Santa Barbara, Friday 11:30pm

            Serena walked along the darkened path, swaying back and forth from the alcohol in her system.  The lights seemingly danced around with her drunken state playing the silent music. 

            It was sudden, the pain.  The feeling of being stuffed like a chicken, and thrown around in the dirt.  She screamed, but no sound came out.  It was too late.  She was now a full blown demon.  The new, dark soul covered the light of Serena's eyes with blackness.  She was ready to kill.

            Four miles away, near the center of town, Melissa stood outside her boyfriend's apartment, tapping her foot in anger.  He'd done it again; left her in the lurch instead of taking her out on their 6-month anniversary.  Sighing, she walked off, swearing up and down that it was over.

            Around the corner she went, anger seething through her sweet exterior.  As she walked, she was too emotional to notice the shrubs moving.  Before she knew what was going on, it was too late.  An invisible force knocked her down and tore at her clothes and skin within seconds.  Her screams pierced the air; full of fright and pain.  And then there was silence.

 

Saturday, 8:30am, Santa Barbara

            Lassie surveyed the damage as far away from the actual body as possible.  The condition of the woman was, well, there wasn't a word for it.  You could hardly tell it was a woman anymore.  Blood was everywhere, sprayed in every possible direction.  Lassie was sure that when Guster came onto the scene (as he was bound to do considering Juliet had called Shawn) things were going to get even messier.

            Juliet took care looking and walking around where the body was found.  She had called Shawn almost twenty minutes ago, and was wondering what was taking her boyfriend so long; then again, he probably stopped for food. 

            "O'Hara, where is that poor excuse for a boyfriend of yours?" Lassie growled.

            "Carlton, what did I tell you before?" Juliet crossed her arms as she stared down her partner.

            He mumbled an apology and started barking orders at Buzz when Shawn and Gus showed up.

            "Gus, it's obvious!  The book is so lifelike that it has to be fake!" Shawn said in exhaustion.

            "I heard that they showed up to a convention a while back!  The book is real!  Ghosts are real!  And vampires, werewolves..." Gus started, but trailed off when he saw the blood splatter.

            "Here we go," Shawn whispered as Gus turned on his heels and ran.  Iron Stomach had failed to stay more than five seconds.

            Juliet watched with sadness and amusement as Gus jumped back into the Blueberry and sat there, looking deliberately at a piece of paper; trying not to look at the crime scene.

            "Jules!  Sorry, he's...oh my...what happened here?" Shawn asked, sounding serious.

            "Some kind of animal attack, or so says the witness.  Lassiter isn't so sure," Juliet said with a glance over at her partner.

            Shawn's hyper-observant gift kicked in at that moment.  Scratch marks all over the ground.  The victim herself had large claw marks down her entire body.  Shawn turned away for a moment; the view of the crime scene almost too much to bear.  He turned back, seeing more claw marks along the cement; deep in the cement. 

            ‘What kind of an animal could make deep marks?' He thought.

 

Sunday, 10:00am Reno, Nevada

            Sam Winchester flipped the pages of the newspaper he was reading, looking for any possible weirdness in the world.  He looked up at his brother Dean, who was eating a burger.

            "Dude," Sam said, shaking his head.

            Dean looked up, his mouth full of burger, "What?" he asked.

            "It's ten A.M. and you're eating a burger," Sam said.

            "Yeah, because I didn't get to eat last night, since we were ganking about fifty demons and two Leviathans," Dean retorted, dropping his burger on the napkin. 

            Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's eating habits.  Looking back down at the newspaper, he spotted a story about a strange murder in Santa Barbara.  Right next to it was a missing person.

            "Dean, here's something," Sam said, pointing to the story of the killing.

            Dean grabbed the paper to check the story out when Bobby's flask shifted.  Both brothers looked right at it.

            "Bobby?" Dean asked of their dead friend, who'd been haunting them the last few months.

            It was suddenly colder in the motel room, and Bobby stood by the table, his familiar cap perched on his head like always.  He looked at the paper, too, over Dean's shoulder.

            "By the looks of the story, it might be a werewolf," he said to the brothers. 

            Dean read over the story a couple of times, noticing the lack of the words ‘missing the heart' within the story, "I'm not sure about that.  It doesn't say anything about a missing heart."

            "I know that, Idjit!" Bobby said, shaking his head.

            "We should check it out.  It's about an eight-hour drive, so it'll give us enough time to research the area," Sam said.

            Dean looked at Sam, "Research the area?  Since when do we do that?"

            Sam had gotten up and started packing his stuff.  He turned to his brother and his deceased father figure, "Because of the psychic detective agency that's extremely popular in the area.  Psych."

            Dean looked up at Bobby, then back to Sam, "Psych?  As in gotcha?"

            "According to the website, as in psych-ic," Sam answered.

            Dean stood up and began packing his things.  His brooding eyes shifted between Sam and Bobby.  He continued packing silently, signaling his brother that he was ready to hit the road.

 

Santa Barbara, Sunday 8:00am

            Lassiter sighed, scratching his right forearm.  Oddly enough, it had started itching at the crime scene.  Looking around, Lassie saw that, for the moment, he was alone.  Carefully, he folded up his right sleeve, revealing a giant red scar shaped like a backwards ‘F'.  The Mark.  His burden and curse.

            Hearing Shawn and Gus yakking in the background, he quickly covered up The Mark and started about his daily business.  No one knew the truth about him.  That Head Detective Carlton Lassiter was, in fact, Cain.  Of course, no one would've ever believed it anyway. 

            Shawn was looking through the case file of the murder two days before, partially listening to Gus' rant about yet another reference to the Supernatural books.  Apparently, Gus now believed that a werewolf was responsible for the girl's murder.

            "I was reading the books last night, trying to see if I could find any clues," Gus said.

            Shawn stopped and stared at his best friend in disbelief, "Seriously, Dude.  Enough with the Supernatural stuff.  Sam and Dean Wesson don't exist."

            "Winchester," Gus corrected. 

            "What?" Shawn asked.

            "He said Winchester," Lassie mumbled.

            Gus looked over at the detective with shock, "You read the Supernatural books?" he asked loudly.

            The vast majority of people in the police department turned and stared.  Lassiter stood there, glaring at Gus. 

            "No, I just overheard Guster.  You need to start listening to him, you know," Lassiter said grumpily. 

            Shawn blinked, "I listen to him all the time.  I mean, what he says in his sleep would give you nightmares."

            Gus turned to Shawn, "What are you talking about?"

            "Um, nothing," Shawn said, looking back at the case file.

            "Shawn," Gus warned.

            "Spencer!  Guster!  Conference room!  You too, Detective," Karen said as she came out of her office.

            "Be right there, Chief.  I just want to put this file back on Juliet's desk," Shawn said, waving the file for her to see.

            "Hurry up.  This is important about that murder last night and the missing person," Karen said.  She disappeared into the conference room behind the rest.

            Shawn pulled out his phone and turned it on.  He scrolled down his contact list and stopped for a moment on a certain name.  He then shook his head, put his phone back in his pocket and went into the conference room.

            Dean and Sam pulled into the Sunrise Motel parking lot, after driving the eight and a half hours from Reno.  They climbed out of the '67 Impala and looked around, stretching out all the kinks from their trip.

            "Well, Sammy, we're here.  Let's get the stuff inside and head out to the police department," Dean said, reaching into the trunk protected by spells and symbols. 

            He pulled out the green duffel bag filled with different things from their "line of work", which included a sawed off shot gun, bullets full of rock salt, hex bags and other assorted goodies.  Somewhere in there was a change of clothes. 

            Sam grabbed out the two "Agent" suits that were folded carefully under the false trunk.  The fake badges were kept in an old cigar box; which he grabbed as well. 

            "Are we going FBI, Game Wardens or what?" Sam asked the minute they had locked the door to their room. 

            "FBI.  We can use the missing person element to gain access into the murders," Dean said.

            Sam nodded in agreement, taking out the FBI badges and placing the rest away.  He went into the bathroom to shave and make himself look like an agent.  Dean did the same using a small mirror.

            Twenty minutes later, the boys got back into the Impala and drove the five miles to the SBPD, dressed to the nines and making themselves look professional. 

            "Okay, according to the reports, the victim's heart was completely gone, but the strange thing is..." Sam scrolled down, "There was no remaining flesh, muscle or blood from the head down."

            Dean glanced over at his brother, "That doesn't sound like a werewolf.  That sounds a bit more like,"

            "A Leviathan," Sam finished with a sigh. 

            "No.  Nothing would've been left behind.  A vampire?" Dean asked.

            Sam searched, "According to the archives, it could be a number of things.  We'll have to dig deep into the Men of Letters files."

            "You think he's going to be here?" Dean suddenly asked. 

            Sam looked over at his brother in confusion, "Who?"

            "You know, him.  The guy we met a while back in Des Moines?  The weird guy who seemed a bit squirrely until we tested him?" Dean prodded.

            Sam leaned back and thought.  For a few minutes, he ran people through his head, until he finally realized who Dean was talking about, "Oh, him.  Why would he suddenly pop in your head?"

