I didn't expect so many people to like this story (I had no hope in this-even just seven people is a lot for it)! So, thanks for reviewing, and here's another chapter.

Shawn and Gus arrived before Sam did. But there was another "agent" asking several cops questions, just beneath the pier.

Shawn nudged Gus. "There's Sideshow Bob."

"Sideshow Bob?"

Shawn looked at him, and realized he hadn't told Gus about the names. "Oh yeah. His last name is supposedly Underdunk."

"His last name's Terwilliger."

"No, he told me Underdunk."

"Who?"

"Sam."

"No, his last name is Terwilliger."

"I'm talking about Dean."

"Is Dean's last name is Underdunk or Terwilliger?"

"Yes. Wait. No. It's really Winchester, but he's using Underdunk. Sideshow Bob's last name is Terwilliger. Bob's middle name is Underdunk."

"So his fake name is Dean Underdunk? And Sideshow Bob is Robert Underdunk Terwilliger?"

"Yes.

"How do you know that? I never see you watching the Simpsons."

"I caught Funeral For a Fiend the other day."

"Ah."

They walked over to Lassiter. "Llllllllllassey!" Shawn used the detective's shoulders to hop up. Lassiter yelled.

"What the hell Spencer?"

"That's for the car ride."

He gave him the "what the hell?" look while the two went over to Dean. "You must be Mr. Underdunk. I am Shawn Spencer, and this is my partner, Jack Skellington," Gus glared at Shawn, Dean raised an eyebrow. "I am the head psychic detective for the SBPD, and I am here to help. Now, if anybody can tell me where the body is?"

Dean looked down, obviously hiding something. When Shawn looked everybody in the eye, they all looked down. Even Lassiter.

"What? Where's the body?"

They all looked up, at the top of the pier. Shawn gasped, Gus made a gagging sound and looked down, walking away. More like running. For once in his life, Shawn was speechless.

Right above him was a Pentagon, a star inside a circle. It was huge, at least ten, fifteen feet wide. But inside . . . Inside the circle was a body. At least that's what Shawn thought it was. The blood splattered across the pier like a fly on a windshield, bits of bone jutting out here and there. As he gazed up at it, something came spindling down, landing on his forehead.

In a daze, he took it in his fingers, and turned it over. It was a bone, curved, like part of a skull. The world came back to Shawn, and he cried out and threw it into the air. The skull piece came back down, landing on Detective Carlton Lassiter's head. He jumped and swiped it off, where it landed on the ground.

"Jesus, you're gonna need a shovel." Silence didn't last long for Shawn.

"We think it's a male, there are traces of short hair in there."

Shawn turned towards Lassey. "You're basing the sex off of his hair?"

"Yes. What else could there be, look at it!"

"It? It's a he, Lassey. I doubt I can get much from the body, but I need to try . . . Something," He ushered them away, watching Dean out of the corner of his eye as he went along with the rest. Several others got into a car, their work done.

That leaves Gus, Lassiter, and Dean. Where's Sam?

Shawn looked back up. The body was . . . It had a supernatural tint to it. Well, it had to be. No human could do that to another person. But vampires can't do that, can they?

"Dean Underdunk!" He called out.

Dean looked up in shock. He went over, eyeing Shawn like a bug that needed to be squished. "How do you know my name?"

"Met your brother." He checked to make sure nobody was close enough to hear. Lassiter was filling out papers, Gus was in the car holding a bag to his face. "When he was six."

Dean showed no emotion. "So? And how would you remember that?"

"Well, it was my first interaction with the supernatural. You know, that name sounds like a TV show I've heard somewhere . . . Supernatural. Oh, sorry. And he remembered me by the genius way I banged two trashcan lids against the vampire's head."

Dean's eyebrows raised. "There are no such things as vampires, psychic boy."

"Alright, denying it. I've worked with denying before, Sideshow Bob. Or should we say: Dean Winchester." He put his fingers to his head on Winchester.

Now Shawn had him. Dean opened and closed his mouth. "How . . ." Then he realized, drawing his head back, "You're the real deal, aren't you?"

"Sort of. I'm the one who banged the trashcan lids together on the vampire's head. Gus was the one who screamed like a little girl and ran away."

Finally, Sam pulled up in the Impala. Dean didn't bother to answer Shawn, and instead dragged him by the arm to the car. "You told him?" Dean yell-whispered like a scolding mother.

"Technically, I remembered it," Shawn whispered, "and I'm a psychic."

"No you're not." Sam frowned.

"Then how did he know my name?"

"Well, I told him that, yes, but-"

"So you told him demons exist? Oh, sorry. You already did twenty four years ago."

"Why are we whispering here?" Shawn realized how much both brothers had in common with he and Gus.

Both men grumbled. Dean now spoke in a normal voice, "So you're a fake psychic detective?"

"Well don't say it out loud!" Shawn looked around. Everyone else was busy, thank god.

"Why a psychic?"

"Yeah, don't ask him to go into that." Sam rubbed his neck.

"Why? You hunt demons but can't stand the sound of my voice?"

"I know I can't." Dean raised his hands and made a start for Lassiter. Sam followed, mumbling a quick catch you later.

Shawn went back under the pier. The body was fascinating. All of that blood and bone, all mashed up inside the-

Wait.

The splatter looked like it had been stopped inside the circle, limited to its boundaries. It would have . . . spilled out more, if the circle hadn't stopped it.

Another thing. There were no clothes. No strands of cloth, only hair and inner/outer body parts.

"Uh. Sam? Dean? Gus?"

Gus glared at Shawn from inside the car, then turned his head stubbornly away. Lassiter, Sam and Dean came over.

"Yes Spencer, we know it's inside a star."

"Oh, sorry then. You can go back to your little hut and continue growing those nine inch nails you've always been talking about."

"You're just jealous I actually provide for my girlfriend. And it's a band, not actual nails. And it's her who likes them."

"Oh, yeah. Her. What about those "ghosts" Gus and I rid you of?"

"It was an insane woman with relationship problems who was drugging me."

"A divorced woman with relationship problems who was-"

"You called us here for a reason?" Sam was getting tired of this now.

"Yes. Do you see how the blood doesn't leave the pentagon? How it looks like it can splatter a few more miles-"

"Feet."

"Sarcasm, something foreign to you, I know. I'll have Gus teach it to you sometime. And notice how there's no clothing inside?"

"Wait. It's a male. No clothing. Drake raped her . . . Are you suggesting this is Drake?" Despite how annoying he could be, Sam had to admit he was smart.

"Yes. Now, the million dollar question is this: how did someone- or something- get him up there?"