Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews for the last chapter! I really appreciated it :D

And, in the spirit of the season, Happy Thanksgiving! This is my very first Thanksgiving so I’m pretty excited. Yum, turkey! Pass the sweet potatoes!

Pictures on the Wall: Chapter Five

Present Day...

The incessant ringing of Dean’s phone stirred him out of wondering why the corridor was empty. Surprised to discover that he’d never dropped the cell-phone, he flipped it open and raised it to his ear.

“Yeah?”

The almost deafening rush of air that hit Dean’s ear informed him he had a very relieved Sam on the other end. “What happened?”

Dean closed the door on the hallway before giving Sam a quick recap. Moving slowly, he returned to his bed as he finished with, “It’s turning into a really weird day.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“Got some answers?”

“I don’t know. The guy’s father seems clean – nothing even remotely unusual in his past. And he was pretty well known in the local news. Seems like he worked for the paper for a while. He was really into conservation too.”

“That explains all the nature shots.”

“Exactly. I went through the archives and there was nothing on him other than him winning an award and a story when he retired. Oh, and an obituary.”

Dean coughed. It failed to alleviate the ache in his chest. “The guy’s dead,” he said, his voice rough. “It could still be him.”

“Yeah maybe. Anyway, look, I’m on my way back. I’ll be there soon.”

“Bring some snow.”

“Huh?”

“It’s hot.” And Dean couldn’t be bothered to move.

“Dean?”

“I’ll talk to you when you get back. Later.” And he closed his phone, lowering himself onto his pillows and closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. He was hot, sore, felt like the inside of his body was full of jagged, bladed objects and no matter how out of it and drowsy he felt, his mind refused to shut off and let him sleep.

The snow began to twist, coiling and jerking around and around as the supernatural force controlling it reached out to grab what had once been the steam-train’s stack. It flew through the air and smashed into one of the old buildings, taking it down with ease. Everything was going to hell and suddenly the guards seemed only too willing to let Sam and Dean take control.

“We need to burn all the bones!” Dean yelled at the pale guards as Sam headed to the other side of the train. “No matter what it is, you burn it.” Dean figured if they couldn’t tell which bones were those of the dead Mayor’s then everything would have to go, and it had to go now. He passed the guard nearest to him the sack of salt he’d been using. “Salt and then burn, got it?”

The guard looked like he was going to argue. Dean didn’t let him.

“Either you do as I say or you’ll probably wind up dead. Pick one.”

The man, Dean’s height but overweight with it, gave a shaky nod. “Got a lighter?” He asked, trying to smile his confusion and fear away. It didn’t work.

Dean handed his over. “Stick with your buddies. Don’t let anyone wander off alone. Two of you work on the bodies, two of you keep an eye out for flying stuff that shouldn’t be flying, got it?”

“Y-yeah.” And he was gone, calling to his colleagues.

Dean climbed up the wreckage, shotgun held in one hand. He saw his brother lighting another pile. “What did you get?” He called.

“Leg.”

Dean saw something shimmer behind Sam. The snow twisted ominously, gathering around itself. Something flickered in the centre and Dean saw the shape of the mayor inside. “Sam! Move, now!”

Sam threw himself to the side and kept moving as Dean fired off a round. The spirit burst into cloud, losing shape and disappearing. As he reloaded, Dean looked at the guards and saw them doing what he had told them to do. Good. Nothing was going for them, yet. Dean had to hope that the only spirit around here was the mayor… although he wasn’t going to believe that until the night was done and the only bones left were those encased in living flesh.

Pulling himself up to the highest vantage point the wreckage offered, Dean cast his eyes around for both bones and spirits. It was easier to direct the guards than it was Sam, the marked skeletons simple to point out compared to random skeletal odds and ends.

“Got… uh… a chunk here,” Sam called up, something small held between his fingers. “Could be skull.”

“Damnit this is gonna take forever,” Dean muttered. He looked down to the guards, impressed with their progress. They had numerous fires blazing, moving on to the next flagged body with speed that was almost eager.

