A/N: Warning: Long chapter ahead.

Shawn arrived at the factory and paid the taxi fare. Approaching the doors he was surprised to see Gus gripping a trash can as though his life depended on it. "Yo Gus, what are you-" he was cut off as his friend barfed into the garbage. "Okay then, I guess I'll be seeing the blood spatter analyst today. I wonder how he's been doing, maybe we should hang out after the case-" Gus wretched again. "Seriously, man, it can't be that bad." Gus didn't reply, rather he gave him he "are you freaking kidding me right now?" stare. Shawn shrugged and went inside.

He took his jest back immediately. The room was littered with bodies that had been torn open in one way or another. Some were factory workers, but others didn't seem to belong there. The eldest person there was about eighty, the youngest a girl of twelve. He had been right about the blood spatter analyst; in fact there were five, but they seemed clueless. The range of mortal injuries was overwhelming; some had been killed with a single stab wound, other's had their eyes burned out. Some of them, though, had been ripped apart. If that wasn't weird enough, some of the bodies also sported injuries that should have killed them instantly, like a bullet in the head. They instead were found to have been killed by something else. In fact, these wounds appeared to be years old.

What the hell... This must have been what his dad had meant. All of the mortal wounds could be explained with just a bit of proof, but the other wounds... this was going to be hell.

"Shawn, there you are" Julie half ran towards him, taking care to walk around a victim in her way.

"Hey, Jules" greeted Shawn.

"This is the worst case I've ever been put on, for both body count and strangeness." she went on, "We've got a body count of thirty-two, and at least half of them are... wait why am I telling you all of this?"

"Because I'm just too cute for your mind to work properly, right?" He grinned.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'll let Vick know your here." She started walking away as Shawn looked around.

"Hey, where's Lassie?"

She turned back, her expression slightly grim. "Vick wouldn't let him on the case. A friend of his went missing a few months ago and..." she gestured toward a body in the corner "he turned up. Vick says he's too close to this case."

Shawn nodded, frowning slightly. It would have really lifted things up a little if he could torment his favourite detective a bit.

He started taking a better look at the bodies, observing through all five senses. He took a deep breath... only to choke on the smell of sulphur. How did he not notice that before? From where he was standing he could see that all of the stab wounds had been burned in some manner, though not as much as the burned-out eye sockets and - from the report he saw over someone's shoulder - the liquefied brains.

"Spencer," Vick's voice made him jump, "glad to see you."

Shawn smiled and nodded, and then cringed, putting a hand to his forehead as he feigned a painful vision. Vick's face paled; no matter how many times she had seen this it always scared her a little.

"ugggghh...muuugghhhh...they're screaming...gahh... they're all screaming..." he shook his head as if to dispell the vision. This would buy him time to investigate.

"I imagine the victims were screaming. Is that who you mean?"

"No, it was the spirits. After all of this... I might need a minute."

"Take the time you need. We're not going any faster. Some are saying that what did this was... supernatural," She dismissed it with a roll of her eyes, "but I'm sure there's some explanation." She said as she left to review another report.

Supernatural, huh? He thought as he looked around for security cameras. They've been reading too many of those books. In the past year the book series Supernatural had become popular in the police department. Lassie would never admit it to anyone, but when Shawn was at his place for a case he noticed one of them crushed in with his other books. He hadn't been that interested himself; to him the mere notion of vampires and demons and other things was just ridiculous. Despite his cover as a psychic, he refused to believe in anything that couldn't be explained.

These head-shot wounds could easily have been faked for a sort of sick joke. Woody and the others could find that out soon enough. He inspected the wings charred into the floor and determined it was some sort of calling card. As for the eyeball burning- His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed a tiny drop of a substance on a knife that one of the victims had been holding. Shawn knelt down to inspect it. It appeared to have similar properties to blood, but rather than crimson, it had the colour of a starless night.

Dean slammed the laptop shut as the surveillance video ended, his fury so obvious that Sam didn't dare complain. "Leviathans," he fumed. To Henry he looked like he could have killed something at that moment, which was probably accurate. "What the hell are the freaking LEVIATHANS still doing on the planet?!" His hands dug into the upholstery on the couch like it was the only thing keeping him sane - and it probably was.

"I thought when we killed Dick Roman-" started Sam

"-it would take out the rest." finished his brother as he clawed deeper into the couch.

"I don't want to sound out of the hunting loop here," said Henry, "but what exactly are the leviathans? I'm assuming that we aren't talking about the big fish Job was talking about. And what do they have to do with that dead business guy?"

