Everything fell out of Sam's hands with a sickening crack as he realised Freddy must have been using the shower to put his fire out. The hunter dashed to the bathroom, grabbing a gun on his way by and ripping the door open without thinking about what exactly he was going to do. He vaguely heard Dean calling his name from outside, accompanied by the growing sound of sirens, but he couldn't allow himself to leave until he'd finished Freddy off.
He stepped into the bathroom and flipped the light on.
As light filled the room, Sam heard a satisfying whimper. Normally, that kind of sound would make him want to help someone, but knowing who it came from gave him gratification instead. He wasn't sure why exactly this horrible nightmare murderer was huddled on the floor of the shower, but he didn't care that much, either.
For whatever reason, his mind was far slower than usual. It had taken way too long to figure out where Freddy Krueger was, just as it had taken way too long for him to realise that the sirens were coming closer. He had to get out,and quickly. He shot Freddy a few times for good measure and headed out of the room. The police would have a field day with this, and he couldn't allow that to happen. Pulling some salt out of his bag, he pretty much covered the entire room. Then he doused everything in gasoline. But before he could light the room and run, he found himself still unconvinced that Freddy was even dead.
Sam grabbed the shotgun from where he had left it earlier and took out the shell inside. He carefully popped one end off and poured the powder into a sock from on of the duffel bags. Then he soaked a piece of gauze from the first aid kit in gasoline and put it down on the bathroom floor. Before lighting it, the hunter gathered up all of his and his brother's possessions, stacking them by the door. With one final glance around, he headed for the bathroom, where Freddy was still cowering. In seconds, the gauze was lit and Sam was barrelling for the door. His arms snatched everything up, pausing only to light the saturated carpet behind him on his way out.
Bags slung over each shoulder, computer and weapons in hand, Sam was heading toward the Impala at a dead run. Luckily, Dean had had the insight to get in the car and start it. But he was still mildly appalled when he saw flames coming from the room he'd just abandoned.
"Sammy?" he asked softly as his brother got in the car.
"Drive, please," the younger Winchester hissed before Dean could finish asking his question.
Trusting Sam's word and knowing that they needed to leave, Dean slammed his not-broken foot down on the gas pedal and the car lurched forward just as the motel room behind them exploded in bright yellow flames. He nearly stopped in surprise but remembered that the police were already on their way and kept going. Neither brother said anything until they had been driving for about twenty minutes.
"So . . ." Dean began conversationally, as though he were about to talk about the weather, "what was that?"
"You would be proud, Sammy. I managed to figure that out all by myself. Why did the room explode?"
"I couldn't let Freddy and Michael leave."
"Freddy was still in there? How did you trap him?"
"That was the funny thing, Dean – he was sitting in the bathroom like he was afraid. I have no idea why."
The elder hunter slapped his forehead. "Of course! They used a mirror in one of the movies."
"Yeah, to kill Freddy. Apparently there was some nursery rhyme or something . . ." He trailed off, realising how dumb he sounded. "Anyway, maybe it was true and he couldn't stand to see himself in a mirror."
Sam shrugged. "Well, I don't care what it was that made him stay there. I'm just glad he did."
"So you could blow him up?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time."
A few seconds of silence went by before Dean spoke again. "It was a good idea, Sam. I just hate not being involved when we blow things up. It's not fair."
Sam permitted a grin. "I'm sorry you don't get to chop them up in little pieces and salt and burn each one. It probably would have been fun."
Dean's eyes widened. "Sam, did you salt--"
"Yes, I did," the younger hunter interjected. "I salted everything in there. Nothing supernatural should ever make it out of that alive."
With an audible sigh, Dean leaned his head back against the seat, eyes still on the empty road. "I really could use some sleep now."
"Me too," Sam agreed. "But we need to get your cast replaced before we do much else. You'll cause yourself more damage."
"And we have to get your stitches replaced . . . AGAIN."
"You need your other leg looked at."
"So do you."
"You probably have a concussion."
"So do you."
Sam raised an eyebrow as he looked at his brother. "You could have broken ribs."
A triumphant smile crossed Dean's face. "Don't try to beat me, Sam – it won't work. I'll always win."
The younger Winchester ran his tongue over his teeth in thought, and finally blurted, "At least I'm not bleeding all over your car."
Dean swerved in surprise, cussing and trying to get back on the road as Sam laughed.
Twelve hours later found the Winchester boys in another motel room, stitched, casted, and significantly cleaned up. They were sore and exhausted, wanting nothing more than to collapse into the beds and sleep for a week. But they soon discovered that, in spite of their fatigue, neither could sleep.
In frustration, Dean grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, ignoring Sam's grumbling from the next bed. He flipped through channels, stopping on a preview for something.
"We should go see a good movie, Sam," he said.
"No, thanks," his brother muttered without moving.
Then something familiar caught his eye. This preview was for a horror movie. "Sam?" he said, eyes glued to the screen now.
Sam recognised his brother's urgent tone and immediately rolled over to look at the TV. "What?"
Just then, both Winchesters saw the mask and the blood and the horrid eyes. "What is that?" Dean gasped out.
There was no answer until the announcer proclaimed the title of the movie: "Halloween."
Without moving anything more than one finger, Dean turned the power to the TV off and let the room be shrouded in darkness as he and Sam continued to stare at the technology in growing repulsion.
"Are they really making another one?" Dean finally spit out.
"Then is he even dead?" Sam queried in a small voice.
Silence was their answer, and even though they generally weren't superstitious or bothered by horror films, the Winchesters knew they wouldn't be sleeping well for a long time.
NOTE: Yep, folks, that's the end! I figured that since I had stolen cheesy 80's horror movie characters, I should have a cheesy 80's horror movie ending. And here we are! I really appreciate everyone's great reviews and/or suggestions throughout this.
By the way, here's an extra disclaimer: don't try the whole shotgun shells, socks, and gasoline thing at home. I really just made that up and while I imagine something resembling an explosion would come out of it, I truthfully don't know. Don't do it! It's probably dangerous and I don't want anyone suing me for giving them ideas.
You guys are awesome! Sequel coming soon!