            "Didn't he say he was from this area?  Or somewhere nearby?" Dean asked as they got out of the Impala. 

            Sam shut his door before answering, "I think so, but I'm not sure."

            "Well, what would be the chances of running into him here, anyway?  He hates cops," Dean stated as they began their ascent up the stairs to the SBPD.

            "Have we got names?" Sam asked.

            "Just follow my lead, Little Brother," Dean said with his famous smile.

They walked inside with confidence, readying to pull out the fake badges and get started on the case.

            At that same moment, Shawn and Gus were walking out of the conference room, where there had been a meeting about the case.  Gus was still talking about the Supernatural books, making Shawn shake his head.  Before he could once again destroy his buddy's dream, he caught of glimpse of two suits.

            If he hadn't been trained to hide his tells, he would've instantly given away the surprise he felt. 

            ‘It can't be!' Shawn thought as the two suits came closer. 

            Dean stopped when he saw a familiar face, "Sam, it's him," he whispered to his brother.

            Sam looked in the same direction and saw a pair of hazel eyes staring back.  Shawn's face said it all, don't blow my cover.

            Dean and Sam gave a quiet nod, and proceeded up to a tall, lanky cop standing nearby, looking at a case file.  Both pulled out their badges before speaking.

            "Excuse me, we'd like to speak to someone in charge," Dean said authoritatively. 

            Karen moved in front of him, "I'm Chief Karen Vick.  How can I help you gentlemen?"

            "I'm Agent Lucas, this is Agent Spielberg.  We're here to investigate the murder and the missing person case," Sam said, flashing the badge. 

            Lassiter immediately soured, "FBI, huh?  Let me see those badges."

            "If you want conformation, just call this number," Sam replied, handing Lassiter a business card.

            Lassiter looked down at it, then the badges.  Nodding, he picked up the phone and began dialing the number. 

            "Hello?" Came a woman's voice.

            "This is Detective Carlton Lassiter of the Santa Barbara Police Department.  I'm calling about two FBI agents, Lucas and Spielberg."

            "Let me get this straight; you're calling me, interrupting me during a key meeting on terrorist activity just to ask me if they're the real deal?" 

            "Who is this?"

            "Agent Benatar, FBI.  Now that we have the formalities out of the way, why don't you let my agents do their jobs and get off their case!"

            "I'm sorry?" Lassiter replied hotly.

            "You should be, now goodbye," she said, then slammed the phone down.

            Helen looked at the phone and shook her head, "Be careful, boys."

             Shawn stood nearby, listening but pretending he was interested in a piece of paper on another officer's desk. 

            ‘I can't believe they're here.  I didn't even have to call Dean. Hope I can get them alone soon,' Shawn thought as he looked up at Lassie, who was hanging up the phone and handing the men their badges back.

            "You both check out, but why would the FBI want to investigate a run of the mill murder?" Lassiter asked.

            "And you are?" Dean asked.

            "Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, and I'm lead on the murder case.  As for the missing person, she was found this morning, alive and well across town.  She's resting comfortably at home."

            "Can we get an address?" Sam asked with a smile.

            Shawn took this moment to step in, "Agents, might I introduce myself?"

            "Spencer, leave the agents alone.  I'm sorry, he's not important," Lassiter sneered.

            Shawn mocked being hurt, "Lassie-face, ouch!"

            "Carlton," Juliet warned.

            Dean looked over at Juliet and smiled.  Shawn went defensive and put his arm around his girlfriend, which gave Dean the hint.  He stepped back and extended his hand.

            "Hi.  I'm..."

            "I got your name.  I'm Shawn Spencer, psychic detective for the SBPD.  This here is Detective Juliet O'Hara and that guy right over there with his nose in a book is Mekalekahi Mekahainiho."

            Gus looked up at the Pee Wee reference with a glare at his best friend, "My name is Burton Guster, but my friends call me Gus."

            Dean shook his head, but extended his hand in Gus' direction.  The other man shook it and nodded.

            Shawn looked over and saw that the book Gus was reading was one of the Supernatural books.  From what he remembered, Sam and Dean hated the fact those existed.  With a small sigh, he turned to Dean.

            "I'm sensing you both are hungry and tired after such a long trip!  Let's get some grub, head back to our Psych headquarters and go over the case," Shawn said, putting his fingers to his temple for emphasis.

            Lassiter bristled, "Spencer, you won't be going over the case because you aren't officially on it."

            Henry walked up at that moment, "Actually, Lassiter, he is.  Psych is hired because we don't know what we're dealing with.  Glad to have you on the case, agents."

            "Thank you, Dad," Shawn said sincerely. 

            Dean and Sam eyed each other with bemused expressions and began to follow the psychic detective outside.  Gus followed behind them, still fuming from the nickname.  Lassiter watched the four of them walk away, then turned to Henry.

            "Remember my list?  You're at the top of it, now," he said in anger, then walked away.

            Shawn waited until the four of them were in the parking lot before saying anything.  At the moment, he didn't want Gus to hear anything, considering it would prove the books were true and Gus would never let Shawn live it down.

            "Hey, Gus, I forgot.  There's something sticky in the backseat of the Blueberry.  I think it was that peach cobbler I forgot in there a week ago," Shawn said.

            Gus' eyes lit up, "You forgot what?!!!  Shawn, this is a company car!  Now I have to clean the entire car and get it detailed."

            Gus' voice trailed off as he began searching the car, opening the doors with some force in anger.

            When he was sure Gus was out of earshot, Shawn turned to the Winchesters, "Sorry about all the fakery, guys.  What are you doing here?"

            Dean spoke up first, "The murder.  Sam and I have been researching it."

            "Is it a werewolf?" Shawn whispered.

            "We're not sure yet.  At first we thought it was, but the body being stripped didn't add up," Sam answered.

            Shawn almost turned a shade of green as he thought about the body he'd seen the day before.  The poor girl was completely stripped, minus her head and shoulders. 

            "Is there a way you can get us in to look at the body?" Dean asked.

            Shawn sucked in a breath, "Maybe, but we'd have to sneak in after hours.  Woody is on vacation and the replacement coroner is a stick in the mud."

            "Hey, that reminds me.  I didn't say anything inside, but that detective; the tall, lanky, angry dude?  He looks awfully familiar," Dean said.

            Sam nodded in agreement, "Yeah, he did."

            "Lassie?  You mean you've seen him before on your trips?" Shawn asked, still partially eyeing Gus.

            "I think we'd remember an angry, lanky detective," Sam said.

            "Yeah, there wouldn't be a chance you'd forget a face like that," Shawn said with a smirk.

            Dean laughed, "No, I guess not."

            Gus slammed the back passenger door, which made Shawn turn around.  He saw Gus holding a takeout container that looked like it was dripping blood. 

            Gus stormed over silently, opening the box and shoving it in Shawn's face.  The sticky mess was Shawn's strawberry covered Belgium waffle from the morning before.  The takeout container had leaked through the sides and a small hole in the bottom. 

            Shawn backed away, realizing he got some of the old whipped cream and sticky strawberry sauce on his face.  He took a second to clean it off, then shrugged his shoulders.

            "Sorry, Man!  I completely forgot about my second breakfast yesterday.  Is it bad?"

            "It's all over the back seat, Shawn," Gus said shortly.

            Dean and Sam held back the laughter the best they could.  The best friends began bickering and chasing each other around the car; Gus using the old waffle as ammo, picking it up and throwing it at Shawn. 

            The brothers watched with amusement for a moment, but then realized they'd better stop Shawn and Gus; as they were getting closer to the Impala.  Dean's eyes flickered with fear for his Baby. 

            "Okay, you two, I think that's enough," Dean said, stepping in between the two friends.  He instantly regretted it as the strawberry/whipped cream mess smacked him in the face. 

            Gus dropped his hand, knowing he'd been the one who threw the mess.  Fear flooded his face when he realized he'd just hit an FBI agent in the face with day old cream.

            "A...Agent Spielberg, I am so, so sorry," Gus stuttered.  His hand was still dripping with red syrup.

            Dean held up his hand to silence Gus.  He turned and grabbed a cloth out of the Impala and wiped down his face the best he could.  He could hear Sam stifling laughter. 

            Shawn decided to play with Gus' emotions, "Gus!  What'd you do?  You just assaulted an agent of the Federal Government!  You're going to prison, Dude!"

            Gus' face screwed up; his eyes moistened, "I'm too young and handsome to go to prison!"

            Dean still had his back turned toward Gus, Shawn and Sam.  In the backseat, he saw Bobby's ghost, laughing away at the mess on Dean's face. 

            ‘Sure, the only one I can't bust in the face,' Dean thought with a grimace. 

            He continued to wipe off whatever residue he could, then dropped the towel in the trash nearby.  Turning, he mockingly glared at Gus. 

            "You realize what this means?" Dean asked angrily.  With his gruff voice, it was quite easy to drudge up the anger sound.

            Gus gulped, his face screwed up in fear and sadness, "I'm sorry!"

            "Not as sorry as you're going to be," Dean said, starting toward Gus. 

