Santa Barbara, 1989
„Shawn!"shouted angry voice of Henry Spencer as soon as he walked through the door. He waited for a moment, but nothing happened. „Shawn, get down here. Now!"
It didn't take long before he saw his son slowly walking from the stairs. „What, Dad?" he asked as sheepishly as he could.
„Don't give me that. You know damn well what, kid. And don't even let me start with that!" Henry said pointing to the door. On the ground there was line of salt.
„That is necessary. But it's useless now."
With that Henry raised his eyebrows. 'That oughta be good' he thought.
„Oh, really? How so?"
„You broke the line." Shawn said with serious face.
Henry let out a exasperated gasp. „No, I meant why is it necessary?"
„Well that's obvious."
„Is it?"
„It's to keep the ghosts away."
„Ghosts?" Henry asked with completely stoic face, but in his mind he was chuckling.
„Yes."
„So Ghosts. You're going with that to cover that mess you made in our neighbour's house?"
„Well it was them. And he's our neighbour, the ghosts could go into our house next."
„And that salt?"
„Gus said they can't cross it. With an undamaged line, they can't go in. I'm keeping us safe, Dad."
„Oh really.." Henry trailed off as he walked to the back door. He then walked from room to room and returned back.
„So Shawn. If I leave out he fact, that ghosts doesn't exist.."
„But.."Shawn interrupted, but shut his mouth when he saw his father's gaze.
„Let me finish. There are other problems. If there really were ghosts and there were for whatever reason terrified of salt and there would want to harm you, you'd be finished. You sealed off the front door, but you were absolutely oblivious to the fact that we have a back door, not to mention numerous windows. So you secured the front not caring about the back. While you would stare on the front door, Casper the homicidal ghost would come in from the back and you'd be dead. Rookie mistake kid."
„Damn.." Shawn sighed.
„No swearing, Shawn. Little advice, next time when you come up with some ridiculous cover story, make sure all facts check. Now, you mind telling me what the hell were you doing in Mr. Peterson's house?"
Also Santa Barbara, 2009
Shawn Spencer was watching his target, when his phone rang. He answered not taking his eyes from what he was watching.
„Where are you, Shawn?" Gus asked.
„Where would I be?"
„That's what I'm asking. In five minutes will begin The Mentalist marathon and we always watch that at my place."
„Don't worry, my sweet chocolate pumpkin, I'll be there."
„In five minutes?" Gus asked again, getting suspicious.
„Sure."
There was long silence before Shawn decided to correct himself. „Okay, maybe I'll be little late."
Now Gus narrowed his eyes. Something wasn't right. Shawn would never miss this.
„Shawn, where are you?"
„On the way." Shawn answered vaguely.
„Why don't you wanna tell me?"
„Why do you keep asking?" Shawn couldn't stop his annoyed answer. He knew it wasn't fair to his best friend. But he had to do this alone. Everything depended on it.
„Shawn, what's going on? You didn't take case without consulting me, did you?"
„Gus, don't be flip-flops in Siberia. Of course not." Gus sighed with relief. But his joy was shortlived, when he heard the next sentence. „No one hired me, technically."
„What do you mean, technically?"
„What I said. Listen, sorry buddy, but I'll explain later. I'll.." Shawn froze mid-sentence as he felt cold metal against his neck followed by unmistakable sound of cocking gun.
„Shawn? Are you there?" Gus asked nervously as he was hoping he didn't hear what he thought he was hearing. But the silence was eloquent. That was definitely a gun. He didn't waste any more time and called detective Lassiter.
„Damn it, Spencer." Carlton Lassiter cursed as he stared at the too familiar iphone and key chain, both now in evidence bags. „What did you get yourself into now?" he whispered as he turned around. When he saw figure of Henry Spencer angrily marching towards him, he silently cursed. He really didn't need to deal with another Spencer, when he had to find the irritating psychic wannabe once again.
Of course older Spencer demanded informations, of course there was no chance that he wouldn't be part of this investigation. All that was clear to him. And as he was sure of that, he was damn sure that they would find him. They always did. Why would this time be any different?
Still Santa Barbara, 2010
Santa Barbara Police Department was quiet. Place was swarming with people, cops and suspects alike, but it was so damn quiet. No crazy theatrics, no smoothies or obscure movie references that no one even heard about. No glue, no peanut butter, no snow balls. And no 'Lassie'. He didn't understand it. Spencer was annoying him to his core, but he missed it. All of it. And he was beginning to think that it may never come back. The last promising lead was six month ago. But it was a dead end. All hope was beginning to fade. It was so frustrating. He wished it was some sick joke, that he just ran away, as he used to do before he started this psychic detective nonsense. But he knew that there was no chance that was the case.