That was when the ghost came back. There was no warning, just the loud noise of metal screaming as it was wrenched from its resting place. Dean yelled out a warning and the guards dropped to the snow as part of a wheel went sailing over their heads. The wildly twisting snow was the only clue Dean had revealing the mayor’s location and he let off another blast. He hit his target and the snow fluttered back to the ground. The guards stayed down, waiting for Dean to tell them it was safe to go on. Only Sam continued moving, albeit hunched down as he continued gathering bone fragments.

The snow was thicker but it was still falling lazily. It stung Dean’s eyes but he stayed vigilant, gaze swinging back and forth between the guards and his brother.

Bone shards gathered in one hand, Sam’s eyes finally fell upon the other arm – hand included. Adding what chunks of the skull he’d found (and the thought that this guy’s head had been so smashed up was pretty nauseating), Sam salted and burnt another set of bones. Was that it? Had they done enough?

The snow stopped.

He looked up at Dean, who looked around. The guards had just finished with the last train crash victim. He held up a hand to keep them still. No one moved.

“Sam, did you get it all?” Dean called down, eyes still searching.

“I can’t be sure. The snow’s kinda covering everything.”

“Damn.” Dean was torn. Should they consider the job done yet?

Sam began climbing his way up to his brother. “How long do we give it?”

“Dunno.” Dean looked down at the guards. “All burnt?”

“Yeah but we’re gonna lose our jobs for this!” One of them yelled back, the others nodding and murmuring in agreement.

“Say you got attacked like your buddies and blame us. Just, you know, describe us differently. Hell, say we were women.” Dean grinned.

“How about we just hand you over to the cops?” The same guard threatened, disbelief at what had just happened manifesting in anger. “Don’t you know how much damage you’ve caused? This place was a historic monument! Now it’s all ruined.”

The guard Dean had given the salt to put his hand on the man’s shoulder and pulled him back. “What the hell happened here?” he asked the brothers, still nervous but apparently more open-minded. “What is all this?”

“Remember when your mom and dad told you there was no such thing as monsters under the bed or hiding in the closet?” Dean said.

His audience nodded somewhat reluctantly.

“They were lying.”

Sam, bags full of research, flu supplies and food in his hands, returned and found his brother curled up on his side, head resting on two pillows and eyes firmly closed.

Sam moved quietly but he didn’t need to. “I’m awake,” Dean said in a thick voice. He still didn’t open his eyes. “So, tell me what you found out.”

“I dunno Dean…”

“I can’t sleep and if I turn the TV on again, I’ll shoot it. I can’t take any more talk shows. Tell me.”

“Okay. Just give me a minute.”

Sam put his research down on his bed. He then dug around the other bag, pulling out a sandwich and a bottle of iced coffee for himself. Then he emerged with Dean’s vapour rub and a few boxes of tissues. He’d also bought an assortment of cold and flu remedies, figuring if they didn’t use them this time they were bound to need them at some point in the future.

Dean grabbed the jar of vapour rub, opened it and held it under his nose. “Smells good,” he said, breathing deeply and smiling faintly. He scooped some onto his fingers, lifted his t-shirt and rubbed it into his chest. “’Bout the only thing I can smell.”

“Yeah, you sound like you forgot how to swallow and stuffed things up your nose.”

“You did that.”

Sam remembered that. Peanuts. He was lucky he hadn’t breathed them in. He grinned at the memory.

“Sam, come on, what did you find out?”

“Not a lot. People have been disappearing since the fifties. From what records I could access, all of the more recent victims visited the same tourist spot at some point in their travels.”

“And the motel owner’s father took pictures of the same place.”

”Yeah, him and probably everyone else who ever went there. I’m failing to see the sinister there.”

“Okay, so, anything unusual about the place itself?”

“Nope. Started as a frontier town, had a brief stint as a military outpost…”

“Wars with the Natives?”