            Gus screamed his girlish scream and started running fast.  Dean stopped after a few seconds and watched with a bemused expression.  Sam and Shawn couldn't help but laugh and shake their heads. 

            "Gus!  Come back!  He's kidding!" Shawn yelled.

            Gus stopped and turned; breathing heavily and fast.  The fear was replaced with anger toward Shawn.  He stormed back to the trio.

            "What do you mean he's kidding?" Gus asked.

            Dean stuck out his hand, "Gus, I'm sorry.  I am kidding.  And we haven't been properly introduced."

            Gus blinked, "What do you mean, Agent Spielberg?"

            Shawn chuckled, "Dude, that's not his real name."

            Dean and Sam looked at each other then looked at Shawn, who nodded. 

            "Are you sure he can handle it?" Sam asked, eyeing Gus cautiously.

            "Let's get to the Psych office.  We'll tell him everything there," Shawn said, his eyes darting to the police station. 

            Sam caught the hint, "Right.  Let's go.  Lead the way, Gus."

            Gus tilted his head and squinted his eyes.  "Oookaaaayyy."

            With a questioning glance, Gus got into the Blueberry.  Shawn started to follow, but was met with the blue car peeling away before he could get his hand on the door. 

            "I guess I'm riding with you two," Shawn said sheepishly.

            Dean nodded, but pointed a warning finger at Shawn, "Backseat."

            Shawn sighed, "But I was going to call shotgun!"

            "I have permanent shotgun, Shawn," Sam said with a smirk.

            Shawn reluctantly got into the backseat of the Impala, like he had when he'd first met the Winchesters, and discovered the truth about what lies in the darkness; the truth about what lurks in the shadows at night.

            The Impala kept its pace behind the Blueberry, once the brothers and Shawn had caught up to the fuming pharmaceutical rep.  Shawn shook his head, knowing perfectly well he would try to figure out how to pay for the detailing of the car.

            Arriving at the Psych office, Shawn jumped out of the car to catch up to Gus.  He knew he had to apologize to his buddy.

            "Gus!  Wait!  Look, I'm sorry about the backseat," he said when he finally caught up to his friend inside the office.

            Gus turned to look at him, "Dude, that's not the real reason I'm mad.  I just assaulted a Federal Agent.  I'm more worried about that."

            Shawn smiled, "I don't think you'll have a problem."

            Sam and Dean walked in at those words.  They shut the door behind them and proceeded into the main office. 

            "Shawn's right.  You don't have a thing to worry about.  We aren't really Feds," Dean said.

            Gus' eyes widened, then darkened a moment, "How did you manage to fool Lassiter?"

            "We've got some really good people backing us up.  Look," Sam started, but noticed the books on a shelf behind one of the desks.  He walked over to investigate and saw that they were what he thought; Supernatural the Series.

            "Uh, Dean?  Gus, here, is a fan of the Supernatural books," Sam smirked.

            Dean picked up one that was sitting on the desk, noting it was the last one Chuck had published.  The one where Dean had gone to Hell.  He looked over at Gus and held it up, "You like these books?"

            "I love them.  Shawn teases me about reading them.  The way they're written makes it feel like I'm actually riding along with Sam and Dean...wait, did you just call him Dean?" Gus turned to Sam.

            "Gus, you'd better sit down.  We've got a lot to tell you," Shawn said, pointing to Gus' chair.

            Gus sat down, looking at the trio curiously.  Shawn grabbed his rolling chair and sat down next to him, a smile on his face. 

            "First of all, my name is Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam," Dean pointed to himself and his brother.

            "And we really are hunters," Sam added.

            Gus blinked a few times.  Shawn knew instantly that Gus was on the disbelieving team.  He knew how his best friend felt.  It made the pseudo-psychic remember how he had learned the truth.

Early 2005 Des Moines, Iowa

            Shawn stepped out of the Biggerson's, finishing his burger and taking a final sip of his pineapple smoothie.  He'd been in the city for about a month, and he knew it'd be time to move on soon, considering his money was running out. 

            Throwing away the cup and the foil wrapping, Shawn started walking down the sidewalk toward the bus stop.  That's when he spotted a sweet car rolling up to the curb.  A 1967 Impala in black. 

            Shawn whistled, "Wow."

            Two guys got out of the car and began walking toward the restaurant.  The shorter guy turned back around, opened his trunk and pulled out what looked like a credit card from a dingy green duffle bag.

            Shawn ‘zoomed' in with his hyper-observant gift.  Some strange markings were on the underneath the trunk hood. 

            ‘What in the?' he thought.  Shawn had never seen those kinds of markings on anything before, even a car trunk. 

            Shawn went into stealth mode and followed the two back inside.  These two guys peaked his interest.  Something was slightly off about them and Shawn wanted to find out what ‘it' was.

            Using those dang skills his dad had drilled into him, Shawn watched from behind a door as the two guys sat down after ordering.  The taller one had ordered some kind of salad.  The more rugged one wearing a leather jacket had ordered a bacon double cheeseburger with everything on it. 

            Shawn stealthily got into a good listening range to see what these two were actually up to.  He grabbed a newspaper and pretended to read the sports section. 

            "So, where are we heading now?" Sam asked as he took a bite of salad.

            "Well," Dean said as he grabbed a national paper up from the table.  He thumbed through a few pages until he found the story he'd seen earlier at the hotel room, "a twenty-three-year-old woman was murdered.  Nothing was left behind but the head and bones."

            Sam shook his head, "Sounds like our kind of case.  By the way, how are you feeling?"

            Dean looked up at Sam with a sigh, "I'm fine, Sam.  I've told you a million times I'm fine.  Don't ask me again."

            Sam looked back down and started stabbing the lettuce in his salad.  Shawn figured they were brothers by how they were acting toward each other.  This Sam looked like he may have been through the ringer.  As did the other guy.  Shawn hadn't quite caught his name, yet.

            "What do you think did that?" Sam suddenly asked.

            "Werewolf gone wild?  Or a vamp gone rogue?" Dean asked.

            Shawn blinked, ‘Werewolf?  Vampire?  What are these two guys on?'

            "Could be anything, Dean.  Let's get back to the hotel and I'll start doing some lore research."

            Nodding in silent agreement, Dean gathered up the remnants of his lunch and tossed it out.  Sam and he walked out the doors like they were in a hurry.  Shawn immediately followed and hopped a cab to follow the Impala.

            A few twists and turns and twenty minutes later, the Impala pulled into the Sunshine Motel and parked about halfway down the parking lot.  The cab Shawn was in stopped by the office; dropping Shawn off and driving away. 

            Ducking around a corner, Shawn watched this ‘Sam and Dean' look around suspiciously before opening the trunk of the Impala.  That's when Shawn's eyes widened; as Dean opened a false bottom of the trunk and pulled out a sawed off shotgun. 

            ‘Who are these guys?' Shawn thought as he began to sneak toward them.

            Dean had turned his back to where Shawn had been, talking to Sam.  They had closed the trunk and were heading to their room.  As soon as they shut the door, Shawn ran up to the Impala.

            Pulling out a pen, Shawn finagled it until he had the perfect lock pick.  He looked around, seeing he was alone for the time being.  He started to pick open the lock when he heard a familiar sound, a gun being primed.

            "Exactly what do you think you're doing?" came a gruff voice.  Shawn dropped the lock pick, raised his hands and looked up slowly at the person. 

            "I, I thought this was my dad's car.  He lost his keys and the spares are in the trunk," Shawn said.  He saw that is was this Dean character. 

            Dean raised his eyebrow, "That is my car.  Nobody picks the locks on my baby."

            "Your baby?  Dude, it's a car," Shawn said.

            "It was my dad's car, and it belongs to me since he died," Dean said a little harshly.

            Shawn eyed the gun, "I'm sorry, man.  Really."

            Dean gave Shawn a hard look, but dropped the gun.  Sam came out at that moment, worry creasing his brow.  When he saw Shawn, he spoke:

            "Dean, who's this?"

            "I'm Shawn Spencer.  I know your first names, Sam and Dean," he said.

            The brothers glanced at each other, then Dean raised his gun again, "You were just leaving, right Shawn?"

            Shawn focused on the gun and saw that the safety was off.  This Dean dude wasn't playing around.  Shawn decided that he should go for the gusto.

            "What about those werewolves you were chasing?" he suddenly asked.

            Dean blinked, the words surprising him.  Did this guy just say werewolves?  Was he a hunter?

            "Oh, and the vampires?" Shawn added.

            Sam and Dean gave each other a look.  Dean dropped the gun and glared at Shawn.

            "Who are you?  Really?" he asked gruffly.

            "Shawn Spencer.  Look, it's obvious you both need a little help.  There are no such things as vampires or werewolves," he explained.

            ‘This guy is a winner,' Dean thought.

            "Who said anything about werewolves and vampires?" Sam asked.

            "You two did, back at Biggerson's.  I heard you guys discussing some sort of case and you mentioned them," Shawn answered.

            "You've been following us since then?" Dean questioned.

