Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. Or Twilight. Or anything else mentioned in this chapter that doesn't belong to me. How's that for straightforward?

Full Summary: A new case has found its way to the SBPD. There's a murderer at large in Santa Barba - and all signs point towards our favorite psychic detective as the culprit. As the evidence piles against him, even Shawn can't help but be convinced by it. There's just one tiny detail missing - Shawn has no memory of killing those people.

This is my first attempt at writing a Psych fanfiction, and I plan on making it a successful one. The idea just popped into my head one day - well, actually the title did, and then I worked on it from there :)

Did anybody else feel the need to squeal at the priceless look on Lassiter's face when he caught Shawn and Juliet in the interrogation room? Speaking of that, I guess I should probably tell you that this story takes place during the third season, after Juliet and Shawn have begun their relationship, but before it is revealed to Lassie.

Yup, that's pretty much it for now… Review?

Psych Quote of the Day: "Please. I haven't snuck into your apartment for weeks. Which reminds me, we're all out of peanut butter." ~ Shawn

-O-

Chapter 1

Of Pineapples and Twihards

"Gus, for the last time, I did not put that pineapple in your shoe!" Shawn Spencer, resident psychic detective for the Santa Barbara Police Department, was already telling lies as he ascended the steps of the building with his best friend and partner in crime, Burton Guster.

Gus glared at him. "Really? Who did, then? And don't say Lucky the Leprechaun."

Shawn sighed, coming to a stop on the top step. "I can't be sure, but it looked like one of those vampires from that movie, Midnight."

"You mean Twilight, Shawn?" Gus continued through the front doors of the station, not bothering to hold it for Shawn.

"Gus, you never told me you were a Twinerd!" Shawn said, loudly enough to turn several heads and induce a heated glare from Head Detective Lassiter.

"The term is Twihard, Shawn. And no, Shawn, you haven't heard it both ways."

"Jeez, Gus, don't go all Lindsey Lohan on me," Gus gave him a blank look, and Shawn continued. "You know, when she starred in the Parent Trap, and kept repeating her dad's name?" He considered this, and then added "well, not his real name, obviously, but-"

"Really, Shawn?" They'd arrived among the hustle and bustle of the main floor of the station. Gus stopped again, trying to calm his nerves as he addressed his partner. "You had to make that reference?"

"Of course I did, buddy ol' pal," the friendly pat on the back that came with those words was enough to make Gus wince. "You know as well as I do that the Parent Trap was a classic 80's movie."

"Shawn, the Parent Trap was released in 1998."

Shawn frowned. "Wow, it's scary that you would actually know that," he noticed Chief Karen Vick heading in their direction, a worried frown stretching across her face. He smiled immediately. "Ah, Chief Vick! Karen! How good to see you again, looking as dapper as ever!"

Gus glared at his partner, rolling his eyes at the unwanted, unruly antics. "You said you wanted to see us?"

"That I did. Gentlemen, my office, please."

Gus exchanged an uneasy glance with Shawn. If Chief Vick hadn't even been bothered by the fact that Shawn had used her first name, then something must really be wrong. Shawn shrugged, made a "I don't know" face, and the two followed the chief into her office.

The blinds snapped shut so loudly and so abruptly that Gus jumped. Embarrassed, he covered it with a cough that only made Shawn look disbelievingly at him. Reluctantly, Gus lowered his arm…

And jumped again as it met with another arm that had not been there two seconds ago. He looked up into the disapproving face of Lassiter.

"Is something the matter, Guster?" he asked calmly.

Gus opened his mouth to respond, but Shawn cut in. "He was just shocked by your complete and utter refusal to fix that pile of black stuff on your scalp that you call 'hair'."

Lassiter's retort was cut short by the door slamming again as Juliet O'Hara walked in. It was suddenly beginning to feel very crowded in Vick's small office. Gus shifted uncomfortably.

"Good, now that you're all here, let's get down to business," the chief stood in front of her computer desk, one hand braced on the solid oak wood, the other resting on a neat manila folder that no doubt held the contents of their next case – their next pay day, as Gus liked to think of it.

She flipped open the folder to reveal several sheets of paper with printing so small that Gus couldn't make out what it said from where he stood. Shawn, however, could, from the way he stood with his head slightly tilted and his eyes squinted as he started intently ahead. There were also two photographs paper-clipped to the side. The first showed the close-up of a teenage boy – he couldn't have been more than seventeen. At first glance, he looked to be asleep, his eyes closed and his black mop of hair flopped unevenly on one side. But then Gus noticed the pallor color of his skin. He was dead, all right, and the ugly purple bruises flowering around his neck only further proved the case.

The second was of an older female, probably somewhere in her mid-thirties by the look of it, and she was also deathly pallor. However, there was nothing on her, at least that the photograph showed, that indicated cause of death. Her mouse brown hair was slightly mussed, but no one had ever died of bed head.

"Our two victims are Mark and Tanya Cole. Mark and Tanya were both killed in a home invasion yesterday. We have yet to receive results as to the cause of death, but it is likely to assume from both the strangulation marks around Mark's neck and the knife wound in Tanya's chest that they were strangled, and stabbed to death."

"Yikes. This is just like that show-"

"Was anything stolen?" Lassiter interrupted, not even bothering to glare at the psychic.