“Not really. Just a few fights here and there. I get the feeling it was a supply outpost. It was a town rather than barracks.”

“Still, could be a connection,” Dean reasoned, clearing his throat and reaching for his water bottle. Discovering it was empty, he tossed it away with a groan. “What else?”

“It was abandoned as the frontier moved.” Sam dug around and pulled out another water bottle for his brother. Dean took it gratefully and opened it as Sam went on. “It was a pretty big town – had a railroad stop and everything – but as people kept moving west, the place just wasn’t needed.”

“People wanted the California sun over the Colorado snow huh?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“There are so many things it could be,” Dean sighed tiredly, holding his hands over his face. The thought of all the research was so overwhelming it made him worry his head would crack open and leak grey matter. But now wasn’t the time to curl up and act like a child. Swallowing another mouthful of water, he said, “We should head to that town, see what’s there. Could be a spirit hanging around…”

“But that doesn’t explain how the guy and his daughter disappeared from here.”

“Maybe they went there and something followed them back.”

Sam was unwrapping his sandwich but stopped when the thought hit him. “I should check for EMF readings. I didn’t think about it earlier. Sorry.”

“Might wanna start in here,” Dean replied, waving off the apology before drinking again. “Weird day dude. Weird day. Freaking hands.”

“Oh yeah. Damn, can’t believe I forgot that too.” Sam began rummaging around one of the duffle bags for the EMF. “Guess I’m just thinking about other things,” and he gave Dean a look.

But Dean wasn’t paying attention. All the water had made him need to pee. He was slowly levering himself up, eyes scrunched closed as his brain began hammering against his skull and everything bunging up various passages slid southward. “Ugh.” He coughed, gargled and swallowed, the pit of his stomach instantly nauseated. Yeah, the bathroom was definitely where he needed to be.

He emerged several long minutes later, both relieved and feeling worse. Sure he’d thrown up but at least his bladder was no longer getting ready to burst. “S’all good,” he told Sam, who didn’t look like he believed his brother at all. Now all Dean had to do was stay still, close his eyes, and not think about anything involving bodily fluids of a virally induced nature...

“Can I get you anything?” Sam asked quietly, knowing better than to jar his brother’s aching head.

“No.” Dean let out a slow breath. “I’ll take more pills in a couple of hours.” He slowly eased onto his side, stopping every time his stomach made threats. “Just go look around with the EMF. Then get ready to take whatever we’ll need for looking around that town tomorrow.”

“Whatever I’ll need. You’re not going.” Sam was still eating the sandwich, albeit as quietly and unobtrusively as he could. He had to eat, even if Dean was sick. “I’ve seen milk with better colour than you.”

“Funny.” Dean couldn’t be bothered to smile.

“And the snow…”

“Don’t use that as an excuse. People up here know how to clear the roads. We’re going. Tomorrow.”

“Dean…”

“Sam, where would you rather leave me – in the car you’ll be driving or in the hotel with pictures that eat people?”

Sam didn’t have a good reply to that. He just let out a grudging, “fine” and ignored his brother’s pale but no less smug grin.

“So… that’s it?”

Dean nodded. “Yup.”

“That simple?”

”Looks like.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Mm.”

They tossed their gear into the trunk. In the distance the noise of sirens was cutting through the snow that had begun to fall again, nothing thick enough to drown out the high-pitched shrieking. Police, ambulance and fire. The whole gang was coming out.

“We need to go,” Sam said as he slid into the passenger seat, coughing into his fist. “We’ll never be able to talk our way out of this one.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

And Dean just sat still in the driver’s seat. Sam looked, looked and looked, but Dean didn’t react. “Dean?” Nothing. Sam gave Dean a shove. “Dude! Drive!”

“Oh, yeah. Right. Driving.” The car roared to life.

“Where are we gonna go?” Sam asked as the car began move.

“First motel we come across. Snow’s getting worse again.”

“We need to get out the mountains.”