            Shawn looked at his feet sheepishly, "Well, yeah.  I had to see who you two really were.  You're not FBI or CIA.  You both definitely aren't cops..."

            "How do you know we aren't cops?" Sam asked.

            "Because my dad was a cop.  I know how it all works.  Police procedure and all that boring stuff was drilled into my head all the while I was growing up."

            Sam suddenly sympathized with this Shawn character.  It sounded a lot like the childhood he and Dean had with their dad as he trained them to be hunters.

            Dean softened a bit, but didn't show it on the outside.  Was this guy for real?

            "Maybe we're undercover," Dean suggested.

            "No, because you wouldn't be driving such an obvious car.  A 1967 Chevy Impala isn't the most inconspicuous car in the world, Dude," Shawn said.

            Dean raised an eyebrow; impressed with Shawn's deductions.  Whoever this guy was, he was good.  Maybe he was a hunter, or he was something else. 

            ‘Only one way to find out,' Dean thought as he carefully pulled out the flask of holy water.

            Shawn watched Dean's every move, eyeing the flask he pulled out of his pocket. 

            ‘What the?  Now he wants a drink?' Shawn thought.

            Dean tried to distract Shawn by pointing over to the other side of the lot, "Hey, look.  Uh, churros!"

            Shawn turned at the thought of food then felt water cascade over his head.  He turned back around to see Dean look slightly confused. 

            ‘Not a demon,' he thought.

            "What was that for?" Shawn asked angrily, wiping his face off with the bottom of his shirt.

            "I was checking.  You're a hunter, aren't you?" Dean finally asked.  Sam stood by, ready with the knife just in case this Shawn guy was something else besides a demon.

            "A hunter?  I don't hunt.  I can't stand to kill innocent creatures.  They deserve to live in the woods and the trees," Shawn said with a shake of his head.

            Dean and Sam looked confused, "What?" asked Sam.

            "No, that's not what I meant.  Look, why don't you come inside our hotel room and we'll talk," Dean suggested as he put the holy water back in his pocket.

            Shawn eyed Dean carefully, but nodded, "Uh, sure."

Gus sat back in his chair, stunned silent.  Shawn, Sam and Dean had just given him the entire backstory.  They were real!  Sam and Dean Winchester were actually real! 

            Standing up, Gus wiped his hands off on his pants and stuck out one to shake Dean and Sam's hand. 

            Dean smiled and shook Gus' hand, "Heya, Gus."

            Shawn smiled, "Okay, now that we're on the same page," he looked at the three of them to see if they got the clue.  When Dean chuckled, he continued, "We need to figure things out.  What have you two gotten so far?"

            Sam had already sat down at Shawn's computer and was typing furiously, "Well, this body could indicate some kind of scavenger.  We've had some before, back in Sioux Falls with Sheriff Mills.  Do you know if anything was missing, Shawn?"

            Shawn opened the file he'd taken from Lassiter's desk when the detective was checking out the FBI front, "According to this, no.  The woman's purse, credit cards, money, jewelry, everything was intact that they could tell."

            "Okay, so it might not be a scavenger.  What else could strip a body down to the bone?"  Dean asked.

            Sam continued typing, looking through the Men of Letters archives that he'd scanned into the computer.  He finally stopped on something that looked interesting.

            "Wait, this sounds similar to what happened to her: The Namorodo is an Aborigine legend of a vampire skeleton that only hunts at night. It kills its victims by draining their blood, stripping them of flesh, and turning them into a Namorodo like itself. It doesn't say how long the process takes for a skeleton to turn into a Namorodo."

            Dean leaned over Sam's shoulder and read the description, "Great, so not only do we have a creature we know nothing about, we could have more than one soon.  Just perfect."

            Shawn sat down, watching Gus' reaction.  He looked close to screaming and running out.

            "Gus, you with us?  If this is too much for you," Shawn started.

            Gus shook his head, "No, I'm good.  How do you, kill it?"

            Sam searched through the file, "There isn't a mention of how to kill it."

            Dean pondered for a moment, "You think, since it's like a vampire, maybe cutting off its head would work?"

            "Maybe.  But we'd better have some sort of backup plan.  Silver, iron, salt, the works."

            Dean looked down at his arm, "Hey, Sam, you think..."

            Sam knew exactly what Dean was talking about, "No.  We aren't even going to try it.  Besides, that's back in Kansas.  Right?"

            Dean looked away from Sam sheepishly, which made Sam jump up.

            "Dean!  You didn't bring it with you, did you?"

            "I figured we might need it," Dean said matter-of-factly.

            Sam's eyes rolled around for a moment.  Shawn, even though he wasn't really psychic, could sense the tension in the room.

            "Um, guys?  What are you talking about?" Shawn asked.

            Dean and Sam looked at Shawn then at each other.  Sighing, Dean rolled up the right sleeve of his shirt to show Shawn the Mark.

            "This is the Mark of Cain.  I was given the mark by Cain himself," Dean explained.

            Gus looked up at the mention of the biblical figure, "Cain?  You mean, the real Cain from Cain and Abel?"

            Sam looked at Gus and nodded, "Yeah, that very one."

            "Wouldn't he be ancient?  Like, dust?" Shawn asked.

            "No.  He's immortal.  I took on the mark so I could wield the First Blade," Dean said as he sat on the leather chair next to him.

            "And ever since he killed Abaddon, the Knight of Hell, Dean can't touch the blade unless he wants to go mental," Sam said.

            Shawn widened his eyes, "Mental?"

            Dean sighed as he pushed his sleeve back down, "Sammy's being overdramatic.  I'm fine.  And I haven't touched the blade.  It's in the metal box and warded with sigils."

            "I'm not being overdramatic, Dean," Sam growled.

            Sensing a fight, Shawn stepped in, "Look, why don't we focus on the case right now and worry about this whole biblical thing later?  Didn't you guys want to go meet the girl who was found this morning?"

            Sam looked grateful for the interruption, "Yeah, we need to check her out."

            Dean looked at Sam with a smile, the argument at the back of his mind for now, "Dude, you realize how that sounded, right?"

            Sam sighed, but smiled, "You know what I mean.  Come on, you two are about to get some on-the-job training."

            Shawn jumped up, eager to join the Winchesters.  Gus was even faster, knocking his chair over in the process of standing up.

            "Excited much?" Shawn joked.

            "Shawn, we're going on a case with Sam and Dean Winchester!  Of course I'm excited!"

            "Well, we're going to interview the woman that they found this morning.  She may have nothing to do with the murders, but then again, she may have everything to do with them," Sam said.

            "We've learned that sometimes, what seems unconnected can be connected in the most surprising of ways," Dean said.

            "As have we, my hunter friend," Shawn replied, nodding to Gus.

            "When?" Gus asked.

            Shawn sighed, "Dude, you ruined it!  I was going for an air of mystery."

            Sam and Dean chuckled at Gus' face, which had just screwed into disbelief toward Shawn.  Gus tsked and began to walk out the door toward the Blueberry when he was accosted by none other than Lassiter walking in.

            "Lassie!  To what do we owe the honor?" Shawn asked.

            "Stuff it, Spencer.  I'm here to talk to the FBI agents.  Alone," Lassiter said, glaring at Dean.

            That's when Dean's memory kicked in.  His eyes narrowed and he stormed over to Lassiter with anger.

            "What. In. The. Hell." Dean stated shortly.

            "I should've remembered you, Dean.  I guess I was too distracted by the murders," Lassiter said.

            Shawn blinked in surprise.  Lassie knew Dean?  How was that possible?

            "Wait, Lassie, you know him?" Shawn asked aloud.

            Dean and Lassiter looked at Shawn, then at each other.  The daggers they had for each other made Shawn and Sam wince, thinking the daggers could fly out and slice up everyone in the room.

            Sam put two and two together a minute later, realizing that Lassiter did look familiar; by the way he remembered Dean describing:

            "CAIN!" Sam cried out. 

            That made Shawn jump back a few feet, "Sam!  What the?"

            "It's Cain," Sam said quieter.

            Shawn and Gus simultaneously gasped.  Dean glared at Lassiter, which Lassie returned.

            "I told you this day would come, Dean," Lassiter/Cain said. 

            "No, it's not today.  I can feel it.  Is this what you do for fun?  Play a detective?" Dean asked, backing away from Lassiter and inching closer to Sam, Shawn and Gus.

            "Lassie-face?  You're Cain?  You're older than dirt?" Shawn asked.

            Temporarily losing his focus on Dean, Lassiter looked at Shawn, "Really?  Older than dirt?"

            "Wait, this is impossible!  Cain is a myth!" Gus shook his head.

            "Dude, were you not listening earlier?" Shawn asked.

            "Yeah, but the real Cain?  Look, I'm willing to believe that Sam and Dean are the real Winchesters.  I'm even willing to believe that a Namorodo exists.  But Cain?  Especially him being someone else we've known for years?  Don't you think that's a bit far-fetched, even for us?" Gus asked.

            Shawn looked at the brothers, then Lassie, then back to Gus.  Gus wasn't fully wrong; this was a lot to take in.  But, from what he remembered about Sam and Dean, their whole lives were far-fetched and downright impossible. 