The Winchesters started describing briefly about where they came from - Dean decided that Cas felt badly enough and left out his role in all of it. Then they went into their plan to dumb down and fatten up the human race, told him about Dick, their weakness, borax, the "bibings" and the one weapon that could kill them once and for all; the bone.

"So, you said that anyone following Dick would fall as well when you killed him, right?" asked Henry, and continued when they nodded in reply. "What about the ones that didn't follow him?" The brothers exchanged looks while Cas tilted his head, holding his hands to stop their shaking. "What if the odd few chose to go their own way? From what you told me of how he punished failure it seems likely that at least one would walk. You say the bone killed him and his followers, but what of the others?"

A silence fell around the room as they considered the horrible idea. Yet they all had no choice to except one thing: that no matter what the reason, the damned leviathans were still alive and were still eating people.

"We need to get a look at that crime scene," the four agreed in unison.

"I'm sensing a strange substance... drug perhaps?" Shawn had begun his "psychic vision" routine for the others. "It's on a wallet? Taco? No... no its on a... knife! Yes, a silver blade which is over..." he stumbled in the direction of the body whose fist was clenched around the blade in question, "here!" he took a few more steps and led the officers behind him to the "black whatever" as he now called it.

Jules saw it first when she bent down to inspect it. "He's right, there's something on this knife. Look." She motioned for Vick and other officers. Lassiter, after a long argument with Vick on the phone, was allowed to join the case and had also come to see what Shawn's latest vision had revealed.

After making sure sufficient pictures had been taken, Lassiter picked up the knife with a kleenex, being careful not to disrupt the blood-like liquid, and dropped it in an evidence bag.

"Well hey, Lassie-dog, glad you could make it." Shawn beamed.

"Call me Lassie-dog one more time," he threatened.

"Okay, Lassie-dog." Shawn ignored the glare his friend was giving him. "Anyway, my watch says the peanut vendor will be here in five. Your loss if you miss out!" And by that Shawn meant that he was going to sneak off and check for surveillance from outside, since most of the cameras around the room had been blown out (if the deep cracks he could see were anything to go by). That and he also wanted to make sure Gus wasn't still puking in the trash bin.

Fortunately his friend seemed to have recovered, although he seemed to still be a bit stunned.

"Whoa, maybe we outta get you home, you don't look so good. Seriously, you will get pulled over if you drive like that."

"Shawn, did you see that car?"

Shawn furrowed his eyebrows. "You mean that sweet Mercedes in the guy's yard that's up for sale? Good man, that's a total babe magnet," he grinned.

"I meant the black Impala that just drove by."

"An Impala? Man I gotta get me one of them. You know how hot them things are these days?" he joked, smiling.

"The Winchesters drove a black Impala!" exclaimed Gus.

Shawn stopped smiling. The Winchesters' last kill streak before they reportedly died at a police station had taken many lives, as well as a member of the SBPD. The world might have forgotten Sam and Dean Winchester, but Shawn and most of the officers in the police department wouldn't.

"Stop freaking out. They're dead, remember?" said Shawn, mostly to reassure himself more than Gus.

"They've been dead before. I heard that they burned to death in a helicopter about five years ago but they came back-" Gus cut off mid-sentence and stared gravely at something on the other side of the street. "S-Shawn, it's still there." He pointed a shakey finger.

Shawn followed his gaze and gasped. A black Impala was parked on the other side of the street, and he could see four men inside. One he didn't recognize; a man with messy black hair and a trench coat. He couldn't make out the other man in the back for he was wearing a large, black hood that concealed his features.

Then the two in the front climbed out of the car, followed by the trench coat dude. Their faces made Shawn's blood run cold. One moose-man and one squirrel boy; these were the Winchesters alright.

"We need to go, Shawn. These Winchester guys were probably behind this whole thing! You need to tell Vick." Gus urged as he pulled on his friend's sleeve, but Shawn wouldn't budge. Finally he shook his head.

"The Winchesters always used guns and the same knife over and over. There wasn't a single bullet in that room and the knives weren't the same as the one they use. Besides, there weren't even any of those Satan circle thingys." It was only a rumour some of their crime scenes had this devil-worship stuff, but it likely had to be based from something.

"You mean a Devil's Trap?"

"Yeah, how'd ya know?"

"I read the books, Shawn." When Shawn remained silent he continued, "The Supernatural books. The first few came out just before these guys got famous. They must be some kind of psycho die-hards, especially having the same first names as in the books."

He thought for a moment. "Gus, get me as many of those books as you can. If the Winchesters are linked to this case the clue will be in one of those. I'll tail them and find out more, and then I'll have more to tell the others."