A/N: The Final Chapter...oooohhhh sounds so ominous, hehe. hope you all enjoyed this...off to brainstorm with Catbeist with this great idea we have...

Disclaimer: Hickox and Kripke own it all see, and ifen ya mess with anything they put their rights to, yer gonna disappear, like Jimmy Hoffa, or that sock I lost while doing laundry...anybody seen my one blue sock anywhere?? Huh??

Woods surrounded them, covering them in darkness. A thick silence enveloped them like a fog over a deep lake. Sam scanned the trees, spinning wildly. Everything looked exactly the same and there was no way of telling which way they had come in. They were officially screwed. Dean sat at his brother's feet, his knees gripped to his chest. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and deliberate. Sam knelt in front of him, touching his slender arms. Dean did not respond to him but merely stayed in that position. As Sam stood, trying to make heads or tails of their current location, Dean let out a long painful groan.

"Sam, my chest hurts." Dean listed to the left, his knees free from their grasp. Dean's face was taught, screwed up in a painful expression. Sam dropped to his brother's side, a hand to the man's shoulder. Dean muttered something inaudible, then screamed in agony. He fell backwards digging his hands into the fresh earth. Mud and grass ripped out in clumps as Dean struggled with the fight inside his body.

"Dean," Sam was trying to keep his composure, trying to stay calm not only for Dean, but for himself.

"There is nothing wrong with you. Remember what you told me? What isn't real can't hurt you? Remember?" Sam's voice slipped a few octaves, cracking as he spoke. This was not being calm, nor comforting. Dean's breathing picked up, the pace harder.

"Sammy?" Dean lifted his head and looked square into his brother's frightened orbs.

"Are you in my body? No. So you can just kiss my ass!" Dean's eyes flashed, a look Sam had seen only once before and now Sam knew that he had to get Dean out of there before he turned into a creature of the night.

Sam grabbed for his brother, assuming he would protest. Yet Dean gave into his help and stood. Even though Dean was four inches shorter and the smaller of the two, he seemed to suddenly weight ten times as much. Sam struggled to keep his grip on his older brother as they trekked through the dense forest looking for some way out. Fifteen minutes later, a solitary light caught Sam's eye. It was coming from a small shack at the end of a dirt path. Sam shifted Dean, trying to keep him standing, then headed for the cabin.

Inside, Sam set his brother on a tiny wooden chair, shutting the door behind him. Dean's face was scarlet and he was sweating profusely. Dean had already undone his shirt and found it almost impossible to breath. To him it was like trying to breath underwater without a tank. Sam leaned against the door watching as his brother fell apart before his very eyes. Shaking off the sudden thoughts that invaded his mind, he rushed to his brother's side.

"Dean please." Sam placed a hand on the arm of the small chair. The wood was marred with some kind of scratches and...teeth marks? Sam yanked his hand back as if it had just touched an open flame then rubbed both of them together. Now was not the time for the past.

"Dean, you have to listen to me. Everything that you are feeling, no matter how painful, is not real. Please Dean. We need to be focused right now so we can get the hell out of here." Sam tried to reason with his brother. Dean breathed deeply, his eyes closed once more. He never answered Sam. This scared him, utterly terrified him.

As Sam stood there watching his brother, a loud bang broke from the outside of the cabin. A twig cracked then the front door slammed open. A young man rushed in, shutting it behind him. He leaned on it, making a barrier between whatever was outside and himself with his hands. He was panting and muttering something about hunters. His shirt was torn and he was bleeding from a serious neck wound. A minute passed, then a gun blast erupted through the night, shaking the cabin.

The door was shot off its hinges, knocking the man backwards. Another wound, this one now in his chest, emerged under his obliterated shirt. Sam stepped backwards, almost falling down, as the man skidded to a stop at his feet. As Sam stared at the dying man, a hunter entered the doorway. He held an Ithaca in his meaty hands. Smoke billowed out the end of it. The hunter popped the barrel, unloaded the empty cartridges, then dropped them on the wooden floor. Reloading, he snapped the barrel shut, then actually pointed the gun at Sam and his brother.

"Are you in cahoots with this mammal?" The hunter's low growl almost matched that of a dog on the hunt. In fact, to Sam, he almost looked like a bloodhound. Before Sam could speak up, Dean's eyes shot open and he began to pant, his tongue lapping at the cool air that had consumed the habitat. Sam watched in horror as his brother stood, picked up the chair, and in once swift movement, ripped it apart. The hunter cocked his shotgun and aimed it.