„Damn it!" he shouted as he kicked to his table. It was painful but he didn't care. He glanced at his partner, who looked at him understandingly. He looked her into her eyes and saw the pain. Then he just sighed and walked out of the station. He needed a fresh air for a moment. He hated the way Juliet O'Hara looked these days. Like an empty shell filled with nothing but pain. When he'll find Spencer, he's gonna kill him for making his partner suffer. And he will find him. He just will.
Little more confident and calm, Lassiter walked to the station again and sat down to his desk. Someone approached and he looked up to see Spencer senior.
„Anything new?" he asked with desperation in his eyes. Lassiter's sigh was all he needed
„What exactly are you doing to find my son?!" he yelled.
„You know damn well we're doing what we can, but.."
„Like hell! If that was true you would've already found him! Or something, anything to tell us what happened. But we're in the same spot we were in 09'. So don't give me 'we're doing what can' bullshit!"
„But there are just no leads at the time.." Lassiter calmly said, but he was interrupted, again.
„So you're just gonna give up on him?!" Henry stretching his hands to catch Lassiter by his shirt, but stopped when the mug on the table suddenly shattered into dozens pieces.
Shawn Spencer was leaning against the pillar with angry posture. Everyone was ignoring him. As they couldn't see him. He hated this dream. And he was even angrier when he saw his father and Lassie fighting. Just because they couldn't see him. Suddenly a mug on Lassiter's desk shattered. Shawn face widened with huge grin.
Ha! I totally Ghost-ed that mug! I became Patrick Swayze!
„Mr. Spencer." said Juliet with slight smile as she was approaching them.
And there is Demi Moore. I love this dream.
„Juliet." said Henry, visibly more calm once he saw the female detective.
Wait. Where's my Whoopi Goldberg?
„Have you heard from Gus? I tried to reach him." Juliet inquired as though she could hear him.
„No, sorry. But I called to his office and it seems that he's taking insane workload on him. Like he wants to bury himself in the papers."
„It must be very hard on him."
„Yeah.." it's all Henry said. He already forgot about his outburst, sinking again into depression and hopelesness.
„We'll find him."
„I know. I'm sorry. It's not your fault. Call me if you find anything." he said and just walked away, Lassiter with Juliet sympathetically gazing after him.
Only thing Shawn could think about was.. No Whoopi Goldberg? I hate this dream.
Guess where, 2014
Shawn was bored. Last week it was fun with that little commotion in the interrogation room. He couldn't help but chuckle when ex-con, which attacked his father, was being transported with severe injuries to the hospital. Karma's a bitch, he thought.
So yeah, last week was good. But now it's just insufferable. He begged for something to happen, because apparently he couldn't leave the station and to the top of that, no one paid any attention to him. This dream sucked.
„Agent Greer, this is agent Walsh, FBI." Shawn was becoming oblivious to his surroundings, earlier nothing was going on, but this caught his attention. Young FBI agents started to talk with Lassie, but he didn't pay much attention to that. He observed agents for a while, then he chuckled. FBI agents my ass. He was angry that he couldn't let Lassie know that these two were imposters.
„..Spencer?" asked the taller agent, which caught Shawn's attention again.
„He has an alibi. And I don't really have to share anything with you. I'm just telling you so you'll leave him alone." Shawn smiled. Lassie was becoming irritated. That was dangerous for those two.
„If you want to talk with our superior.." the smaller one smirked as he pulled out a business card.
„I don't give a shit about your superior. You know what, why don't you go talk to my superior. I have work to do." Lassie barked and was turning to leave, when the taller one asked:
„Does he have any relatives?"
„His ex-wife is god knows where. He doesn't have siblings. And his only son is presumed dead. Look elsewhere."
Shawn's eyes widened. I'm what now? Anger was boiling inside him. Even if this was stupid dream, how could they think he's dead? And what about those imposters asking about his family?
Lassiter was pissed. He respected the Bureau, but he almost immediately hated those two arrogant.. His train of thought was interrupted when he felt sudden shiver in his back and saw lights flicker. And in the next second he thought he gone insane.
„'m not dead!" echoed so familiar voice.
And in the next he knew he did. He could swear he saw Shawn Spencer appear in front of him, the same clothes he had when he last saw him. He saw anger in his eyes as he was pointing at the two FBI agents. „Ink.. bad ink masking to be good.. and paper..oh bad paper.. and that hair.. oh, Lassie, it's all bad!"
Lassiter for a moment forgot that Shawn Spencer couldn't be here, but in his defence it was so easy, when everyone seemed to see the same thing.
„What the hell are you talking about Spencer?"
Dean Winchester exchanged glances with his brother. It seemed they found their vengeful spirit. But right now they couldn't do anything, thanks to this theatrics they were literally surrounded by cops. Any sudden movement even from 'FBI' could be fatal mistake.
Meantime, the ghost was shooting them angry look. Then he closed his eyes and put finger to his temple. „The badge! Check the badge! It's all fake.. mainly the hair." and with that, Shawn Spencer disappeared.