I will try to update this relatively regularly but please be aware I’m a college student with too many deadlines and not enough time to sleep ;)

Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn’t belong to me, and it never will, therefore I make no money from this story.

No spoilers at all :D

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A week ago it was the ghosts of an abandoned mining town. Now Dean’s been awake for four days and thinks the motel room’s pictures are moving.

Pictures on the Wall

Dean’s been awake for four days and he’s starting to drive Sam insane.

“The pictures are moving.”

Sam couldn’t catch the sigh in time. “No, they aren’t Dean.” At least he sounded calm. That was pretty impressive, seeing as Dean had been saying the same thing over and over like a frigging toddler.

“They are, Sam. The pictures are moving. All of them. It’s like they’re having parties.”

Sam rubbed a hand over his face, the other reaching for the slightly dodgy contents of his pocket. He opened the bottle and shook out four tablets before using a cup to crush them into dust. He has to do this. He has to – for his sanity if not for Dean’s health…

“There’s no party Dean.”

...Because Dean’s been awake for four days, dreams and reality have blurred into one and Sam’s brother has stopped making sense.

“There is! Look at them!” Dean, who was sitting on a bright red motel bed, gestured wildly at the walls, where a collection of crappy scenery shots were pinned up in frames rejected from the 1970s. “Sam, I’m telling you there are people walking around… Look! There’s a little kid there! And old people in that one! Damnit Sam, look! They’re trying to tell me something.“

“Something like ‘Hey Dean, you’re insane? Shut up and go to sleep’. Is that what they’re saying?”

Well, that was hardly a productive thing to say but Sam’s patience was reaching critical levels. Nevertheless, he looked up from the glass of water he was drugging. Nope, nothing was in the picture other than trees, mountains and creeks. Not one had even a single person posing. It was all about nature. He turned back to Dean, preparing to speak in what was hopefully a patient, understanding voice. “Dean, listen to me. The pictures aren’t moving. You’re hallucinating because you’re running a fever.”

“It’s just hot in here. Turn the air conditioning up.” Dean peered closer. “Damnit woman, speak slower! I suck at lip-reading…”

“Dean it’s the middle of January and we’re in Colorado. You’ve got the flu or something and you need to get some sleep.”

Sam had had the cold first and in its early stages it had kept him up all night with a sore throat and blocked sinuses. He’d lost his voice, almost coughed up his lungs a few times and generally been miserable. Whoever said being sick made you sleepy obviously didn’t suffer the same colds Sam got. In fact he didn’t sleep properly until Dean had dosed him up with some kind of nighttime cold remedy that packed one hell of a punch. Sam, after his sinuses had drained considerably, had slept around fourteen hours straight, the best sleep he’d had in so long he was considering it to be the best sleep of his life. He’d woken up practically voiceless but feeling better nonetheless. Dean didn't seem like he'd suffer anything worse than random outbursts of sneezing... Sam was almost entirely recovered when they’d moved onto the next job, dealt with the ghosts and left for another motel…

…Where Dean had apparently decided to go crazy.

“No, Sam, no, I’m not sick…”

“You are.”

“Sam the pictures are moving!”

“No they aren’t! They’re the crappiest nature shots I’ve seen in my life!” Yeah, Sam’s nerves were pretty damn frazzled by now.

Dean shot him a surprisingly lucid glare. “Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot.”

Sam held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Relax. Look, just drink some water, chill out and I’ll look at the pictures.”

Dean eyed the water beside the sink and Sam hoped his heavy swallow hadn’t been noticed. Would Dean notice it was laced with some pretty heavy-duty tranquillisers Sam had found lurking in their first aid kit and pocketed for later use?

Sam had hoped he’d never have to use them, because the aftermath wouldn’t be fun to deal with, but Dean needed to sleep. Sam needed him to sleep. As he passed the glass to Dean, Sam glanced at the bottle again. Its prescription had one of his dad’s aliases printed across it. If there was a story behind why John had needed such medication for a real reason, or why Dean was the one carrying it around in the car, Sam was pretty sure he’d never hear it. But he was glad they were there because Sam needed Dean to quieten down some.

Because the freaking pictures were not moving.

“Yeah, okay," Dean said as he took the water. "But I want coffee next time. I gotta keep a sharp eye on those pictures. The people in ‘em are sly bastards. They won’t stay still long enough.”

“Right. I’ll remember that.”

Dean downed the drink in one breath. “That tasted like crap,” he commented once it was all gone.

“That’s motel water for you.”

“Yeah, motel water in a motel where the motel pictures are haunted.”

Sam relaxed a little, walking over to the laptop and turning it on for the inevitable research he was about to do on flu remedies.

“Thought you said you were gonna look at the pictures?”

“Yeah I am Dean.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing the tranquillisers could’ve had an instant effect like they did in TV shows. The stuffy headache his cold had brought was coming back. Why did his brother have to be so stubborn all the damn time? “Just getting ready for research ‘cause, y’know, we need to know how and why the pictures are moving.” Hopefully that didn’t come off sounding sarcastic.

Dean was staring at him, suspicion written all over his flushed features. “You’re really gonna research?”

Sam turned on his best yeah, yeah, I’m hopeless I know smile. “It’s what geeks do best.”

Unfortunately that didn’t pacify his brother. “Okay, I’ll get the pictures off the wall so you can look at them and…” Dean’s jaw popped as he yawned massively. “I’ll just… uh…” He frowned and Sam watched the confusion slip into Dean’s expression. “Uh…” Yeah, those tranquillisers were probably scattering Dean’s thoughts to the wind.