            "Guster, listen.  I've been everything from a bee keeper to a tap dancer.  I'm a detective now because I'm trying to atone for my past.  I figure, solving murders and putting away criminals would be a step in the right direction.  But then, you two came along.  You both, especially you, Spencer, put a notch in my plan to make up for my checkered past."

            Shawn sighed, "So, that's the explanation.  You don't like the fact we honed in on your turf and took away any chance at redemption for what you've done in the past."

            Lassiter nodded, scooting around Dean and sitting on the edge of Shawn's desk, "Exactly.  Look, I know you aren't really psychic.  It's kind of obvious.  Besides, if you really were, this," Lassiter lifted up his sleeve to show his Mark, "would've glowed like crazy in your presence."

            Shawn and Gus glanced at each other, nodding in agreement.  "So, now what?" Gus asked finally.

            "Now, we figure out what's killing innocent people and take care of business like we're supposed to," Lassiter said, pulling his sleeve back down to cover up the Mark. 

            Dean scratched his Mark through his sleeve, "As much as I hate to, I agree with Ca...I mean, Lassiter.  We need to gank this, whatever it is, before another person becomes a skeleton."

            Carlton sighed, "That's another reason I came.  If you weren't here, Dean, I would've told Spencer and Guster that there was another murder.  Only, this one looks completely different.  In truth, it was an animal attack, but a certain kind of animal.  One only the damned can see."

            "Hell Hounds," Dean said with a shiver.

            "Great," Sam grimaced. 

            "Hell Hounds?  Wait, those are real, too?" Gus asked.

            Shawn was amazed at the fact that they did, in fact, exist.  He shuddered audibly.

            "Yes.  They're very real and very ugly.  I know, I've seen them up close and personal," Dean said, shivering and mindlessly rubbing his chest; where the Hell Hound had torn him to shreds a few years prior.

            Sam winced, the flashback of Dean being ripped apart still fresh in his mind.  Of course, that was also the day he'd discovered that he was becoming immune to demon powers thanks to his own powers.  Well, his past powers.  Ever since Lucifer rose, they had disappeared.  He never told Dean, but he still tried moving things.  So far, the results were surprising.

            "So, we have a possible skeleton vampire and Hell Hounds on the loose in a beach town in the middle of tourist season?" Shawn listed. 

            "We need to speak to the girl who was missing," Dean said, looking at Lassiter sideways.  The detective was scratching his Mark.

            "Right.  She lives on Second Street, not too far from the murder scene.  Apartment 15A in the Andros Building." Shawn read from the file.

            "Spencer, where'd you get that?" Lassiter asked.

            "Um, your desk when you were calling about these two?" Shawn pointed to Sam and Dean, who were loosening their ties.

            Groaning, Lassiter glared at Shawn, but shook his head, "It's a good thing that I've kept my anger under control, or you would've been torn to pieces by now.  I hope you've been able to control your anger, Dean."

            "I'm fine, Ca...Lassiter," Dean growled.

            "As long as you don't have the First Blade, you'll be all right," Lassiter chided.

            Silence fell over the men standing there in the Psych office.  Lassiter knew immediately that the First Blade was near if Dean's face was any indication. 

            The older Winchester's eyes shifted to the window, where you could see the Impala shining in the California sun. 

            "It's here!  You brought the bloody thing with you!"  Lassiter exclaimed.

            "I haven't touched it!  It's in a metal box and it's warded with dozens of sigils.  Nobody is getting in that thing, not even me.  No angel or demon can touch it, either."

            Gus looked up, "Angel?"

            As if he'd been called, there was a sudden burst of air in the room.  There, standing by the TV, was a man in a trench-coat with black hair and a blue tie.

            "Sam, Dean," he said in a gruff, hoarse voice.

            Shawn and Gus blinked at the sudden appearance of this person.  No words were spoken for a moment, so Shawn took the initiative.

            "Hi, I'm..." he started.

            "Shawn Spencer.  Yes, I know.  I'm Castiel, an angel of the Lord," he replied, extending his hand.

            Shawn stepped back, but gently accepted Castiel's hand and shook it gingerly, "Really?  You're a real, live angel?"

            "Real, yes.  Alive, well, I think that depends on your idea of angels," Dean said.  He nodded to Cas, who acknowledged him with a gruff hello.

            "Cain, what are you doing here?" Cas asked after he let go of Shawn's hand.

            "My name here is Carlton Lassiter, Head Detective for the Santa Barbara Police Department.  How are you, Castiel?"

            "Wondering if the brothers have figured anything out yet.  I'm here to offer my assistance," Cas replied, looking over at Sam and Dean.

            Gus leaned over and placed his hands on his desk, breathing in and out quickly.  ‘An angel?  An actual angel is standing in our office?  I'm definitely through the looking glass now.' He thought as he looked back up at Castiel.

            "How come I don't see wings?  Or haven't you earned them, yet?" Shawn boldly asked.

            Cas suddenly lit up and the shadow of his wings appeared behind him.  Shawn and Gus jumped back and covered their eyes.

            "Please don't kill me!  Kill Shawn for blasphemy!" Gus whimpered.

            Cas' light dimmed down, "Why?"

            Dean stepped in front of his angel friend, "Don't worry, Cas, they're just taking it all in.  Come on, we need to find the girl.  Let's go before anyone else shows up."

            "Anyone else?" Gus asked, still hyperventilating from Castiel's light show.

            "Don't ask," Sam said seriously.

The lot of them headed out to the parking spots. Gus and Shawn stopped in front of the Impala.

            "Are we riding with you guys, or Lassie, or what?" Shawn asked.

            Dean looked at Cas, "Cas, are you riding or flying?"

            "I believe I'll ride with the non-psychic assistant," Cas said, pointing to Gus.

            Gus stood speechless for a moment as he watched Castiel get into the passenger seat of the Blueberry.  Shawn gaped at the angel's audacity but thought better of saying anything.  He didn't feel like being destroyed today, anyway.      

            Knowing that he would be crunched up in that backseat, Shawn gave a pleading look to Dean.  Without a word, the elder Winchester nodded and opened up the driver side door.  The Impala's door squeaked in protest.

            "Come on, Shawn. We can catch up on the way," Dean said with a smile.

            "Sounds like a plan," Shawn said as he climbed in behind the driver's seat. 

            Sam opened the passenger door and fit his tall frame into the Impala.  Shawn wondered why the younger brother was so quiet.  In fact, he was brimming with questions about what the heck was going on. 

            ‘Lassie is Cain; Dean has some weird mark on his arm that looks like a backwards F that he called the Mark of Cain.  There are angels and one is a friend of the Winchesters.  Yeah, this day is just beyond normal.  Well into paranormal.' Shawn thought as the black Chevy began its drive to downtown Santa Barbara, following Lassiter's Ford Fusion.

            "Shawn, what's with the psychic detective thing?" Sam asked, breaking the silence.

            "Kind of a last ditch idea.  It was either psychic or jail time from our friend Lassie, or Cain.  What about your psychic powers, Sam?  How's that going?"

            "They're gone.  It's a long story of how they vanished, but they're gone," Sam replied. 

            Both Shawn and Dean noticed a touch of bitterness in Sam's voice.  Dean spoke before Shawn could ask any questions.

            "I thought you were relieved they were gone.  No more freaky psychic thing," he said as he turned a corner.

            Sam sighed and looked out the window, "I am, it's just," he started.

            "Just what?  Those powers were beyond evil, Sammy.  I mean, they came from demon blood," Dean announced.

            Shawn could sense the tension that was building in the car, regretting asking his query.  A fight was brewing between the brothers, and Shawn Spencer was about to be in the middle of it.

            Gus, meanwhile, dared glance over at Castiel, who was looking out the window at the passing scenery.  The Blueberry was traveling behind the Impala.

            "It's okay to ask questions, Burton," Cas said, turning to look at the pharmaceutical rep.

            "Well, first off, I like to be called Gus.  Secondly, are you really a true angel?  I've always read angels are invisible."

            "This is a vessel.  His name is Jimmy Novak.  He's a devout man and accepted me.  An angel cannot possess someone without permission.  Unlike demons, who can take over anyone at any time," Cas said, running his hand over the dashboard, "You keep this car quite clean, Gus."

            "Its...a company car.  I work for a pharmaceutical company," Gus answered slowly. 

            Cas nodded, "Yes, I know.  You don't have to be afraid of me, Gus.  I can tell you're a devout man with a very good heart."

            Gus smiled a small grin and turned to Cas, "Say, do you like pineapple?"

            Lassiter drove his car with determination.  Being he was alone, he had time to think. 

            What was going to happen?  Now that Spencer and Guster knew who he *really* was, would it ever be the same?  Would he have to up and leave again to escape his past?  Could he continue to be a cop? 

            ‘This had better be an open and shut case.  Dean may not make it through if the blade is that close.  It'll call to him, and me.  Hopefully he's right, and it's warded from demons,' he thought as he looked in the rearview mirror.  Black eyes stared back, signaling he was upset.

