This story is already completely written. I'm just doing the last round of edits before I post each chapter. I plan on updating every Friday.

A big thank you to Singingpurplerose for requesting a supernatural story. I never would have come up with such a great idea without you. Thank you also to Redwolffclaw for betaing the story for me.

This story takes place in season 3 right before Yang.

I drew a lot of inspiration from movies and TV shows. See if you can spot them all.

Enjoy.

Carlton Lassiter knew this day was going to end badly.

It was a feeling he'd had since waking up that morning, a sense that something was going to go wrong. He was the last one who would admit that 'psychic visions' or 'vibes' or any of that mumbo jumbo were real. He certainly didn't believe he was psychic. However, past experience had taught him that when he had this feeling, something usually went wrong.

He pulled up in front of Primatech Labs to see Spencer and Guster waiting for them. He turned the car off and took a deep breath, his normal irritation at seeing the fake psychic compounded by his steadily increasing uneasiness.

Of course if something was going to go wrong today, Spencer would be involved.

"Spencer better be right about this," Carlton muttered.

"He sounded very positive over the phone that this was our guy," O'Hara said, getting out of the car.

Carlton climbed out as well, slamming the door closed harder than necessary. "Then why didn't he 'sense' that Chambers was the killer when we brought him in for questioning two days ago?" Carlton asked.

"Maybe the spirits decided not to tell him at the time," O'Hara suggested with a shrug.

Carlton rolled his eyes. It worried him how much his partner believed in Spencer's psychic act.

"About time Lassie," Spencer said as they walked towards the entrance. "I thought maybe you got lost. We even had time to stop for smoothies before you got here." He held up the cup as evidence before taking a long sip.

"Spencer, I am not accountable to you for my whereabouts," Carlton said irritably.

"Well, someone's a Mr. Crankypants this morning. Did you not get enough coffee?" Spencer asked with a smirk.

"You want to know why I'm in a bad mood? I had to spend two hours convincing the last guy you accused of this murder not to sue the department for false arrest. So sorry if I don't have my usual sunny disposition," Carlton snapped.

Guster elbowed Spencer and he at least tried to look remorseful. "Sorry Lassie. My bad."

Carlton growled under his breath. "Let's get this over with." He turned and lead the way into the building.

He went straight up to the front desk and flashed his badge. "We need to speak with Dr. Matthew Chambers." He drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter as he waited for the receptionist to pull up the information. O'Hara gave him a look and he stopped, before glaring at Spencer when the man smirked at him.

"He's up in Lab A on the second floor," the woman said. She turned to Spencer and Guster. "I'm afraid food or drinks are not allowed past the lobby."

Carlton grinned as the two consultants sadly threw out their smoothies. Sometimes it was the little things in life that brought the most joy.

Lab A occupied half of the second floor. They had to wait for a security guard with a key card to let them in, then another five minutes before someone managed to track Chambers down. By then Carlton was hoping Chambers was guilty just so he could take out some of his frustration by arresting him.

"Detectives," Chambers said, looking at them in surprise. "What brings you here?"

"We'd like to ask you a few more questions regarding Lisa Spignelli's death," Carlton said.

"Gladly, but I'm afraid I already told you everything I know," Chambers said.

"Oh really?" Spencer asked. "You never mentioned you were sleeping with her."

Carlton studied Chambers. His eyes had widened slightly at Spencer's statement, his body becoming tense.

"Is this true?" O'Hara asked.

"Well, yes, but it doesn't have anything to do with why she was murdered," Chambers stammered. He crossed his arms, a classic defensive posture. It looked like Spencer might have the right guy this time.

"I think it does," Spencer said. Carlton sighed as Spencer began to pace, running his hands over the objects littering the tables around them. He settled on a glass stirring rod, waving it around as if to test it before starting his reveal. "You thought she was interested in you. Maybe even that she loved you, but she was just using you to get access to your research. That article she published last week was based on work you," he pointed the rod dramatically at Chambers, "have been doing for the past three years. You confronted her, things got heated." He dropped the rod and made a gasping sound, clutching his throat as if someone was choking him. He fell to his knees, still keeping up the act.

