They were lounging at a café, half-drunk coffees long since forgotten, yet every crumb cleared from the plate Dean's pie had been resting on. The Wi-Fi in the place was excellent, which was primarily why they'd chosen it; they were between jobs, waiting, and looking for a case.

Both Winchesters were hoping for something relatively simple. Just another, perfectly ordinary job; at least, ordinary for themselves. It was difficult, searching through news articles and blog posts that contained all manner of hoaxes, looking for stories that were strange, fascinating, and just believable enough that weren't likely to be complete drivel.

'Some guy says the flickering lights in his house are the ghost of his dead creepy grandma?' asked Dean somewhat disinterestedly.

Sam chuckled. 'Almost definitely a hoax.'

'Damn it.'

A few minutes later...

'Vanishing kids in a small town in Illinois?'

'Dean, we checked that one over last week. It was that crazy old teacher with Alzheimer's who thought all his students were vanishing.'

Dean mumbled something and went back to scrolling through web pages.

Interestingly, the one that Sam finally decided to bring to Dean's attention wasn't one of these stories; it was a news article condemning a man, apparently for scientific fraud, and the papers of said scientist. Sam flipped the laptop around, waved his hand in front of Dean's face to get his attention, and then waited as Dean skimmed the article.

'So some local science freak lost a few of his marbles,' he said, indicating the picture of the crazed scientist next to the article, 'So?'

'That's what I thought,' said Sam, clicking over a tab to show Dean the paper, 'Until I read this.'

'"The Quiet Desert Town Where the Impossible is Always True,"' Dean read out, before looking back at Sam, 'You sure he didn't just… I don't know, was offered some "scientifically intriguing" mushrooms and decided to give them a shot before skipping town?'

'Not likely,' said Sam, as Dean continued to read, 'He says he and his team measured seismic activity that no one in the entire town could feel. That there's a house that doesn't exist, but everyone sees. That, and for some reason, it's a public misdemeanour not to eat at a local pizza shop once a week.'

Dean's eyes widened in surprise as he read something about clocks not working.

'He even said something about angels,' said Sam, and Dean snapped the laptop closed.

'Right,' said Dean, 'worth checking out. Let's head out.'

They packed up their laptops, left a tip and headed out to the Impala.

The ride to the supposed most haunted town, by all rights, should have taken them a couple of days. However, in typical Winchester fashion, they had left in the early hours of the morning and were nearing the town by the time the sun had started setting. Sam had leant back his seat as far as it would go and was quietly snoring while Dean was driving, muttering the lyrics to the songs that decidedly weren't playing; he'd reluctantly switched the stereo off to let Sam sleep.

When they were still a short distance out from their destination, the radio on the Impala crackled into life. Sam mumbled tiredly and blinked a couple of times.

'Dude,' said Sam, rolling over and leaning his head against the window, 'this isn't even a channel.'

'Yeah, and I didn't even turn it on,' said Dean, jabbing at buttons in an attempt to convince the stereo system to return to its previous state of silence.

Sam reluctantly set himself upright and took over the job of trying to fix the stereo while Dean drove, his eyes occasionally flicking back to the centre console. You know. Just to check that Sam was doing everything right. After all the poor car had been through, he wouldn't want to have to fix his baby yet again for something as dumb as a radio malfunction.

'There's actually nothing wrong as far as I can see,' said Sam, adjusting the radio frequency carefully, 'I'm not sure... I don't even think it's on, Dean.'

The static suddenly disappeared and was replaced by a gentle, male voice.

'Trumpets playing soft jazz from out of the dark, desert distance. They come tomorrow. It is too late for us.'

'Dude, shut it OFF,' said Dean, his eyes now fixed firmly on the road while Sam ditched his careful attempts and started frantically attacking the sound system, hitting buttons and adjusting even the air vents in an attempt to shut off the voice.

'Welcome,'

'Sammy...'

'To Night Vale.'