            ‘Calm down, Cain.  Just relax and everything will be fine,' he told himself.  When he looked in the mirror again, his eyes were back to the ice blue everyone knew.

            Before long, the three cars pulled up to the apartment complex.  Six different men stepped out of the three very different cars.  A black Ford Fusion revealing a detective/demon with the Mark; a blue Echo with a pharmaceutical rep and an angel wearing a trench-coat, and a black 1967 Chevy Impala presenting a man with the Mark of Cain and anger issues, a former demon blood drinking, former psychic and a fake psychic/real detective.

            While the detective, angel and pharmaceutical rep began to walk to the door, the former psychic, the fake psychic and the anger laden bearer of the Mark of Cain went to the trunk of the Impala. 

            Shawn stood back for a moment as the brothers grabbed a few ‘essentials' like holy water and salt.  Dean stopped for a second, giving Sam a sideways glance.  For the last mile or so, the boys hadn't spoken, ending their conversation in the car at high volume.  Shawn knew that, because of him, they weren't punching each other's lights out; they were giving each other the silent treatment.

            "Um, guys?  I'm kind of at a loss, here.  It's my fault.  I shouldn't have asked any questions.  I know how private your lives are," Shawn apologized.

            Sam looked at Shawn with a softness in his eyes, "No, it's not your fault, Shawn."

            Dean raised an eyebrow, "Yeah.  This fight has been brewing for years, apparently."

            Suddenly, a silver flask was handed to Shawn by Sam, "Here, just in case we run into any demon trouble."

            Shawn looked at the flask, noticing the cross etched into the surface.  It was really ornate and, if he so inclined to think it, the thing was pretty. 

            "Holy water?  Uh, you guys know I can shoot, right?" Shawn asked.

            "We don't know what we're dealing with, so no shooting except by us if it's necessary," Dean said, pointing to his trusty gun. 

            Shawn sighed, "Fine."

            Sam looked at Dean, "Let's just get this over with."

            Dean rolled his eyes, "Whatever."

            Shawn watched the brothers walk to the apartment building, where Gus, Cas and Lassie were waiting impatiently.  He shook his head, knowing that they were all in for a very long day if the Winchesters couldn't stop fighting for two minutes. 

            Sam glanced at his brother, fuming but also concerned.  Why didn't Dean get it?  Yes, the powers he had from Azazel were evil, and he learned that even more when Ruby came into his life the second time, but still, he had those powers for a reason, didn't he?

            He knew Dean would argue that he had them for Azazel's evil army.  But he would argue back that he used those powers to exorcise demons and still saved a lot of people. 

            They all got to the apartment door, where Shawn took the initiative and knocked.  He stepped back, gripping the flask tightly in case there was trouble.  All the while, he was focused on the brothers and their body language.  They were seriously angry with each other, but were determined to get their job done. 

            The door opened slowly to reveal a young woman with long, brown hair.  She looked at the six men standing in the hallway with blue/green eyes that filled with worry.

            "May I...help you?" she asked cautiously.

            Lassiter stepped forward, "I'm Detective Carlton Lassiter with the Santa Barbara Police Department."

            "I'm Agent Lucas and this is Agent Spielberg from the FBI.  We would like to ask you a few questions about your disappearance." Sam said as he and Dean flashed their badges.

            The woman raised an eyebrow, "Wait, I'm fine.  Why would you want to ask me anything?"

            "May we please come in?" Gus asked politely.

            She thought about it for a moment.  Sighing in defeat, she opened the door fully and gestured for them to enter her apartment.  The six men did so while thanking her in the process.

            Cas hadn't seen the girl until that moment, "She's still possessed," he announced, his Angel Blade appearing in his right hand.

            The girl's eyes suddenly turned black, "Castiel, how interesting.  I thought you were dead.  Well, now I'll have the pleasure of killing all of you!"

            Suddenly all six of them were flung around the room by a wave of her hand.  Gus flew back toward the door and crashed against the mirror that resided on the wall next to the door.  The shattered glass stabbed Gus in the spine, severing his spinal cord and cutting off his brain from his body.

            Lassie was flung sideways, landing on the top of the couch.  He groaned, knowing there were at least a few broken ribs after landing on the hardest part of the furniture.  He watched as Guster flew through the air, hit the mirror and then was still on the floor.

            Shawn would've shouted in glee because he was flying, but seeing as it was due to a demon, he screamed in fear.  His back hit the wall farthest from the door.  The air whooshed out of him as he landed hard on the floor.  The flask of holy water flew out of his hand and fell near the demon.

            Sam fell backwards, landing only a few feet from Gus.  He watched Dean fly through the air; hitting his head against the ceiling before coming down to the ground and lying still.  Dean, Sam surmised, was out cold.

            The younger Winchester looked around, seeing the rest of them laying in awkward positions, save for Lassiter/Cain, who was slowly getting up.  Dean stayed still, but his chest was moving; Shawn looked like he was out cold, too.  Cas was still standing, facing the woman with the demon eyes, and Gus...

            "Gus?  Gus, wake up," Sam said, crawling over to the man in the khakis. 

            Sam placed his fingers against Gus' neck, checking for a pulse.  He waited a minute before realizing that there was no heartbeat.  Sam turned Gus over to find a large shard of the mirror sticking out of Gus' spine.

            ‘He's dead.  That demon is going to pay for killing an innocent man,' Sam thought as he struggled to his feet.  When he made it to standing, he watched as Cas tried to stab the woman with his angel blade. 

            Cas missed and was thrown across the room into Lassiter, who was in turn knocked back over the couch. 

            Sam raised his right hand up and began to concentrate.  He made a quick gesture and the demon woman flew against the opposite wall from Cas and Lassiter.  He walked over to her.

            "Well, I see Sam Winchester is still special.  How interesting.  I'm sure Lucifer would love that," the demon said snidely. 

            Sam smirked, "You can tell him when you return to Hell.  First, who's responsible for the murder of Melissa Anderson?"

            The demon's eyes blinked, "Who?"

            Sam focused, torturing the demon.  The evil thing screamed in pain until Sam let go and asked again.

            "I don't know!  I swear!" the demon cried out. 

            Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shawn and Dean both beginning to stir.  Not wanting his brother to find out about his returning powers, he focused.

            "Go back to Hell and tell them I'm back," he said. 

Black smoke escaped from the mouth of Serena Greene.  It fell to the ground as if it were heavier than air.  A circle formed around Serena as the black smoke began to burn through the carpet and into the depths below.

            Dean opened his eyes just after.  He'd missed his brother using the demon killing powers, so he was focused more on his head and how much it hurt.  Dean looked over and saw Shawn slowly pushing himself up on his behind.

            "Shawn?  You all right, man?" Dean asked.

            Shawn looked at Dean with unfocused eyes, "Yeah, Mommy.  I'm fine," he said in a child-like voice.

            Dean shook his head, "Yeah, not fine," he said more to himself. 

            Shawn blinked, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain.  When the scene finally came into focus, he turned back to Dean, "I'm okay.  My head is killing me, though. Gus?  Gus, you all right buddy?"

            Shawn slowly got up and walked over to Gus.  Sam said nothing but watched sadly as Shawn began to prod his best friend.

            "Gus?  Hey, this is no time to go boneless on me, man.  Gus?  Gus?" Shawn reached down and felt for a pulse.  His own heart quickened as he searched for the ‘thump' in Gus' neck.  He wasn't finding one.

            "Shawn," Sam said gently as he kneeled down next to the fake psychic, "Gus, well, he didn't make it."

            Shawn shook his head, "No, he's okay.  He has to be!  He's not dead!  He's not!"

            The faux psychic's eyes began brimming with tears.  This wasn't happening.  His best friend couldn't be dead. 

            "No, do something!  Gus can't die!  I'm supposed to die in a blaze of fire while he watches helplessly," Shawn said seriously.

            Sam and Dean raised eyebrows, but said nothing.  They could only watch as Shawn began to cry over his friend.

            Castiel and Lassiter had gotten up by then, brushing themselves off and seeing the carnage that was left behind.  Cas walked over to Shawn.

            "Shawn, I can bring him back," Cas said in his gruff voice.

            For a moment, Shawn stopped crying, "Did anyone ever tell you your voice seems too deep for an angel?"

            Cas said nothing, but reached down and placed two fingers on Gus' forehead.  Within seconds, Gus gasped for breath as the injuries healed.

            "Gus!  Oh, Buddy, I'm so glad you're okay!" Shawn said, hugging his friend tightly.

            "I won't be if you don't stop squeezing so tight, Shawn!" Gus managed to squeak out. 

            Shawn let up a little, but helped Gus to his feet.  When he was stable and steady, Gus gave Cas a grateful smile.

            "Thank you.  I thought I was a goner," Gus said.

            The other five men in the room gave Gus a questioning look.  Lassiter spoke first, "You were, Guster.  Castiel brought you back from the dead."

            "Never were subtle, were you, Lassie?" Shawn asked with a shake of his head.