"Shawn," Guster said, nudging him with his foot.

Spencer stopped and jumped back to his feet, breathing a bit hard. "You strangled her, then dumped the body in the woods, hoping no one would find her."

Chambers licked his lips nervously. "I have an alibi."

"Yeah, about that. Did anyone check the security cameras in the lab?" Spencer asked.

"We didn't need to. We had the entry log," O'Hara said.

"Check the camera on the door against the entry log," Spencer said. "You'll find that Dr. Chambers' ID was scanned seconds before the lab tech's, Andrew Surtz. But I bet on the camera, you'll only see one person." Spencer smirked at the doctor. "And it's not Chambers."

Chambers looked frantically between Spencer and the two detectives. "This is ridiculous. I did not kill Lisa."

"Then you won't mind coming down to the station while we check on your alibi," Carlton said.

Chambers was starting to panic. "It wasn't right. She got credit for the work I slaved over," he mumbled. He looked up at the detectives with wide eyes. "I just got so angry. I didn't mean to do it." Before anyone could react he took off, running deeper into the lab.

Spencer immediately ran after him, Carlton right on his heels. He heard O'Hara join in the pursuit as well, darting off to the right in an attempt to cut Chambers off further down.

They followed Chambers through the lab, dodging other scientists and ducking around tables where various experiments were taking place. Carlton almost ran right into someone holding a beaker filled with a strange purple liquid. He quickly twisted to the side at the last moment, barely avoiding disaster. He was more cautious after that, having no desire to become familiar with any of the strange substances this lab was producing.

Spencer was just ahead of him, closing in quickly on Chambers. The scientist glanced behind him, looking panicked at the proximity of his pursuers. He grabbed a stool as he was running past and knocked it over behind him. Spencer was too close to avoid it entirely, though he did try. He stumbled to the side, directly in Carlton's path. The two collided with each other, their forward momentum sending them into one of the tables.

Carlton barely had time to put out a hand to brace himself. He fell hard against the table, broken beakers and test tubes slicing up his arms, but he managed to stay on his feet.

Spencer wasn't so lucky. He threw out an arm to catch himself but only managed to knock some of the equipment on the floor. He continued to fall, his head hitting the edge of the table before he landed on the pile of broken glass.

Carlton heard a scuffle ahead of them. Looking up, he saw O'Hara taking Chambers down. Good, at least they got the guy.

He carefully extracted his arms from the mess of broken glass on the table, trying not to knock any more on the man lying on the floor. Worried about the lack of movement from the normally energetic psychic, he crouched down next to Spencer. He was lying half on his side, one arm pinned awkwardly under him where he had tried to cushion his fall. He was breathing but the blow to the head seemed to have knocked him out.

Guster came running up behind them. He stopped short at the sight of his friend. "Shawn?" He looked at Carlton and started bombarding him with questions. "Is he OK? Is he breathing? What happened?"

"Call for an ambulance," Carlton snapped, cutting him off. Guster nodded shakily, pulling out his phone.

A groan pulled Carlton's attention back to the man in front of him. Spencer's eyes flickered open, glancing around before focusing on him. "Lassie? What happened? Why am I on the floor?" He tried to get up, but Carlton put out a hand to stop him.

"Careful. There's broken glass everywhere," he said, watching Spencer's face. The man looked confused at first, but then his eyes widened as the memories of what happened came back.

"Where's Chambers?" Spencer asked.

"O'Hara got him."

"That's my girl," Spencer said with a grin. Carefully, he levered himself up until he was sitting leaning against the table leg, broken glass falling off him to tinkle almost musically to the floor. His right arm and the right side of his chest were smeared with blood from dozens of cuts. Some were small and shallow but others were deeper and still bleeding sluggishly. The side of his head was also covered in blood from the gash from hitting the table.

Spencer looked Carlton over, his gaze lingering on his arms. "Are you OK?"