"NO!" Sam screamed, leaping in front of the barrel. The other man eyed him slowly and looked to have no reservations about killing Sam's brother right then and there. Sam turned back to his brother and socked him hard in the mouth. Dean fell to the floor not knowing what had hit him. A hand instinctively went to his now bleeding lip. He spit on the ground, his eyes now trained on his brother.

"You better start sleeping with a friend from now on." Dean grunted then stood. He now realized what was going on. He was finally himself. Dean caught sight of the hunter, the gun still locked on him as if he had just stepped out on a redneck wedding.

"Look big daddy," Dean raised a hand, licking at his fresh wound. Dean had donned a thick southern drawl, just to screw with the man.

"Mary Anne might be the purtiest girl in Beaver Falls, but 'tain't no excuse to go around blowing holes in folks. Puts dents in their personalities ya know?"

The hunter was by no means amused and pressed the gun into Dean's chest. It did not go through as he had assumed it would and that spooked the hell out of him. Reaching out to touch it, his hand landed on still warm metal. Dean chuckled uneasily. He flashed a look at his brother, who nodded. Dean ducked fast, just as the gun went off. Sam grabbed the shotgun, knocking it up in the air as he shot once again. Ripping it out of the man's hand, Sam swung it around and whacked the hunter in the head. He yelped then hit the floor. Sam hit him again, smashing his nose. He tossed the gun aside, then both of them rushed from the cabin.

They stopped after running for a few minutes. Dean leaned against a tree while Sam dropped to the ground, breathing hard. They kept staring down the path wondering why their own advice had failed them. As they stood there, a crash broke out behind them. Dean pushed away from the tree, yanking Sam off the ground. They stood there holding their breath. Nothing happened for quite a while, when a black figure emerged from behind a tree.

"So, you are still with us." The accent was all to familiar. Dean started forward, wanting to put David in his place, but Sam grabbed his arm, pulling him back. David grinned then perched upon a fallen pine tree. His newfound throne seemed more suited for a king, not the serf before them.

"I guess things need to be explained, need to be made just a tad more clear before you become a permanent part of my collection." David crossed his arms then titled his head. Dean pursed his lips, ready to jump him at any moment. Sam still had a tight grip on his brother's arm, not letting him go for nothing.

"Ah, where to begin? Well, it seems that you happened upon the wrong Wax Museum boys. This here gallery has a hidden agenda, needs something that you two can provide." His smile deepened, making Dean even more eager.

"20 years ago a young boy by the name of Mark Loftmore and five of his friends visited my lovely establishment. Four of his friends died here. You see, I need 18 souls in total to make my wonderful exhibits come to life. It happened then, but Mark, that little shit, got in the way. I guess the fact that I killed his grandfather made him a little vengeful."

Dean snickered, crossing his own arms. He had no remorse for this asshole, and now as the story was being told, he had even less. Sam had let him go, now not caring in the slightest if he took the man's head off. He just wished it would happen now rather than later. Just listening to him blather on was getting annoying.

"That night, Mark and his girlfriend decided to burn my museum down. They almost succeeded. Of course they almost killed me and my men as well. But as you see, we are still here, or at least, they were."

Sam realized he had thrown Hans into the cobra display. Oh shit!!! Did that mean that everything was coming to life and why the hunter did not respond to Dean's logic?? Maybe Sam was over thinking things like always, but he just had to know.

"Wait, didn't you already get your 18? I mean Hans and Junior became part of the museum remember." Dean nodded hard, just remembering this himself. Maybe they had screwed up and helped this idiot out without realizing it. Way to go Dean, once again you act before you think.

David shook his head slipping from his high horse. He placed his hands behind his back then stepped in front of Dean. The look on his face was one they had never seen on anyones, not even his. It was utterly terrifying.

"No, sorry to disappoint. But the boys gave their lives years ago. Just like you are going to do, right now!" He yanked Dean off his feet, lifting him over his head. Sam acted fast. He found a fallen tree branch, picked it up and whacked David as hard as he could in the face. What Sam witnessed almost sent him into cardiac arrest.

David's face, or rather what there was of it, had peeled all the way to the right in a macabre Phantom's mask. It was not skin, yet rather manufactured wax, the kind used in David's own museum. Underneath was nothing but grey bone. His eye was a black marble, not a normal oculus. It flashed from Sam to Dean, then back again.