            Gus looked at Lassiter, then to Cas.  He realized Lassie was telling the truth.  Suddenly, he started hyperventilating. 

            "Gus?  What's wrong?" Sam asked, placing a hand on Gus' shoulder.

            "I...was...dead?" he asked in spurts.

            "As a doorknob," Shawn said.

            "That's doornail, Shawn," Dean replied.

            "I've heard it both ways," Shawn responded.

            A light chuckle escaped from Sam and Dean, but no one else.  Gus thanked Cas again.

            Cas shook his head, "There's no need to thank me.  Excuse me while I heal the girl the demon was possessing."

            The angel walked over to the Serena's still form and place his hand over her head.  A white glow appeared as Castiel healed her.  Seconds later, her eyes opened, revealing a bright shade of blue.

            "Serena?  Are you all right?" Sam asked first.  He was hoping he hadn't hurt her in the process of expelling the demon.

            "Yeah, I think so.  Who are you guys?" she returned groggily. 

            Sam and Dean nodded to each other, "We're here to help.  What do you remember?" Dean asked.

            Serena tilted her head, as if memories were replaying on a screen in her head.  Her face twisted into horror as the picture came into focus.

            "Oh, my...what did I do?"  she began crying.

            "You didn't do anything.  You were possessed," Castiel said.

            "Possessed?  By what?" she asked.

            "A...a demon," Shawn stuttered.

            "A what?" Serena asked, standing up with Sam's assistance.

            "A demon," Dean said more assuredly. 

            Serena's eyes widened, "A demon?  Seriously."  Her arms crossed over her chest in disbelief.

            "Seriously.  That's why we're here.  Have you ever heard of a Melissa Anderson?" Lassiter asked.

            Serena cocked her head, "Yeah, she was in my senior class in high school.  Why?"

            "She was killed two days ago," Castiel announced.

            "Killed!  By whom?" Serena cried.

            "We're not sure, yet.  Do you know anything about it?" Sam asked.

            Serena shook her head, "No, of course not!  Why would I?"

            "We were thinking that maybe the demon who possessed you had something to do with her death," Dean said.

            Serena shook her head, "I remember doing a lot of awful things, but I don't remember that."

            The six men in the room had different reactions to her statement; Dean studied Serena, trying to read her body language.  Sam and Gus took her for her word.  Shawn was busy eyeing the mirror shard that had stabbed Gus in the back.  Castiel and Lassiter seemed satisfied with her answer.

            Meanwhile, back at the SBPD, an older gentlemen walked into the bullpen wearing a white lab coat and smiling brightly.  He was greeted by Juliet.

            "Hi, Juliet, how are you this fine day?"

            "I'm wonderful, Woody.  Except I can't find Lassiter or Shawn anywhere.  It's not like them to leave me here.  I hope Shawn didn't push Carlton too far and they're at the shooting range."

            Woody shook his head, "I doubt that.  Knowing Shawn, he skated by and Lassiter is probably at the shooting range himself.  Well, I'm off to check out some bodies and relieve my counterpart from his duties.  I'll see you later, Juliet!"

            Juliet watched with a bit of amusement and confusion as Woody made his way to the morgue in the basement of the SBPD building.  To her, the coroner seemed a little, unlike himself. 

            ‘Maybe that little vacation did some good for him,' she thought as she went back to hunting for her partner and her boyfriend.

            Woody walked into the morgue, noting it looked cleaner than when he'd left the week before.  He walked around the corner to his office and found his replacement for the duration of his vacation.

            "Reginald," Woody said, hanging up his lab coat.  The usually overly optimistic coroner scowled at the younger counterpart.

            "Hello, Zachariah.  I see you've returned from your time with the wayward angel Castiel.  How'd the interrogation go?"

            "He managed to escape and fly back to the Winchesters.  My wings still hurt from the punishment that was inflicted upon me," Woody/Zach said as he sat down on top of his desk.

            Reginald shook his head, "You are better than that, Zachariah."

            Woody/Zach glared, "It's time for you to head back.  Don't you need to receive Revelations?"

            Reginald stood up, "Yes, you're right.  I will return for an update after.  By the way, how do you put up with that Shawn Spencer?  He's quite annoying for a human."

            "You learn to live with it.  Imagine pretending to be a prophet.  I don't know what our Father was thinking when he created that snarky meat suit," Woody said, picking up a clipboard.  He began to study the paper.

            "The body that's in the cooler was Gary Cross.  He was killed last night.  Even I'm not sure what killed him, but it isn't pretty," Reginald said.

            "I'll take a look.  I'm betting Shawn, Gus, Lassiter and Juliet will be down here soon to look.  Take your leave, Reginald," Woody waved his hand.  A sound of wings flapping indicated that the younger angel was gone.

            "Finally.  Now, to fall back into my role as Woodward Strode, Medical Examiner.  The things this man had in his head..." Zachariah trailed off, walking toward the main part of the morgue. 

            Right as he exited his office, Juliet walked in alone.  She sighed, shaking her head.

            "What's the matter?" Woody/Zach asked, trying to lighten his mood.

            "I still can't find them.  I don't get it, Woody.  I've called their cells, I've checked with the shooting range, I even called Henry.  No one's seen Lassiter or Shawn.  Ever since this morning when those FBI agents showed up."

            "FBI?  Why were they here?  They didn't come down here, did they?" Woody asked, looking paranoid.

            "No, they left with Shawn and Gus.  Then Lassiter left a while later, grumbling something about past mistakes and such.  I'm not sure why the FBI showed up.  Our missing person turned up alive and well."

            Woody watched as Juliet sat down in a chair nearest the cooler.  He could read her, considering his angelic powers.  She was nervous that something truly bad had happened.  He knew better, of course.  True, he didn't have an exact location, but he knew Shawn was still alive.  Lassiter, on the other hand...

            Yes, he knew that Lassiter was, in fact, Cain.  And Lassiter knew he was, in fact, Zachariah the Angel.  They had agreed long ago that as long as each plays their part, no one would know the truth. 

            "Juliet, I'm sure they're okay.  It's not like aliens took them, right?" he asked, digging into the real Woody's brain to find a crazy response.  He hated doing it, but the humans that worked at the police department expected it.

            Zachariah hadn't "possessed" Woody right away.  He watched him; studying him as it were, from another vessel.  Woody was THE vessel for Zachariah, just as Dean was supposed to be for Michael and Sam for Lucifer. 

All angels had chosen vessels.  Most were left to their own devices, never having to be possessed or never asking for it.  Others prayed daily to be helped; while certain ones said yes almost the minute they first heard Enochian. 

Often Zachariah wondered why Woody was his, but when the coroner was at a low point in his life (he had ‘finally' figured out his wife was cheating on him) Zachariah let Woody know the truth.  Woody said yes with some hesitation; something about being taken and probed by aliens was constantly questioned. 

Now, Zachariah stood there, looking at Juliet with Woody's face.  Juliet smiled and shook her head.

"No, I'm sure that wasn't it, Woody.  I'm going to call Shawn's cell again.  Maybe he was just out of cell range.  Or, he has his phone off.  Maybe I'll call Carlton again, instead," Juliet said, wandering out of the morgue with cell phone in hand.

Woody/Zach watched her walk away, then turned to the cooler.  He opened the door to where one Gary Cross was residing to find it empty.  All that was left was a pool of blood. 

"Well, this is concerning.  Where is our dead human?" he said to himself. 

Back with our six men, Shawn opened the back door of the Impala and let Serena climb in.  After some careful convincing, she had agreed to return with them to the Psych office.  Castiel had burned some warding sigils into her ribs so that she could never be possessed again.  He then took leave and got back into the Blueberry. 

Dean and Sam were still mad at each other, but Shawn could see they were getting along for now.  It seemed that Dean being knocked out opened up a soft spot with Sam.  Shawn remembered that the two, even though they fought, were close.  Kind of like he and his father.

"Shawn?" Sam asked, giving the faux psychic a confused look.

"Sorry, Sam.  I was just thinking.  Are you all settled, Serena?" Shawn asked.

The young woman nodded, "I think so.  Where are the seatbelts in this thing?"

Dean looked offended, "Thing?  The car's name is Baby.  And we don't need no stinkin' seatbelts."

Serena looked suddenly frightened.  Sam took pity on her, "Dean, give it a rest.  She doesn't know what Baby means to you."

Dean looked from his brother to Serena, "Sorry.  This was our dad's car.  He died a few years ago."

"I'm sorry.  I..I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Dean," Serena said.

"It's over.  Don't worry about it," Dean replied with a smile on his face.

"And with that, we head back to the office," Shawn said as he slid in beside Serena. 

Juliet, meanwhile, looked at her cell, wondering why Carlton, Shawn and even Gus weren't answering their phones.  She'd even called the Psych office, and nothing.  She was already past concerned.  She was frightened.

Karen walked out, noting Juliet's fearful look.  She had noticed the absence of her head detective, psychic detective and private detective.  Being that she saw Juliet, Karen knew this wasn't a case. 

"O'Hara? Where are the others?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, Chief.  I've called everyone's cell phones and no answer.  I'm really worried."

