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.