Surreal, eerie music poured in through the speakers. Sam and Dean sat upright quickly, staring out of the windscreen at a sign proclaiming the same welcome message as the radio. In the distance, they could see a radio tower and the beginning of a sprawling set of buildings making up the town. On the edge of town they could see a red, glowing sign; as they approached, they realised that it was an Arby's. They also realised that, above the Arby's, a set of mysterious, unfathomable lights were dancing around.

Aside from the voice prattling on about a faceless old woman, there was silence in the Impala. Sam stared at Dean with an expression torn between horror and morbid curiosity.

'Right, well, maybe this scientist wasn't completely nuts,' said Dean, 'and I don't know about you, but I could really go for a sandwich.'

Surprisingly, the ominous lights overhead didn't put a damper on their dinner at Arby's. None of the other people in the place so much as mentioned the lights, though a fair few of them were talking about the radio.

The radio that was still playing the same program and that, apparently, everyone listened to.

Also, this Arby's didn't sell sandwiches. Which is why Sam was happily digging into a salad while Dean glared at him across his drink.

'What?' asked Sam after a few minutes of Dean glaring.

'If you had something to do with this...'

'Dean, how was I supposed to know this town had a ban on anything made of wheat?'

Sam was right, of course. So the moment he'd finished eating his completely non-manly salad, Dean stood up and headed for the door.

'Motel?' Sam asked, following.

'Pizza first.'

'Why...'

'You reckon a guy running a law endorsed pizza joint is gonna make his base out of lettuce? Come on, Sam, I need real food!'

Sam rolled his eyes as they slid into either side of the Impala, and decided not to complain.

The pizza place was close by. Dean parked opposite it with a wide grin that turned into a confused look as he noticed a banana skin lying on the side of the road opposite "Big Rico's." Normally litter wouldn't make a dent in Dean's vision. But there was something off about it. Which may have had something to do with the huge red flag sticking out of it.

'Dude,' said Sam, pointing at it, 'see that?'

'Yup,' said Dean, wondering when bits of banana peel became more worthy of focus than bustling pizza places.

'See how no one's going anywhere near it?'

So that's what it was, thought Dean. There were plenty of people around, most of them going in or out of Big Rico's, but none going near a piece if banana peel with a flag in it. Well, no pain no gain, he thought, and he got out of the car.

'This, then pizza,' said Dean. He started walking over to the flag-marked banana skin.

'Stop!' yelled a voice from across the street, but Dean didn't look up. No way was anyone around here talking to him, he figured.

He was three feet away from the peel when it started pouring out smoke. He didn't have time to react; suddenly, he was crashed into and pushed backwards, landing uncomfortably on the concrete. He looked up just in time to see the guy who crashed into him leap up and pull him further away, right as the peel burst into a six feet wide cylinder of flame.

Dean scrambled to his feet. His rescuer grabbed his arm while Dean stared at the flames, from which a menacing, hooded figure was emerging as the flames slowly flickered away.

'What the hell is...'

'Don't look at it, don't think about it, get inside,' said the man. Dean looked up to see Sam running after them. He turned, following his rescuer through the door of the building next to Rico's. The man waited til Sam was through too before shutting, bolting and (for some reason) spraying the door with lemon scented cleaning spray.

'Oh my god,' said the man, pacing next to the door, 'oh my god oh my god oh my...'

'You want to tell us what the hell that was?!' asked Dean.

The man paused his pacing and turned to look at Sam and Dean. He was dark skinned, was wearing a lab coat, and had hair that even Sam was envious of.

'He means thanks for saving his life,' said Sam, 'I'm Sam, this is Dean. Honestly, thank you.'

'Carlos,' said the man, stepping forward to shake their hands, 'And that was… ok, that was a hooded figure and we have to stop talking about it immediately or that lemon spray isn't going to help at all.'

Dean and Sam both opened their mouths to talk and Carlos held his finger to his lips.

'Please, don't, it'd be a really, really terrible idea. More importantly, do you realise how dangerous litter marked with a red flag is?'

Dean and Sam both looked at him like he was nuts.

'Uh…' said Sam, 'No?'