"As far as we can tell, no. The only other member of the household – Mark's father and Tanya's wife, Jim Cole – claims that he was at the gym during the time of the invasion," she looked up. "Carlton, I need you to verify Mr. Cole's alibi. Spencer, I need you to accompany O'Hara to the crime scene, see if you can pick up any… psychic waves that will help us in this case."

"Sweet!" Shawn clapped his hand together in anticipation. He seemed excited about the crime scene, but Gus knew he was just as happy to be provided with some alone time with Juliet. "You hear that, Jules? A whole afternoon away from Lassie-face!" Yep, definitely alone time. Well, aside from Gus being there.

"Just one more thing, Mr. Spencer," Chief Vick's voice stopped Shawn at the doorway. "You find anything, you report back to Detective Lassiter. Got it?"

"But-"

"Henry's orders."

Shawn sighed. There was no point in crossing his dad, especially when what he said wouldn't make a difference anyways. It never did.

-O-

The crime scene that was the house came into view not until they were right on top of it. It was hidden by so much foliage that you'd never even guess there was a house there if you came upon it from the wrong angle. Or the right angle, depending on how you looked at it.

Gus had opted to drive the blueberry by himself, letting Shawn ride alone with Juliet in her car. They pulled into the short driveway to find that they had the place to themselves. All of the other officers were no doubt following other leads.

The house was eerily quiet, Gus noticed as he followed Shawn and Juliet through the many hallways. Shawn was already in "psychic" mode, rapidly and thoroughly scanning every inch of everything they passed by, eyes squinted and head tilted in his classic pose.

They found their crime scene in the kitchen. At least, it sure looked like a crime scene. The place itself was a mess, broken dishes and food scattered everywhere. Dried blood was splattered all over the floor, and some had managed to find its way onto the sides of the cabinets. Gus gagged involuntarily, deciding that he was fine standing right where he was.

He watched as Juliet snapped on some rubber gloves. What for, Gus didn't know. The evidence must have been collected earlier, when the crime had first been reported. Shawn was treading carefully through the scatterings of the dish remains, still locked in his pose.

And then he froze. His gaze was locked onto something, but Gus couldn't tell what it was. Shawn knelt down and picked something out of a crevice in one of the cabinets. A piece of a shirt. It was splattered with blood, but there was no doubt about the very familiar pattern – a piece of a blue plaid shirt. A piece of Shawn's blue plaid shirt.

Gus's mind reeled, trying to process the information even as Shawn shoved the fabric into the pocket of his windbreaker and stood up. He was clearly disturbed by its presence. That had to mean he hadn't put it there, right? Because to have put it there, he would have had to have been there, and there was no one else home when the murders took place, except for the killer.

"Gus, get over here!" Shawn's voice broke through Gus's shock. No, of course Shawn hadn't been here. Duh. What was he thinking? He walked to his friend's side, trying not to look at the blood on the floor.

As it turns out, that's exactly what Shawn wanted him to look at.

"Gus, do you see that splatter of blood there?" he pointed directly in front of them.

"Shawn, there's blood all over this floor. That little speck's not gonna make a difference." No way was he looking down.

"If the body was…" he looked over at Gus. "Gus, lie down and pretend to be dead."

"What?"

"I need to get a clear picture of the scene in my mind!"

"No, Shawn! I am not going to lay on the bloody floor just so you can analyze some tiny speck of blood that's not even close to where the body was found!"

"See, that's exactly my point, Gus!" Shawn knelt down. "This blood is too far away to have come from the victim when she was stabbed."

Gus looked at him blankly.

"Oh, come one, Gus, really? How did you not get that? This isn't the victim's blood!" Shawn was whisper-shouting in his excitement. Oh. Gus understood now.

Shawn turned excitedly to Juliet. "I'm getting something!" he nearly forgot to put his hand to his head in the classic "psychic" gesture.

"Really? What?" She walked over.

"I'm sensing… our murder was hurt. Yes, hurt," Shawn clutched his own arm for emphasis. "Ow, it burns! Oh, the pain it burns!" He fell to his knees, faced scrunched in mock pain. Suddenly his expression cleared. "The murderer cut himself with his own weapon. Yes, I can see it now. He's running, running away from the crime scene. He's clutching his arm, trying to stop the bleeding," Shawn squeezed his eyes shut, feeling around on the floor. "But it dropped, it dropped!" Gus nudged Shawn with his foot, steering him the direction of the blood drops.

Shawn opened his eyes, gasping for breath. "Here!" He pointed to the red stain on the tile floor. "Here is where you will find the blood of our murderer."

Juliet gave Shawn a puzzled look that quickly turned to one of understanding as she realized exactly what Shawn had explained to Gus a few moments earlier. She took out a plastic bag and a swab, and quickly scraped the blood off of the floor.

She pocketed the evidence just as her cell phone rang.

"O'Hara," was her brusque answer.

She listened for a moment to a voice that neither Shawn nor Gus could hear. Her face paled visibly, causing Gus to exchange a worried look with his partner.

"A-are you sure about this?" she stuttered, her voice tiny. A pause. "But-" She was cut off by the person on the other end of the line. "Yes, I understand."

She hung up, and turned to face Shawn, shock screaming from her expression. Her voice shook as she uttered the words, "Shawn Spencer, you are under arrest for the murders of Mark and Tanya Cole."

-O-

Bet you didn't see that coming! Actually, I bet you did, because the summary basically told you it was.

Reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated.