Six days earlier

"Hey Sam," Dean said as the younger Winchester entered their motel room bearing food. "Have you ever heard of a little place called Night Vale?"

"No," Sam replied, shrugging off his coat. It had been a cold October, even in New Mexico. Why?"

"Dad mentioned it in his journal, but most of it is pretty confusing. I'm only getting a few bits and pieces of info. It seems like he was in a hurry. What about…" Dean squinted at the page. "Desert Bluffs? I think it was a neighboring town, if this even is a town we're talking about."

"Nope." Sam plunked down in the chair opposite Dean and flipped open the newspaper, scanning the headlines for a case.

"Well there's a picture of some dude here." Dean pulled the black-and-white photograph out of the journal and held it up to the light. "Lab coat, douchey hair…. and it looks old, Sam. It looks really old. But that can't be right. Dad only worked this case about seven years ago, right before he disappeared."

Sam shrugged, eyes trained on his paper. "He probably picked it up on the case."

"No." Dean shook his head, shoving the picture right in Sam's face. "Sam, Dad is in the picture. He's right behind Bill Nye, pouring something out of a beaker. God, he's all decked up in science-y shit."

"Huh." Sam took the picture, frowning. "So what does it say about the case?"

"Well," answered Dean, picking up the old journal, "It doesn't say much, just some scribbled words here and there. Doppelgangers, rivalry, scientists, uh… Radon Canyon? Okay, here's something: he said there was a 'giant glowing cloud that rained armadillos and lizards' and he said something about a school board."

"What?" Sam stood up and crossed the room to where Dean was seated, peering over his shoulder. "What the hell…. okay wait, what's that?"

Dean read aloud, "Citizens act as if it's all normal. Most are creatures, some are human. No one enters or leaves except for Carlos. Like nothing I've encountered before. Instincts are telling me to run."

"Huh," said Sam again. "So?"

Dean looked up at Sam. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Sam, exasperated, "How do we get there?"

Two hours later

"This is frickin' pointless," exclaimed Dean, putting the Impala in park and throwing his hands up in defeat. "We're never gonna find this place. It's like it doesn't even exist."

Sam sighed and stepped out onto the sidewalk, buttoning his suit jacket neatly. Dean climbed out after him. "Listen, Dean," Sam explained calmly, "This is the only case we've seen in weeks, and we have exactly one lead to go on. Now, we know that scientist's name and the fact that he worked in this town. We only have two more labs to visit. After that, we can throw in the towel."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

The receptionist was pretty, but Dean barely threw her a glance. This whole case was perplexing, and he had a feeling it was about to get even more complicated. The woman led them down a dimly lit hallway to a doorless office.

"Ah, hello." A man in his late twenties was seated at the desk, intently focused on a meticulously filled-out spreadsheet. "May I help you?"

"Agents Young and Johnson, FBI." They presented their badges. The man hardly gave them a glance. "We're here to investigate a missing person. Did you ever work with a man named Carlos?"

The man looked surprised. Slowly, he stood up and came around the desk, leaning back on it and studying the boys. He was fairly short, but filled out. He had black hair that was slicked back messily, and his face was shadowed in unshaven hair. He did not look like a man who should be sitting behind a desk in a sweater and lab coat.

"No, he didn't work here," said that man slowly, "but I knew him."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. "Did he look like this?" Sam pulled the photograph out and showed it to the man.

He nodded, swallowing.

"And how did you know him?"

"He, uh," the man stammered slightly, looking at the floor. "He was my boyfriend," he replied quietly, "One day he went out to the job site without me and he… he never came back."

"Job site?" Another glance.

"Yeah," the man looked up, finally meeting their gazes, "Oh, didn't you know? We were hired by a company to test the ground out in the middle of the desert, about thirty miles from town. They wanted to know if there was any possibility of digging a well or two out there. Of course, they had to shut down the whole operation after what happened to Carlos."

"Right," said Sam, "Would you mind telling us where that was?"

Forty minutes later

Dean pulled the Impala up to the abandoned job site in a cloud of dust and sand. He skidded to a halt and allowed the dust to settle before climbing out. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was low on the horizon. They had to hurry before it was dark. He would hate to be stuck out in the middle of the desert at night.

A chilly wind blew across his exposed neck as he climbed out of the car. He shivered, squinting across the hood of the car at Sam, who had a light purple scarf wrapped around his neck. His cheeks were pleasantly rosy, and he laughed at Dean's glare.

"Dude, that's frickin' gay." Dean scowled at him.

Sam laughed. "At least I'm not shivering, dumbass."

"Whatever. What do we got?"

They approached the job site warily. There wasn't much left over, but there was still a marking pole stuck straight into the ground by a deep hole. Several concrete blocks framed it, covered it seven years' worth of graffiti, no doubt from teens who had traversed out into the desert for a playful jaunt. No one would ever find their graffiti in No Man's Land.

The boys scoured the site for over half an hour, but they could find nothing of significance. "I say we call it quits," said Dean.

"What about Night Vale?" asked Sam. "Desert Bluffs? Doppelgangers? Glow Clouds? Creepy douche scientists? Doesn't that all seem worth investigating?"

"Man, I don't know." Dean leaned back again the hood of his car, folding his arms stiffly. "Maybe he was high, or drunk. It all seems a little too crazy and a little too obscure. Don't you think we would have heard something about this place before now?"

"So what are you saying?" Sam leaned back next to Dean, their arms brushing slightly. Dean could feel Sam's body heat coming off of him in waves. "That it doesn't exist? That Dad was making it up?"

"No." Dean shook his head. "I'm saying he was wrong. Misinformed, or confused. He's not perfect, Sam, and I think this may have been a mistake." He walked around the car and opened his door. "Come on, let's head back."

Sam shook his head, but followed Dean around the side of the car. "At least let me drive for a bit. You look exhausted."

Dean agreed sleepily and climbed into the passenger's seat. He closed his eyes as he felt the car start up with a gentle rumble beneath him. He immediately began to drift into oblivion, until Sam woke him up with a shout.

"Holy shit!" Sam jumped out of the car, leaving it to idle. "Dean, you gotta get out of here right now!"

Dean threw open the door and climbed out, staring up at the sky with his mouth hanging open.

About thirty yards above their heads, a helicopter sped through the darkening sky. It was dark brown, painted with blood-red images of menacing birds. A rope ladder dangled out of the helicopter, and on it rode two identical men in black suits and sunglasses. One of them held a machine gun and the other held what looked like a giant dart gun.

"What the hell….?" Dean stared at the helicopter until it was almost out of sight. Then he realized: "Sam! What if that helicopter was from Night Vale?"

Sam stared at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "Get in the car!" he exclaimed suddenly, "We need to follow that chopper!"

Dean didn't have to be told twice. Sam put the car in drive and sped across the sand. The road had stopped at the job site, so they had to make their own path.

They lost the chopper after about ten minutes. "Dammit!" Sam threw the car in park and turned it off completely. "Now what?"

"You keep driving," said a low, raspy voice from the backseat.

The boys whirled around to see a familiar face. "Cas!" Dean exclaimed, "Man, it is so good to see you."

"Save it, Dean," Castiel said gruffly, leaning forward. "I'm here on business."

"What is it?" Sam asked, ever concerned.

"Angels," Cas replied, "Two of them went rogue a few years back, and we finally managed to track them. They have some pretty powerful warding spells up, so I don't have their exact coordinates, but I'm willing to bet they're in the same town you're looking for. I can guide you there."

Dean sighed and turned away from Cas, gazing out across the vast, dark desert. "Start her up, Sammy," he said, "We're going to Night Vale."