'Are we missing something?' added Dean.

Carlos stared at them, jaw dropped, shaking his head.

'You're new here,' he asked, 'aren't you?' Before either Winchester had time to answer, he kept talking, 'Alright, a few things. Don't go near anything with a red flag in it. There are no hooded figures, don't even think there are.'

Sam moved to interrupt, but Carlos stared him down in a way that only a scientist being serious can.

'If you see any helicopters, make sure they aren't painted with birds of prey diving. Don't even go near the dog park. Um… Be very, very careful if you go to the library. And even if angels are empirically there, and it's obvious that everyone can see them, they don't exist because apparently…'

This time Sam did interrupt Carlos, because it became evident that he'd moved from serious scientist to scientist-whose-scientific-process-has-been-interf ered-with-by-the-authorities.

'When you say angels, do you mean…' Sam started.

'I mean the multi-winged, multi-eyed, eight-foot tall creatures that hang around old woman Josie's house,' said Carlos, 'or I would, if anyone would admit they existed.'

Dean had raised an eyebrow at the description.

'Seriously?' he asked, 'that doesn't sound like the angels we know.'

'What are the angels you know like, then?'

'Mostly,' said Dean, 'dicks.'

Carlos looked halfway between confused and concerned.

'Is that… literally, or…'

'Oh god no,' said Sam, 'figuratively. But they really are assholes. I mean…'

'I get it,' said Carlos, 'But… well, where are you two from, if you say that you've met angels?'

They didn't have a good answer to that one.

'We're just here to investigate,' said Dean, 'some scientist from here said something about earthquakes? Which is nuts, by the way, cause I can't feel a thing.'

'That'd be one of my lot,' said Carlos sadly, 'they've all left, now, the scientists. Well, except for me. Sometimes one or two'll come past to see if they can uncover any great secrets, but they're never here for long.'

'So what made you stick around?' asked Sam.

'Oh, you know,' said Carlos, 'Science. Opportunity. Getting used to the mandatory pizza days. That sort of thing.'

He was blushing and stumbling over his words by the time he stopped talking, but they didn't care to ask. He had, after all, just saved Dean from a wall of fire.

A wall of fire and nothing else, thought Sam decisively. He wasn't sure why he believed Carlos so readily, but he didn't exactly want to find out what would happen if he was telling the truth about thinking about hooded figures.

'We were just going to be here a few days,' said Sam, 'find a motel, take a look around. We wanted to see if we could figure out what was going on.'

'Oh, you don't want to go to a motel,' said Carlos, looking worried.

'What, is there something wrong with those too?' asked Dean?

'No, they're just awful,' said Carlos, 'terrible, really, I stayed at one when I first got here and let me tell you…'

'So, you'd recommend we stay… where?'

Carlos looked at the pair of them, and sighed.

'I'd recommend you leave as fast as you can, actually,' said Carlos, 'but I'm assuming you seem pretty intent on staying, so… you could always use one of the flats upstairs. This is a live in laboratory, but seeing as there's no one here but me…'

'Are you sure?' asked Sam.

'I don't see why not,' said Carlos, 'Pick any of the rooms, they're unlocked. We don't really have much of a problem with crime around here, strangely enough. There's not much of a kitchen, if you're eating in, but the pizza place next door's the only place in town that does anything with wheat if you're looking for…'

'That's that then,' said Dean, moving towards the door. He paused, and pointed at it. 'This safe to go through?'

They all pointedly refused to think about why Dean was asking that question.

'Definitely, by now,' said Carlos, 'I'll see you around the laboratory, no doubt.'

'You could always join us, if you want,' said Sam as Dean strolled out the door, 'We wouldn't mind.'

'Oh, no,' said Carlos, 'I mean, thank you, but that's alright. I had my mandatory pizza dinner yesterday. And I've already eaten.'

'If you're sure,' said Sam. He followed Dean out the door. As he left, he could have sworn that he could hear the same radio station playing quietly as they'd heard in the Impala and the Arby's.