow under you, okay?"

Sam's eyes narrowed as he was finally able to focus on Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger, who were still fighting. "How long have they been going at it?"

"Not long. I've got my money on Freddy, though. He seems a lot more vengeful than Michael."

"You're sick," Sam responded, putting an elbow under himself to get up. Unfortunately, he soon discovered that he wasn't on a pillow on the floor, when he heard Dean yelp.

"Watch it!" he snapped.

Sam turned his head to look back, realised where he was laying, and started laughing involuntarily.

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NOTE: Look – no cliffhanger! Aren't you guys proud of me? crickets chirp in background Uh, well, I'm proud of me, anyway. Hey, thanks for the great reviews, everyone. They make me feel better since I'm currently trying to recover from six stress fractures and a torn ACL (it's been a really rough week). Keep them coming, and I'll keep typing! (That's not a threat or anything; I mean, I don't have lot to do other than sit around right now, so I'm likely to keep typing, anyway. I'd just appreciate the reviews.) Anyway, I envision this story ending soon. Sorry I won't be adding everyone's suggestions in. They were fun, and maybe in a while I'll write a sequel where I can put our heroes into every horrible horror movie ever made! We'll see!