About damn time too. Sam was the only insomniac in this family. Dean wasn’t allowed to be better at not sleeping. Sam had to have something, even if it was a really crappy something.

“Don’t worry Dean, leave it to me. Just lie down.”

Uh oh, not good, Dean was trying to stand up. Sam moved to intercept. “The goddamn pictures are moving and there are people in them and I’m gonna find out why before…”

Yeah, there he went. Dean crashed to the ground. Sam winced. Maybe he shouldn’t have crushed up so many of those sleeping pills in Dean’s water…

“Sam?”

Sam hefted Dean up and got him back on the bed. “Just go to sleep.”

“But…”

“Don’t say it again.”

“Sam! The pictures…”

Yeah, then again, maybe drugging his brother was the best idea Sam had ever had in his entire life. “You’re whining Dean.”

“’m not.” Dean frowned but his eyes were weighted with an unexpected sadness. Sam didn’t know why his brother would look so unhappy. Was he worried about the people he thought he was seeing? It didn’t really matter now. Dean’s eyes were refusing to stay open but he stubbornly forced them open. “The pictures are m-movin…” But thankfully the pills kicked in and Dean dozed off.

Sam managed to throw the blankets over Dean, who was resting on his side. He shook his head and felt some of the tension leave his body. One problem dealt with. His brother was asleep. Sam couldn’t help but smile. Already he could feel the frustration melting away, although the worry refused to leave with it. Before he headed into the bathroom to wet a towel to help bring Dean’s fever down, Sam went over to the pictures and pulled them off the wall, laying all four face down on the ground.

Once the damp towel was draped around Dean’s neck and shoulders, Sam turned his attention to the frames again. Curiosity was a bitch. He edged closer and reached out. He flipped them over one by one and stared at them in turn.

Nothing.

Sam made sure they were all face down again before he headed to the laptop. If colds were contagious, perhaps paranoia was too.

---

One Week Ago…

The Impala stood out like an inkblot on pearly white paper, silent on a rotting track covered in snow. Up ahead was a town without a name, lost to time just like the mining that had once supported this dead community. The best name they had for it was Middle-of-Nowhere, Colorado, USA.

The buildings, those that were still standing, were dark and silent. Dusk had pulled in rapidly, thanks to the massive snow clouds that were now sprinkling far too much snow in Dean’s humble opinion. Still, at least the job would be easy. The bodies, if the newspaper reports were true, were mostly located under the town hall. The others were spread around the old train tracks.

“The night that the last townspeople try to leave, the mayor does all he can to make them stay. ‘Cept he’s kinda crazy and his idea of staying meant having lots of bodies to stare at.” Dean pulled the keys out of the ignition and pockets them safely. “So he kills them, rips up the town hall’s floors and sticks the bodies down there.”

“And the mayor?” Sam asks, because he was dozing when Dean was researching.

“Met a nasty death in the form of a steam train that went off the rails in 1900 and tore through half the town. Lots more deaths.”

“Lots more spirits?”

“Oh yeah. Some of the bodies were just left behind. No identification, no one to care about them.”

“Harsh.”

“Yeah.”

“So why is there a problem now?”

“Those damn historians who’ve gone all romantic over an abandoned town. They uncover the bodies…”

“Saving us a job…”

“And they wake up the ghosts…”

“So the crazy mayor and Co. start getting revenge.”

“Exactly.” Dean looked over at his brother, who had just buried his nose in a tissue. “You can sit this one out if you’re still feeling rough Sam.”

“No, I’m fine now.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah…”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “I know you’re lying.”

“No I’m…”

“I did hear that little coughing fit of yours this morning.” That was the thing about motel rooms – incredibly thin walls.

Sam blushed. “That? It was…”

“Here.”

And an orange-flavoured cough syrup landed in Sam’s lap.

Dean grinned. “Thoughtful, aren’t I?”

“Thanks Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t spill any of that in here.”

“You got orange. I’m gonna savour the medicinal taste.”

Laughing with his brother, Dean got out the car, heading round to the trunk so the necessary supplies could be gathered. He huddled up in his hoodie and extra layers as best he could, wishing yet again that this little adventure could’ve occurred in the summer… or in a nice warm state like California or, alternatively, Florida – he wasn’t picky about coasts.

Sneezing suddenly, Dean was caught unprepared for the sudden flurry. Unable to find himself a tissue, he had to wipe his nose on his sleeve.

“That’s gross,” Sam commented. Dean looked up, startled. He hadn’t even heard Sam approach. Sam’s expression radiated concern. “You didn’t catch my cold did you?”

“Nah. Just the weather getting to me. I think I’m allergic to snow.”

Sam said nothing, just waited for Dean to pick up the bag and close the trunk. Sam took a flashlight and lit up their path, the falling snow creating all kinds of dancing shadows their nerves didn’t need to deal with. It was hard enough to pick up ghosts at night…

…which was generally the only time the damn things showed themselves.

Bastards.

“Let’s get this show on the road.” And Dean trudged off through the snow, Sam following behind. “Shoot anything that moves. If it’s an animal, we can have ourselves a cookout.”

“In the snow?”

“Yeah. I’m sure no-one’ll miss a few buildings. Have ourselves a real bonfire.”

Sam shook his head. “This place is a historical monument to our country’s…”

“It’s a ghost town with a good story, sure. But it’s a cold night, important parts of my body are freezing and all I want is to get this done, get some dinner and find me a nice…”

Sam held his hands to his ears. “Oh, stop talking.”

Dean’s laughter echoed all around.

TBC...

Thank you for reading. Hope to see you all soon :D