Whew. After that disturbing vision I sure hope the boys come up with a good plan!

Sam gasped, clutching his head, and was surprised to find himself sitting back in a large leather chair. He looked around the room and saw one concerned face, one face full of knowing, and someone who didn't look very happy.

"He stole my vision face," Shawn complained.

"He actually is psychic," Dean snapped.

"But it's mine," Shawn whined, "I called it!"

"The car," Sam muttered, "the Echo. It got smashed between two semis and we were all inside it."

"That's a company car!" Gus yelped.

"Gus, relax," Shawn soothed, "I'm sure if we get out of it alive they'll understand."

"We won't get out of it alive, though," Sam said, "two semis up against that little thing? We don't stand a chance."

Dean stood up and began to pace the room. "There's a legend about a VW Bug," he finally explained, "there's a big truck crash outside of a couple's house, and they agree to leave the trucks there until the investigation's over. A few days later, though, they regret the decision. Something smells, and the cops come to take the trucks away and find three dead bodies in the Bug between them. But the ghost can't get both trucks to hit us, can it?"

"It only has to use one," Sam reasoned, "only has to put us in harm's way, then come up behind us. If it gets us in the path of an oncoming truck, we'll be sandwiched."

"I don't suppose you know when or where this happens," Shawn said, watching with mild interest as Dean paced through the office.

Sammy shook his head. "It was dark, though. I think it was somewhere in Santa Barbara."

"Well," Shawn scoffed, "that's a lot to go on."

"You've got more precise info, then, Psychic Wonder?" Dean challenged, stopping his jog around the room to face Shawn and stare the shorter man down.

"Where do you get all these nicknames?" the 'psychic' asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"He used to use them on me," Sam replied, still rubbing his aching head, "I guess you're easier pickings. You don't fight back."

"Oh, I don't?" Shawn questioned, "well, all right, here's something you probably didn't see coming. That jacket? So last century. Oh, and back in '89, you were kind of goofy looking. Yeah, you were such a freak that I actually remember."

"At least I didn't look like a skate punk in training," Dean shot back.

"My car isn't a boat."

"It isn't your car," Gus pointed out.

"That was a low blow," Dean nodded, ignoring Gus, "but at least I'm not gay."

"What?" the office's three other occupants gasped in unison.

"Oh, come on," Dean smirked, "you and Gus? It's so obvious. So, are you gonna invite me and Sam to the wedding?"

Gus scowled as Shawn began laughing. "Touché," the fake psychic chuckled, "but I should probably tell you that for a while there I thought you and Sam…"

"Just once," Dean nodded, "and Sammy didn't go along with it, even if lives were in danger. Otherwise, we both stick to chicks."

"Except for that one time," Sam grinned, "but I can hardly hold that against you. It was dark in that club, and you were pretty drunk."

"Yeah. So was he."

"Benjamin James was cremated," Lassiter announced proudly, his eyes traveling over the FBI agent that stood before him, "and even if he hadn't been, why would you want to exhume the body? It has nothing to do with this case."

"It has everything to do with the case," Dean argued, "do you know if any of his close personal belongings were saved, maybe he'd just gotten a haircut and they hadn't gotten rid of the hair? Is anything left?"

Carlton shook his head. "Nothing. But I still don't understand your sudden fascination with the ULK."

"ULK?"

"Urban Legend Killer," Juliet offered, approaching the two men, "I ran a search on him after Shawn called."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "The psychic called you about it?"

"He said James' spirit was restless, so I looked the guy up. He patterns his murders off of popular urban myths, like Bloody Mary and the man with the hook. You have to admit, the way the Stenson girl died matches his MO."

Dean nodded. "Just what I was telling your partner here. I've been working with your psychic, Ms. O'Hara. He's very convincing. He's made a true believer out of me."

"He's amazing," Juliet agreed.

"So, are you seeing anyone?"

"Excuse me?"

"I was just thinking," Dean grinned, "that maybe we could get together tonight and talk about the case, as two believers in the unexplained, and I just wanted to make sure it wouldn't be seen by anyone as a date. Wouldn't want someone to get jealous."

Juliet sighed, glancing at Lassiter, who rolled his eyes again and walked off. "I'd love to, Dean, but I have to work late. Maybe we could meet up somewhere? Around nine?"

Dean's grin widened as he nodded. "Fine by me."

He was glad he had Sam around. Really glad. Without Sam, he would have had to trust Gus and Shawn to look for the source of the ghost's urban myth list. While Gus struck him as an OK guy, there was just something about Shawn Spencer that didn't sit well with Dean. The older man was irresponsible, a liar, and kind of crazy. To tell the truth, he reminded Dean a lot of himself, which scared the hunter more than he would admit.

But, Sammy was back at Psych HQ with his trusty laptop, keeping an eye on Dean's almost-double, so he'd been free for the night. His date with the lovely Juliet O'Hara had gone well, and Dean was wondering whether or not he should move in for a kiss when he saw it. A shadow lurking in the backseat of the female officer's car. It was there and gone so quickly Dean thought he might have imagined it, but with a killer on the loose, he couldn't take any chances.

"You know," he said as they reached their cars, "it's kind of late. Maybe I should give you a ride."

"I just had a burger and a Coke," she smiled, "I'll be fine." Juliet pulled open the car door and slid in behind the wheel.

"Are you sure?" Dean asked.

"Positive," she sighed, closing the door.

Glancing back at the officer's car, Dean climbed into his own and started it up, following his date out of the restaurant parking lot and onto the deserted highway. That's when he saw it again, a shadow, clearly the head and shoulders of a male, looming up from the backseat of Juliet's car. There was a sharp object in the shadow's hand.

Thinking fast, Dean flashed his brights and the shadow ducked back down. That was when he understood. Cursing, he fumbled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed his brother's number.

Sam grabbed for his phone as it vibrated across the table. He checked the id and was glad to find his brother's name on the screen. He had some important news for Dean that really couldn't wait.

"Hello?" he asked, smiling at his laptop screen and the pile of paper he'd recently finished printing, "Dean, yeah, listen, I found the site and I know what the next legend is."

"Killer in the backseat," Dean shouted through a crackle of static, "I know. I also know who the next victim is. It's Juliet."

"Juliet?" Sam asked, attracting Shawn's attention, "you're sure?"

"I can see the guy's shadow," Dean explained, "I've been flashing my lights since we left the restaurant. It's Juliet."

"Well, OK," Sam muttered, "where are you, we'll come and help you out."

"Highway," Dean replied through more static, "I'm not sure where she's going, but I'm following her."

Sam nodded. "The highway, well, that's specific, Dean. Any more vague details that could help us…where's Shawn?"

"What?"

"Shawn disappeared," Sam said just as the roar of a motorcycle engine revving up outside the office reached his ears, "and I guess your backup's on its way."