OK, in-between the fourth and fifth season for Psych, second season for Supernatural. Shawn and Sam are only eight years apart in this, to clarify the first chapter.

And I can tell you: this is the darkest I'll ever go in a story.

"I bet you ten bucks you won't make it." Shawn threw the paper basketball at Gus's head. It missed and hit the computer he was typing on.

"Shawn. I can't bet the money you stole from me."

"Fine. Then I'll give it back." Shawn checked his pockets. "Ooh," he grimaced, not finding the "stolen" money in his front pockets.

"How the hell could you have spent ten dollars without leaving the office?"

"I don't kn - oh yeah. The peanut guy came through."

"Wait, what? You said you saw Juliet. And why didn't you get me any?" Gus got up and crossed his arms.

"OK, first off: I said I saw Juliet jogging. That doesn't mean we stopped to chat. Second: I was lying. Obviously."

"So your alibi was staring at your girlfriend while she jogged down the street? Dude. Even I can come up with better."

"Oh, forget it already. I'll make it up to you later. 'Sides, our favorite detective is stomping his way up to our door." Shawn peeked out the window. Their favorite Lassey dog looked frustrated. Probably because he had to come for help.

Detective Carlton Lassiter didn't even bother knocking, since he had the unfortunate luck of having to see these twits almost everyday. Instead, he shoved the unlocked door open and stated, "We have a case for you fakers. If you want it, you're going to need to ride with me." He muttered an insult under his breath as he turned around.

"Lassey, my man! Nice entrance, never fails to keep us wanting more. And as much as we'd like to ride with you in your lovely little go-cart, the Blueberry's right there." He pointed to Gus's work car with his thumb.

"Yeah, I know." He sounded sorry, then straightened up. "But as much as I hate it, these were direct orders. Personally, I was hoping you'd decline just this one case, because the ride's about an hour, hour and a half."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there." Gus went over to Lassiter. "Why do we even need to ride with you? Why not Juliet?"

"Gus, I told you this morning. She's at a family reunion. Hopefully her dad will show this time, now that they've gotten the chance to…to reconcile." Feeling awkward talking about this, Shawn rubbed the back of his neck. He knew Mr. O'Hara wouldn't show; he was in Antarctica smuggling polar bear parts.

"Yeah . . . Just - let's just get this over with." Lassiter sighed. He marched out the door, the two detectives following behind.

The car ride over was awkward, even for Shawn. When the car stopped, he jumped out and dropped to the ground, kissing it. Gus ran out to the side, barfing into a bush.

"My precious! Oh, my precious! Never again shall I leave you!" Shawn stopped and looked up at Detective Lassiter, "Seventeen miles over the speed limit?"

"The speed limit was too slow. And even you have to agree, the ride was getting pretty damn long."

"The speed limit was eighty! You were driving almost a hundred on that thing." Gus came back, wiping his mouth.

"Ah, be a man Guster. You won't get far in life if you don't take risks. Shawn-" he paused and sighed, "We got to you too late. Follow me, men. It's all down hill from here." He started onto a trail, heading deeper into the forest.

"Forest murder."

"Or mauled by bears."

"Let's just see the body before you declare a bear maul."

"I have always wanted to declare a case . . . Sweet father of the holy Twinkie, look at this baby!"

Shawn ran over to a black Impala that, though a little dirty, was in perfect condition. He circled it, and stopped at the taillights.

"Dude. Who would draw stars on this baby? I mean, it would look good on-"

"Get your asses in here now!" Both men jumped, and ran onto the trail, car immediately forgotten.

After a half hour, they arrived at an abandoned campsite. Or, not so abandoned. Chief Vick, McNab, two other police officers, and a man in a black suit who was on a phone were all scattered around. A cover-up was on the ground next to the tent, with feet sticking out the end. The man on the phone was a few feet away from it.

Gus covered his mouth, gagging, while the other two went over to the cover. "Now, I don't believe in your whole psychic thing, but the chief says you need to try to pick up vibrations from the body. And to warn you: her clothes were tattered. Beside the body. No peeking."

"No problem. Just give me a few feet of space. A few minutes of silence. And for god's sake, keep Gus away. He's offending her spirit."

Lassiter stepped away, going over to taunt Gus. Shawn uncovered the body as far as the shoulders, no lower. She was a brunette, in her late teens. The first thing Shawn noticed was all of the cuts on her arms.

Clothes found tattered. Next to her body.

Without revealing anything, he lifted her arms. There were fresh slashes all over.

Naked.

Please help me find my daughter! She was camping with her boyfriend, and . . .

Her name is Zoe. Zoe Malone. Her boyfriend, Drake Zeech, disappeared too . . .

Shawn put his hand to his mouth. This was the first time he had encountered rape. The second thing he noticed was her pale complexion. Like the blood completely left her body. He checked beside the body. There was dried blood, but not as much as the body holds. Something had made her that pale, and it wasn't blood. Partly.

He looked around, about to call Lassey, when he saw dent markings in the grass just beside Gus. Like a body had landed there. And further more, one end of it was the color of dead leaves. But where was Drake's body then?

Shawn opened his mouth to call Lassey over, and then caught part of the phone conversation from the gut in black.

"Yeah, I'm taking care of "your baby" and no, I haven't run her into a ditch. Let's stay focused on the case, the Impala's fine! . . . Well, what else could it be? . . . Uh, no. Highly doubtful, Dean…Just - just let me take over, K? Keep researching. She . . . I've already sent pictures . . . You tell me!" Shawn frowned.

FBI agents fighting over who did it? Keep researching? What-

"Yeah. Just let me get back to it, alright? I'll get to you when I can." With that, he hung up. Shawn heard footsteps approaching. He stood up and faced the agent.

Time to put on the psych.

"Hi, my name's Sam VanHorn. I'm with the FBI, and I would like to ask-"

VanHorn? Where have I heard that?

"Hi, yeah. Hold on a second." He faced the corpse once again, put his hand to his ear, and listened to nothing for a few seconds. "What? I-I can't hear very . . . no! Don't, NO!" He had to resist the urge to laugh as the FBI agent's eyes went from normal to saucers. Shawn dropped to his knees as everyone crowded around. And, just to show off, he started trembling.

"Holy crap, is he OK?"

"It's just a vision."

"Vision?"

"He's our psychic detective for the department." Chief Vick almost sounded proud.

"Oh. Uh . . ."

Shawn spoke with his version of a girl's voice, "Drake? Drake! Stop it! Don't you dare! Augh! Stop!"He started gasping, and looked up at everyone. "Not murder! Not murder! I am Zoe Malone and I accuse Drake Zeech of rape!" He snarled, and spoke with a lower voice, "I am Drake Zeech, and I accuse a third party of murder!" He stumbled up, crawling over to where Drake's body was. He now spoke with his regular voice. "It was here! This very spot! A double murder! Zoe was raped by her boyfriend, and Drake was murdered by another!"

No one said anything.

(Cut to the Psych theme song, only it sounds more like the Twin Peaks version, but starts out with the beginning of Supernatural's theme. Or just imagine it as the Twin Peaks version.)