“Yeah but we’ll probably have to do it in stages.” Dean peered ahead. “Snow’s getting worse.”

“You already said that.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Sam looked at him. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, fine.”

“Sure?”

“Shut up Sam.”

He was silent for a moment, allowing Dean to concentrate as he guided the car off the dirt track and back onto the main road. Then he asked, “Do you really think we can trust the guards to lie?”

“We did save their lives.”

“Yeah but you’ve also given some of them hospital bills.”

“So? They’re still alive.”

“Right now I bet they wish they weren’t.” And Sam winced in sympathy.

“Whatever dude. Let’s just go find some hot food and a room.”

The new morning had broken by the time Dean stopped. Despite the falling snow, they were out of the higher mountain areas and had found a motel to crash in – Welcome to The Rocky Views Inn! Manager on Duty – Richard Hawkins. Come for the beds, stay for the views. The interior was plain and dull like most the other motels they’d stayed in during their lives, but beds were beds and that was really all that mattered.

And the view was astounding.

Both of them full of coffee, Sam had taken over the shower and Dean was idly poking around the Internet, supposedly looking for their next job. For some bizarre reason, the pictures on the wall kept capturing his attention. Nature shots were hardly awe-inspiring so why the hell were they distracting him so much? Dean was finding it hard to focus, his whole body jittering. When Sam came out the bathroom, clad in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, he found Dean pacing around, fingers drumming against his thighs.

“Uh…”

“I think I need to go for a walk,” Dean announced.

“In the snow? At…” Sam eyed the clock. “Five in the morning?”

“Yeah. Now. I’m feeling…” Dean bounced on his toes. “Y’know, awake.”

Sam was too tired to care. “Fine. Just don’t drive.”

“I said I was gonna walk.” He sounded like a moody thirteen-year-old – he even rolled his eyes like one.

“Whatever.” Sam fell back on his pillows, arms behind his head and his eyes closed. He got under the covers without looking. “Be quiet when you come back in.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Dean grabbed the keys, opened the door and headed out.

Sam was asleep before anxiety could keep him awake.

But now, midnight was calling around and Sam was startled from sleep again by the noise of his brother leaving the bathroom, toilet flushing and Dean coughing.

“Can’t sleep?” Sam asked.

Dean cleared his throat. “Isn’t that my line?”

“Yeah well I gave you the insomnia along with the cold I guess.” Sam hoped the joke hid his worry. It had now been five days since Dean’s little ninety-six hours of not sleeping but here he was again, apparently doing the same.

The bed creaked as Dean sat down again. “Go back to sleep.”

And despite how concerned he was, Sam was still feeling plenty drowsy, ready to drop off in an instant. “You need anything?” He managed to ask around a yawn. If he’d been more awake, he probably would’ve considered drugging his brother again. “Take some of the stuff that’ll make you drowsy.”

“Already did.”

“Oh.”

“It’ll kick in soon.”

“Yeah.”

But when Sam nodded off again, Dean’s eyes were wide open and locked onto the pictures.

The people were moving, their bodies jerking rapidly like they were having fits on their feet. Dean just watched and watched, vision grainy and flickering thanks to the darkness of the night. And the pictures were changing, long shots to close ups on dead faces to blackness to hands reaching out…

Sam had said the EMF meter hadn't found the slightest trace of anything otherworldly. Dean begged to differ.

He tried to watch the ceiling but something always pulled his eyes back to the pictures, images flicking like a maniac switching channels at lightning speed. He sat and stewed, then kicked off the blankets only to freeze. Everything ached and no position would ease him. Even his freaking ears and jaws ached! His head pounded thickly, above and behind his eyes. His chest was heavy and sore, throat raw and itching so bad he wanted to shove his hand in there and scratch like crazy.

But at least his stomach had finally stilled. It was a small mercy but a mercy nonetheless. But that one thing had no chance against the rest of his aches.

Somehow, despite how crap he felt, Dean knew he was going to be watching the pictures all night.

TBC…