Carlton looked down. He had been focusing on Spencer and hadn't paid much attention to his own injuries. The sleeve on his right arm was shredded and soaked with blood. His left arm wasn't much better off. Now that he had noticed them, the numerous cuts were making themselves known.

"Fine," he said, gritting his teeth against the pain. "No thanks to you."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I didn't knock you into that table intentionally."

"Shawn?"

Spencer looked over Carlton's shoulder. "Hey buddy."

Carlton twisted to look behind him. Guster was looking anxiously at his friend, face pale at the sight of all the blood. "Are you OK?" he asked.

"Not to bad, though I sort of feel like Carrie at the prom right now," Spencer said, lifting on arm and watching the blood drip off it.

Guster gagged. "I'm going to go check on Juliet."

Spencer chuckled as he hurried off. "You think he would be used to a little blood by now."

"It's more than a little," Carlton remarked dryly. He stood up, then reached a hand down and slowly helped Spencer to his feet. He held him steady as Spencer wobbled, struggling to find his balance.

"Carlton? Shawn?"

O'Hara hurried over to them, worry etched into her features. "Backup and an ambulance are on the way. What happened?"

Spencer took a step away from Carlton, finally able to stand on his own two feet. "That table jumped out of nowhere Jules," he said, pointing to the offending piece of furniture.

It had been pretty well cleared of equipment. A trio of beakers and a lone test tube on the far corner had survived the carnage. The rest lay in pieces either on the table or the floor. Carlton noticed a purple substance spreading among the pile of glass. It looked liked the same substance he had narrowly avoided having spilled on him during the chase.

"Where's Chambers?" Carlton asked.

"I left him handcuffed to a table with two security guards watching over him," O'Hara said.

"Good." He tried to shake some of the glass off his clothes, hissing as the fabric brushed against his numerous cuts.

"Do you have any idea what was on that table?" O'Hara asked.

Carlton shook his head. "No idea."

"Then you both are going to need to go through decontamination showers," she said.

"I'm am not stripping in front of Spencer," Carlton said emphatically.

"Dude, trust me, I'm not in favor of it either," Spencer said, leaning back against the table. "But I don't want some chemical eating through my skin."

"I'll take my chances," Carlton said. He tried to cross his arms to appear more imposing but just ended up aggravating his injuries. He settled for a stubborn look inside.

"You don't have a choice," O'Hara said. "It's protocol if you're doused with an unknown substance."

"Fine," Carlton spat, hating that she was right.

"You know, Jules, I might need some help taking my clothes off since I'm injured," Spencer said suggestively.

"Then I'm sure one of the guys from Hazmat would be glad to help you," O'Hara replied sweetly.

Carlton smirked at Spencer's uncomfortable look. "On second thought, I'm sure I'll manage," the younger man said.

"I need to start clearing the area. Are you two going to be OK if I leave you here?" She looked at Spencer as she said it, gaze lingering on the bloody gash on his head. He was a little paler than normal and seemed to be using the table to help keep himself upright.

"We'll be fine Jules," Spencer said, giving her a reassuring smile.

She smiled back before quickly making her way through the lab.

Spencer sighed and started picking shards of glass off his clothes. "Dude, this blows."

It seemed Carlton's hunch, or instinct, or whatever was right again. Usually at odds with Spencer, this time he had to agree.

Today sucked.

"I'm going to kill you Spencer."

Shawn rolled his eyes. Lassiter had been threatening him since the moment they arrived at the hospital. He seemed to believe this whole thing was Shawn's fault. Yes, he had knocked the detective into the table, but only because Chambers had tripped him first. They both had to go through the decontamination process, so its not like Lassiter had suffered that indignity alone. If anything, he should be mad at Chambers, not him.

In fact, Lassiter had gotten off easy. Shawn was the one with cuts all over his chest and arms, along with the three inch gash on his head. Luckily, he had somehow avoided a concussion though he did have a pounding headache. Lassiter had some cuts too, but mostly just on his right forearm and not nearly as many or as deep.