"Are they with those agents?  I have Agent Spielberg's number right here." Karen said, handing Juliet a card.

Juliet breathed a sigh, "Thanks, Chief.  I'll call him right now."

Karen began to walk away, but stopped and turned back to the young detective, "By the way, did it seem that Shawn knew those agents?"

Juliet stopped mid-phone number and thought for a moment, "I'm not sure.  He did seem a bit anxious after they showed up."

Karen nodded, "That's what I thought.  I wonder why?  Well, keep me informed of their location."

Juliet nodded and typed the last couple of digits into her cell.  It rang once, twice then she heard a voice.

"Agent Spielberg," Dean's voice came through.

"Agent, this is Detective O'Hara from the SBPD.  I'm actually calling because I can't seem to find Shawn.  Is he still with you?"

Dean looked in the rearview mirror, "Yeah, he's right here, hold on, Detective."

Shawn looked up, "Who is it?"

"It's Detective O'Hara," Dean said, handing the phone back.  Shawn accepted it and put it up to his ear.

"Hey, Jules.  What's up?" Shawn asked.

"What's up?  I've been trying to call you for almost two hours!  Is your phone off again?"

Shawn flinched, hearing the anger and worry in his girlfriend's voice.  It spelled trouble.

He took out his phone and saw it was dead.  He'd forgotten to charge it, again...

"I'm sorry, Jules.  I was watching Netflix on my phone last night and fell asleep.  I was seriously getting into Daredevil!" Shawn said.

"Shawn," Juliet warned.

The faux psychic stopped talking.  When she knew he was listening, she continued.

"Is Carlton with you?  I can't seem to get a hold of him, either."

Shawn looked ahead and saw the Fusion darting around traffic, "He's driving his car.  We're heading toward the Psych office, then we'll head back to the station.  Don't you worry, we'll be back soon."

"Why do I get this feeling you're avoiding me?  The both of you?" Juliet asked angrily.

"What?  No!  We aren't avoiding you!  When we get back to the station, we'll tell you what's going on.  Okay?  Big fat kisses!" Shawn said hurriedly.

Juliet sighed, "Big fat kisses."

When Shawn ended the call, he breathed out, "We are so totally avoiding her."

Dean took back his phone, "What are you going to tell her?"

Shawn shook his head, "I have no idea, Man."

Gus was driving along behind the Impala, Cas in the passenger seat.  The pharmaceutical rep wanted to ask some major questions, but he didn't know how to word them.

"Is there something you wish to say, Gus?  You've been staring at me since you woke up," Castiel questioned.

"Was I really...dead?" Gus asked finally.

Cas looked at Gus and nodded, "Yes.  However, it wasn't your time."

"So, what now? Do I have to be more careful, or am I immortal?" Gus asked, hoping for the latter with the kid side of him.

Cas gave Gus a funny look, "No, you aren't immortal.  No human is."

"What about Sam and Dean?  They seem to be immortal," Gus asked as he turned a corner.

"Sam and Dean are not immortal.  However, they are chosen.  It's why they keep coming back.  They both have a purpose that needs fulfilled before they can forever be in Heaven."

"Then why even let them die at all?  Why not just make them immortal?" Gus questioned.

"With every death comes a lesson for the Winchester brothers.  They must learn these lessons so that they can continue their mission," Cas explained.

The angel then fell silent, and Gus went to contemplating what happened.  He knew, now, that if he was alive, he definitely had a purpose.  But what was it?  Pharmaceutical rep or private detective?

"That question will be answered in time, Gus," Cas said suddenly.

"How'd you know?" Gus queried.

"I can read your mind.  You'll know soon enough which path you should take.  Right now, you need to focus on the matter at hand.  You and your friend Shawn are important to this case."

"We are?"

"Yes," answered Cas.  He fell silent once again, looking out the window. 

Lassie was calm as he drove toward the Psych office.  He felt different, knowing that Shawn and Gus were okay with his huge secret past.

That's what hit the detective/Father of Murder the hardest; Shawn Spencer knew Lassiter's true identity and true past and didn't say anything snarky or ridiculous about it.  Well, he did say something along the lines of Lassie being ‘older than dirt', but still. 

            Shawn, Sam and Dean had fallen silent after the phone call, but Serena watched the boys with interest.  She did remember a lot of bad things the demon had done in her body.  She shivered, knowing that ‘something' was inside her, controlling her body and her voice. 

            "You all right, Serena?" Sam asked, looking in the rearview mirror at her. 

            "Not really.  The whole idea that something was controlling me is hitting me hard.  It's really freaky," she replied.

            "We've been there.  I was possessed a few years ago.  I still remember the feeling of it and how I felt completely helpless."

            Dean cast a sideways glance at his brother, a smirk on his face, "Yeah, and the best part was the demon was a woman."

            Sam rolled his eyes, but laughed, "Yeah, yeah.  That joke is old, Dean."

            The older Winchester laughed, "It's still funny!  You had a girl inside you for a week!"

            Serena smiled.  She liked these boys.  Shawn was interesting, but he was taken.  Dean was really cute, but Serena sensed he was a bit too wild for her taste.  That left Sam. 

            He seemed together, but he also had a brooding way about him.  His hair was just the right length for Serena's liking.  He wouldn't look right with it shorter or longer.  His eyes were big and round, but kind.  She could see that he'd had a troubled past, judging from the worry lines that creased his forehead.

            Serena wanted to ask him if he had a girlfriend, but knew that it might be out of place with what was going on. 

            "So, why are we going back to your office, Shawn?" she asked finally. 

            "To keep you safe until we figure out what's going on.  Demons usually pick random people to possess, but I get the feeling you were chosen on purpose.  Since you knew Melinda, it could be part of it," Dean answered.

            "Yeah, but I hardly knew her.  She was a bully in high school.  You know, the popular cheerleader who thought she was better than anyone else?  I never got along with her," Serena answered with a bit of bitterness in her voice.

            Shawn detected it right away, "She was a bully to you, wasn't she?"

            Serena nodded sadly, "Melinda didn't exactly make my life easy.  I was overweight in high school, and my self-esteem was already low.  She kept pushing it further down.  After high school, I went away to college, got healthy and became a firefighter."

            "Wow!  I was a firefighter for a day.  All that equipment was too much for me," Shawn said, shaking his head.

            "A day?  You were only one for a day?" Serena exclaimed.

            "I was undercover for a string of arson fires," Shawn explained.

            "Oh," Serena nodded. 

            "There's the office up ahead.  Once we get there, well get you inside and start warding the place," Dean said as he pulled the Impala into the parking lot near the Psych office.

            "Warding?" Serena asked.

            "They draw these symbols everywhere and it prevents demons from entering a building, or escaping.  The trunk of this car has a devil's trap painted on it," Shawn said, pointing behind them.

            "It's so they can't get anything out of our trunk," Sam said.

            "Or they can't get out of the trunk.  Remember when I had Crowley in there?" Dean added, turning to Sam.

            Sam chuckled, "Yeah, I remember his face when you opened the trunk."

            Shawn got curious, "Who's Crowley?"

            "The King of Hell," Sam said matter-of-factly.

            "Um, isn't that the Devil, or Lucifer?" Serena asked.

            "Actually, Lucifer is in a cage in the depths of Hell.  He's been in there a while.  Well, since we put him back there, right, Sammy?" Dean asked.

            "Yeah, Dean.  Believe me, I'm glad that's all over," Sam said, shaking his head.

            The brothers fell into a comfortable silence, which let Shawn think for a few moments about what he was going to tell Juliet.  She'd never believe the truth.  At least, he thought she wouldn't.  After all, he had a difficult time believing anything, until he saw it firsthand.

            Still 2005...

            Shawn had heard the whole story from these Winchester brothers.  How they were hunters, not the kind that kill deer, but the kind that kill demons, ghosts (could ghosts die?) werewolves, wendigoes and other creatures that go bump in the night.

            "You guys are serious?  You actually HUNT mythical creatures?" Shawn had asked as he sat in a chair that resided in the hotel room the brothers were using. 

            Dean nodded, "Yeah, I know it sounds beyond crazy.  Hell, I don't believe it myself sometimes.  But it's true.  All of it."

            Sam joined in, "It's kind of our family business.  Saving people, hunting things, it's a never-ending battle."

            "For truth, justice and the American way?" Shawn asked.

            Sam and Dean glanced at each other with amused expressions. 

            "Why are you hiding it?" Sam asked out of the blue.

            "Hiding what?" Shawn replied.

            "Your fear?  You've got to be freaking out by now," Sam answered. 

            "Stuff like this doesn't exactly scare me.  I'm still trying to figure out if you're crazy or you're both really good story tellers.  I'm hoping for the latter."

            Dean slowly shook his head, "Neither.  It's all real."

            The seriousness in Dean's voice made Shawn shiver; which made him a little more freaked out than he already was. 

            "Me thinks you'll have to prove it to me, Dean."

            The day that Shawn witnessed a true demon was a day he'd never forget, but now he was more worried about Juliet.  How was he going to tell her?