Notes: Written for fox1013's Gen Battle on LiveJournal, based on the prompt "chupacabra". It had to fit within the LJ comment character limit, and so it is very short. And random.

"All right," sighed Lassiter. "What inane nonsense have you cooked up to waste my time with today?"

"Inane nonsense? Please!" snorted Shawn. "First of all, I'm eighty-three percent certain that's redundant." Over his shoulder, Gus nodded in agreement. "Second, this is a significant scientific discovery, the solution to our latest case, and the answer to an ages-long mystery. You should both be grateful to be involved."

Lassiter did not look grateful. In fact, he looked unusually irritated, considering that he had only been here for the minute and a half it took to leave the road and follow Shawn and Gus into the long grass of a nearby field. Juliet was marginally more receptive, but already she had her arms folded and her head tilted, skeptical. "I don't remember you being assigned to our case, Shawn."

"No? Well, I don't remember that either. What I do remember – or should I say, what I have divined, psychically, because that is what I am, a psychic – is that you have been plagued with reports of livestock being murdered on farms all over the county, and you need my help figuring out why."

"Yes, but no," said Juliet pointedly. "It's worrisome that so many animals have been killed lately, but all reports indicate that it's the work of a mountain lion. That's the jurisdiction of animal control, not the police department."

"Perhaps you will want to involve the police department when you find out that the discovered animal corpses have all been ex- eh… exsomething."

"Exsanguinated," Gus supplied.

"Completely drained of blood, yes! And all through only the teeniest tiniest holes in their skin, which obviously points to –"

"Damn teenagers and their Satanic rituals again," Lassiter muttered, mostly to himself.

"Uh… no. Wait, again?" Distracted, Shawn shook his head. "Obviously, it points to the work of el chupacabra!" He pulled the long grass aside to display the body of an animal recently dead, but barely identifiable.

Lassiter and Juliet shared a long-suffering glance.

"That is not a chupacabra," Juliet said. "It's a dead dog, or a coyote, or... something. And it smells awful."

"Thank you," Gus cut in. "I've been trying to tell Shawn that the chupacabra doesn't look anything like this. Everyone knows it's a large black creature with glowing red eyes, scales, and a row of spines along its back."

Shawn elbowed Gus impatiently. "But this has fangs, and no fur!"

"Fine. It's a diseased, mangy dog with bad teeth," said Gus, elbowing Shawn in retaliation. "That makes it ugly, not supernatural."

Suddenly thoughtful, even while fending off the persistent Gus, Shawn said, "I always thought el chupacabra was supposed to be some kind of monster goat."

"Please, Shawn. The chupacabra typically eats goats. They make up the bulk of its diet. That's why the word 'chupacabra' means goat-sucker."

"I... am not going to ask you when you became an expert on goat-sucking, Gus, and I would appreciate if you never uttered that phrase in my hearing again." He stepped aside just in time to avoid another elbow to the ribs.

"If the two of you are quite finished," said Lassiter through clenched teeth. "This meeting has lived up to my low expectations, and now I'd like to go and do something that doesn't make me want to shoot things."

"But you always want to shoot things, Lassie!" Shawn called plaintively to his retreating back. "It's all that testosterone surging through your veins. You can't help it. I get that!"

Juliet raised an eyebrow at them before following Lassiter, half-smiling, half-exasperated. "Better luck next time," she told them.

"Aw, Jules! You're going to regret this when your goat gets tragically sucked to death."

"I don't have a goat, Shawn."

"You might! Someday." He and Gus were left alone there standing in the tall grass, listening to the car doors slamming shut and the engine starting. Shawn sighed. "On the other hand, she doesn't seem much like the goat-owning type."

Gus shook his head knowledgeably. "Not at all."

Shawn nodded toward the corpse that was busily decomposing in the grass. "You really think this is just a coyote?"

"Of course."

They paused.

"... El chupacabra is definitely our culprit, though."

"Oh, no doubt," Gus agreed.