Shawn tapped the railing on his bed, ignoring the glare Lassiter was giving him. Hospitals are boring places and he never could sit still for long. He hoped he could get out of here soon, before he lost his mind or his grumpy roommate tried to kill him.

Gus and Juliet walked in a few minutes later, each going to their respective partners.

"What, no pineapple?" Shawn asked.

"No, but I did bring you a change of clothes," Gus said, putting them on the end of Shawn's bed. "Do you know when you're getting out of here?"

"The doctor said something about test results," Shawn said. "There was a smoking hot nurse in here at the time checking on our bandages and I got a bit distracted."

Gus shook his head. "So what's the damage?"

"Thirty-two stitches total but no concussion," Shawn said. "Lassie only needed eleven stitches."

"I wouldn't have needed any if you had watched where you were going," Lassiter snapped.

"Like you could have avoided that stool any better," Shawn said.

"I'm a cop. My reflexes are faster than yours," Lassiter said.

Shawn grabbed the tissue box next to him and chucked it at Lassiter. It bounced off the detective's chest before he had time to react. "Yeah, some reflexes," he scoffed.

Lassiter struggled to get out of bed, growling as his IV got tangled. Juliet pushed him back down. "Enough you two."

Lassiter subsided but glared at Shawn across the room. "When I get out of here, you're a dead man Spencer."

"I really don't think you should say that in front of a cop," Shawn said in a stage whisper, pointing at Juliet.

"Shawn! Knock it off," Juliet snapped irritably. "Can't you guys get along for five minutes?"

"Probably not," Shawn admitted.

A brief knock on the door heralded the arrival of Chief Vick. Shawn sat up straighter in the bed, trying to look presentable. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Lassiter doing the same.

Vick stopped in the center of the room and looked at the two injured parties. "Would someone like to explain to me what happened?" she asked in her 'calm' voice. Shawn winced. She only used that voice when she was really mad.

"Spencer had a 'vision' that Chambers was responsible for Ms. Spignelli's death. When we confronted Chambers about it, he ran. While pursuing the suspect, Spencer got in the way and knocked us both into the table," Lassiter said, glaring at Shawn.

"I tripped," Shawn protested. "And you practically shoved me to the floor."

"You shouldn't have been chasing him in the first place," Lassiter said. "You. Are. Not. A. Cop."

"I was the one who almost caught him."

"Until you threw me into the table."

"I tripped."

"Enough," Vick snapped. "Mr. Spencer, you should not have been pursuing the suspect. Detective Lassiter is right. That is a job for the police." Lassiter smirked as Shawn shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

"However, detective," she said, turning on Lassiter now, "Mr. Spencer is your responsibility while on scene. If he is behaving in a manner unfitting a police consultant, it is your duty to handle it. You are also responsible for the safety of all civilians on scene, including Spencer. That makes you equally to blame for what happened."

"I understand," Lassiter said, looking like he had just swallowed a lemon.

"Good." Lecture done, she looked over the two of them with concern. "Have the test results come back yet?" she asked.

"Still waiting," Juliet said.

"I'll go see if I can speed things along," Vick said.

The minute she left the room, Shawn broke into a wide grin. "Man, Lassie, you got into trou-ble," he teased.

"Can it Spencer," Lassiter snapped. "The Chief yelled at you too, remember?"

"Vick's always yelling at me about something. It's just how our relationship works," Shawn said.

"Whatever," Lassiter muttered.

"Dude, lay off him," Gus said quietly.

"Why?" Shawn asked. "It's so much fun and it's not like there's a lot to do in here."

"Because he's going to get out of here soon and he carries a gun," Gus reminded him.

Shawn winced. "Good point. I'll try to cut back on the jokes."

Their doctor entered the room, followed by the Chief. He looked at the group crowding around the patients. "It seems like you two are quite popular," he said.

"What did the tests say?" Lassiter asked impatiently.

"Both your sets of tests came back normal. However, since we don't know what chemicals were being used at that lab, I'd like to keep both of you overnight for observation."

"No way," Shawn said immediately.

"For once, I agree with Spencer," Lassiter said.

"In that case, I would recommend someone stay with you for the next 24 hours just to be safe. If anything seems unusual, come back to us immediately," the doctor said, making eye contact with each man. When they both nodded he said, "I'll go get your discharge papers."

"Thank you doctor," Vick said. She turned to the two men on the beds as the doctor left the room. "Both of you are taking the rest of the week off. O'Hara, take tomorrow off as well and keep an eye on your partner. Mr. Guster, I suggest you do the same with Mr. Spencer."

"But Chief – " Lassiter protested.

"That's an order detective. You are not to step foot in the station until Monday morning. Do I make myself clear?" Vick asked.

"Yes ma'am," Lassiter said reluctantly.

"Then I will see you both on Monday." She turned on her heel and left the room.

A nurse returned with the paperwork and unhooked the IVs. While not as hot as the nurse earlier, she was still very attractive. Unfortunately, she seemed to have a thing for irritable, recently divorced detectives. Lassiter turned bright red as she reached across him to unhook the IV, practically thrusting her chest into his face. Shawn shared a smirk with Gus over the detective's discomfort. Even Juliet had to hide a smile.

Once the nurse left, Shawn picked up the pile of clothes Gus had brought him. "Do you want to change first or should I? Or we can both change out here. I've already seen what your hiding," he said, batting his eyelashes at Lassiter.

"Shawn," Gus hissed.

"I said I'd try," Shawn hissed back.

"I'll go first," Lassiter said, gathering up the clothes Juliet had brought him. "I don't need to risk going blind a second time today."

"That really hurt my feelings," Shawn called after him. He grinned as he looked at Gus. "Sometimes it's just too easy."

"It's your funeral," Gus said.

Juliet sighed as she gathered up Lassiter's paperwork. "You really should be nicer to Carlton. He isn't having the best day."

"Neither am I, Jules," Shawn pointed out.

"That's no excuse," she said, though her gaze did soften slightly. "Tell Carlton I'll be waiting outside. Feel better Shawn." She grabbed her purse and walked out of the room, glancing back once in the doorway as she left.

"She's totally into me," Shawn said.

"No way. She's way too good for you," Gus said.

"First, I am totally good enough for her. In fact, she might not be good enough for me but I can live with that. Second, she is so into me, I can sense these things," Shawn said, raising his hand to his head.

"You're not a real psychic," Gus said.

"That doesn't mean I'm wrong," Shawn said.

"It doesn't mean you're right," Gus said.

"But I am, you'll see," Shawn said. Juliet had been softening towards him recently, especially after that case with the football players. It might finally be time to ask her out and see what happened.

Once Lassiter was finished dressing, Shawn took his turn. He carefully eased his shirt over the bandages, silently thanking Gus for grabbing a button up shirt instead of a t-shirt. The later would have been nearly impossible to get on right now.

Lassiter and Juliet had left by the time he was done. He collected Gus and the two of them headed for the exit. "I'm starving," Shawn said, dropping off his discharge papers at the nurse's station. "Jerk chicken?"

"You know that's right," Gus said.

As they walked through the parking lot, Shawn felt the world spin for one sickening moment. He stumbled and almost fell on his face, barely managing to catch himself on a nearby car.

"Are you OK?" Gus asked.

"Yeah," Shawn gasped, fighting down a sudden surge of nausea. He pushed away from the car, a little unsteady, but at least the ground was staying level now. "Maybe we should skip dinner and just go back to my apartment."

Gus looked even more worried at Shawn passing up food. "We should go back inside. The doctor said to let him know if anything unusual happened."

"I hit my head Gus. I'm bound to be a little dizzy," Shawn said.

"Shawn," Gus said uncertainly.

"Seriously, dude, I'm fine." Shawn started walking again towards the car. "Let's go." After a few steps he heard Gus following, muttering under his breath about stubborn friends who can't seem to stay away from trouble. He grinned, knowing he had won this argument.

Gus is a worry-wart, he thought as they pulled away from the hospital. It's just a headache. It's not a side-effect of anything besides smacking my head.

I'll wake up tomorrow and everything will be fine.