"Silly child." David's voice had changed. It was deeper and more evil.

"You can't kill," He tossed Dean to the grass.

"What will not die!"

David leapt at Sam, knocking him to the ground. They rolled on the grass, David's hands on his throat. Sam dug into his flesh and peeled off layers of wax. David growled then banged Sam's head on the ground furiously. Sam's eyes swam, the pain registering quickly. Dean jumped up, crashing into David, knocking him off his brother.

"You cowardly son of a bitch!" Dean kicked David in the stomach, then felt a punch to his jaw, throwing him backwards. David began to stand, but Dean was on him. Dean punched him hard, throwing him forward. Sam watched as they both disappeared in a flash of light. Sam shook his head, a slight headache beginning, then followed after them.

Dean and David had landed on the carpeted floor, Dean on bottom and David on top. Dean struggled to hold on to the curator, but his waxy flesh continued to peel and chip. As David made a move to strike at the other man, he kneed David in the stomach, lifting him over his head. David grunted as he struggled to keep control of the situation, but was suddenly on the losing end.

As Sam toppled from the exhibit, he saw David soar over Dean's head and land square into the Marie Antoinette display. A light flashed, followed by a sharp zapping sound. Moments later, as Sam helped his brother up they watched the scene change completely.

Standing next to Marie was a large guillotine and blood was splashed all over the front of it. Behind it was a headless body. Sam lightly tapped his brother and pointed at Marie. Dean looked and gulped. In her slender hands, was David Lincoln's decapitated head.

-----

Sam opened the front door for his brother and breathed in the night air. It had been almost noon when they had ventured into the museum, but by their watches it was nearly eight pm. Dean walked up to the Impala, keys in hand, but did not move to the driver's side. Sam stared at him, wondering if he was okay.

"Sam," He turned to his brother, a worried look on his face. Sam knew that whenever he looked like that, something was definitely wrong. Dean rarely showed emotions, especially to Sam. Dean eyed his fingers, almost trying to avoid the present conversation, then glanced back at his brother.

"I made a mistake tonight that almost cost us our lives, almost cost me your life, again! Damn it if I don't keep doing that. Sam..." Dean turned away, not saying another word. Sam moved slowly forward and placed a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean stirred, but still said nothing.

"Look. Quit beating yourself up about it. We are still here. We made it out in one piece okay." Dean nodded slightly. Then he turned.

"You know what?" Dean's hands took up residence on his hips. Sam merely shrugged. "I saved your life twice today. Twice. You owe me..." Sam stepped back, bemused.

"I owe you? I made sure the mad hunter did not fill you full of lead, and I owe you? That's it. Next time we go to Canada where it is nice and cold so you can freeze your ass off. And you will like it!" Sam yanked the keys from his brother's hand and stepped around to the driver's side. He opened his door, taking a seat. Dean's eyes widened.

"Woah, next time. Bullshit next time. This is the last time we ever go on vacation. I am not even going to the corner store for milk." Dean opened his door, slipping into the bucket seat.

"You're a big jerk you know that?" Sam chuckled. He shut his door then started the car.

"Yeah, well, you're a little bitch." Dean retorted. He slammed his own door and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. A split second later he opened an eye, glaring at Sam.

"And dude if you so much as scratch my car I am going to feed you to those vampires that so wanted your juicy ass." Dean laid back, turning to the right. He was out like a light.

Sam laughed heartily then put the car in drive. 'People Are Strange' burst through the speakers of the stereo. Sam hurriedly changed the station, sighing. He could not wait to get back to normal society where at least the things that came after them had an expiration date.

A/N (part two): Not sure if anyone got the "Lost Boys" references here...there were a few in the movie, so I slipped in a couple myself...The biggest being the place setting...Santa Carla, Cali. Both films were set there...then I used the song 'People Are Strange' which played at the very beginning of 'Lost Boys'...just thought it a nice touch...

If you saw Waxwork, you know David Lincoln died at the very end...he was shot, and landed in the vat of hot wax...well, I thought, what if he was able to get out?? What if he didn't quite die??? I like 'What if's' The world is full of them, might as well use them...

If you have any ideas for movie crossovers for the boys that you would like me to shove them into...please let me know...I will gladly give it a whirl!! (as long as I have at least heard of the film that is, hehe)