A/N: I know this chapter is short, but it's sort of a tester chapter as this story jumps right out of my comfort zone. So review tell me what you think! Also, just throwing this out there, this story has established Shules-cuz that's just how I roll

Chapter One

The day had already started out horrible. His alarm clock had somehow set itself for five in the morning. Shawn was fairly sure that he had beaten the rooster in waking up this morning. The coffee was too bitter and strong since he had ran out of sugar and milk at the same time. Then when he went out to start his Norton, it decided that it didn't want to run today. Which had forced him to walk to the Psych office.

Which is exactly where Shawn was currently standing. Staring into the window of the building that housed his fake psychic detective agency. Gus sat at his desk, a mug of coffee in his hand as he swiveled around reading a sheet of paper in his other hand. Shawn's eyes trailed down to his watch, and shook his head. Walking swiftly, any energy that the bitter, black coffee had given him had run it's course in the seven mile walk to the office, into the building.

"Really, dude. It's not even seven!"

Gus screeched, the paper dropping from his hand as the coffee spilled on his purple dress shirt. Shawn chuckled, as he settled down into his own chair.

"Shawn!"

A smirk on his lips, as his hands held up his head when his feet landed on top of the desk. "Yeah, can I help ya buddy?" His eyebrow quirked questioningly.

"You're lucky that I have a couple extra shirts here!"

"Am I now?" Shawn asked, as his feet dropped to the floor. God, he was exhausted. Shawn managed what he hoped was a sly look. "Cause for some reason, I don't think there was threat in there. I'm not one that gets frightened easily."

Gus glared at Shawn as he hastily undid the buttons of his shirt, and peeled the sodden shirt from his body. Glaring at the inflamed flesh of his chest, Gus tossed one of his favorite dress shirts into the hamper. Walking stead-fast toward the closet, Gus yanked the door open and pulled down a light blue dress shirt. Working quickly on the buttons, Gus had his new shirt on and was making his way back toward his desk.

"Gus, be a buddy and grab me the pineapple slices from the fridge." Shawn barely glanced up from what Gus had to assume was either Tetris or Ms. Pac-Man.

"Get it your damn self, Shawn. I have to finish reading over these reports before work."

Shawn sighed. "Dude, my alarm clock has a vendetta against me. It set itself for five this morning. That is just—inhumane! I actually heard the rooster crow when I woke up-"

Gus's head whipped toward Shawn. His mouth bobbed open to speak when Shawn held up a hand to stop him when the cordless phone started to ring.

"Psych, home of the one and only psychic detective Shawn Spencer, how may I help you?"

Shawn smiled brightly, "Well Detective O'Hara, what a dirty mind you have." His eyebrow quirked slightly. "Oh wait, you mean crime scene. Gotcha! We'll be there lickity-split!"

Shawn pressed the phone against his desk. "No, Shawn! I have to do my route today."

Shawn pouted out his lip, "Dude. I had to walk here today! My bike won't start. Are you really going to make me walk all the way to the crime scene?"

Gus sighed. "Fine, let's go."

"That's my Gussy-poo!" Shawn clapped Gus on his shoulder as they made their way out of the office.

Juliet's eyes grazed the horizon for a moment, waiting to see a familiar blue Echo pull up. Fifteen minutes was surely long enough to make it from the Psych office to the crime scene no more than five blocks away. Sighing, she turned her attention back to the job at hand.

"So, do we know who he is?" Juliet asked. She had only been on the scene for twenty minutes herself. Carlton had beaten her by a full ten minutes, and how he loved to brag about that too.

"His name is Antonio Salvoto. He's a New York native. I have Dobson running his name to see if we get any hits."

Juliet shook her head, her hand against her lips as she concentrated at the scene in front of her. Antonio had died from a single gun-shot wound to the face. Not the head, but the face. The bullet had entered on the left-hand side no more than two inches in front of his ear. It had splintered his jaw bone. However, from what she could tell from her current angle, the injury hadn't been immediately life-threatening. Which meant he had to have been laying there for a few hours before dying of blood loss.

"Jules, my lovely!"

Juliet tried to hide the fact that she had practically jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. No matter how much she loved it, or how much it sent undeniable shivers up and down her spine, he always had a way of sneaking up on her and scaring the crap out of her.

"Shawn! You scared me." Juliet swatted at Shawn's arm as it snaked around her waist.

"I am sorry." His smile told a different story, however. "So what do we-" Shawn froze as he knelt down in front of the body. Juliet blinked her eyes for a moment before realizing that Shawn was visibly shaken by the bloodied body laying in front of him.

"Shawn, do you know him?"

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Shawn glanced up at Juliet. "Antonio Salvoto-"

"Spencer, how do you know a drug dealer from New York?" Carlton snapped, as he walked up behind the shaken psychic.

"I lived in Soho for like four months. Antonio lived in my apartment building, helped me get a job-" Shawn paused, clearly unaware of the look of confusion on both detective's faces. "Why is he in Santa Barbara?"

Carlton coughed awkwardly into his hand. "I think it has something to do with you, Spencer."

Shawn glanced up at the note that Carlton was holding, and swallowed thickly. 'One down, one to go. You're next, Spencer'

"Well damn." Shawn whispered.