Sorry, it took me a while to find the proper inspiration for this chapter to lead up to the next part. But woo-hoo! Thank you all so much for your support!

But also: I'd really like for people to review, instead of just add this to favorites or alerts. It means a lot that people care, but then it's kind of ruined when they don't leave anything to show. If you like it, please tell me. If not, tell me why.


Gus and Sam were at the office now, getting out of the car. After Shawn had declared it to be something supernatural, the groups had split. Shawn and Dean were to look into the bodies and try to find clues while Sam and Gus were to actually research.

"You've named your fake detective agency 'Psych?' I'm sorry, but isn't that a little obvious?"

"That's what I told Shawn," Gus sighed, unlocking the door.

He led Sam to the desk, clearing away several wrappers and an empty chip bag. He picked it up. "What? I just bought this yesterday. Shawn owes me four ninety-five."

"You actually payed that much for chips?"

"These are a good quality. They import from Canada. Orphans there hand-make their chips, and sell them to support their orphanage."

"Yeah . . . Let's just research." He pulled out the laptop.

Gus sat down at his computer desk. "What exactly are we searching for here?"

"We're supposed to look for demons who would do that to a human being," He pointed to the picture of the body under the dock.

"Mmmm," It wasn't so bad as a picture, the camera didn't really catch it too well. Gus could look at it and only feel sick.

They began the research.


"Woody, my man!"

"Shawn. Pleasant surprise. Who's this?"

"Woody, this is FBI agent Dean Underdunk. Dean, this is our coroner for the SBPD, Woody."

Woody grimaced, shaking Dean's hand. "Underdunk, huh? I'm so sorry."

Dean looked down, trying not to smile. "Yeah, the kids at school weren't."

"Ooh," He turned back to Shawn. "What'll it be?"

"The rape and soup-dude."

"Alrighty." Woody pulled out a jar of red, white and pink goop from a drawer. "This is the soup-man. I agree with you, he was especially hard to get down. I don't think we got all of him, but there are parts of bone, and pieces of bowls. But we seem to be missing his spinal cord and part of the head. Enjoy," He handed Shawn the bowl, "and you're rape will be up next."

"Does anybody else besides me think you two are nuts?" Dean couldn't wait to solve this case, kill the demon, and get the hell out of Santa Barbara. The people here were too weird for his taste.

"Yes, Drake's innards probably do. Now here," Woody led them to Zoey's body, "is Zoey, poor girl."

He pulled open a slice in the sheet, revealing her stomach.

Shawn squinted, "Oh my god. Is that a-"

"Yep."

"And he did it right on her-"

"Uh-huh."

Dean showed no real emotion. This was normal work. Sort of.

"Dude. That isn't normal."

"You think that's weird? Her navel's right in the center of it. I got kind of bored last night, and decided to measure."

Dean looked at Woody with his eyebrow raised, officially freaked out.

"I get night shifts," He shrugged.

"Can't you just read a book, or play on the computer, or something normal like that?"

"Says the man with the last name Underdunk."

"Hey, whoa dudes. Let's not bicker over who killed who."

"But we have to. Or, you do, since you're a psychic. Would you like for me to sing Brave Sir Robin* for you?"

Dean crossed his arms, smiling. "Yeah, Mr. psychic boy. What readings can you pick up from this?" He motioned to the girl's belly.

Shawn put his hand up to his temple immediately. "Give me silence and a cinnamon sugar donut."

Woody leaned back against the wall, Dean rolled his eyes and did the same. On the opposite wall.

Shawn turned back to the girl, studying her intensely.

Head, there's only one mark on there.

A long gnash from the neck, up, below her nose, back down the other side. Other than that, no scars marked her face. Not even any bruises.

Scars all the same length.

The scars Drake had engraved into her skin were all four inches in length exactly.

And, once again, the star on her belly.

There was just a plain star, her navel in the center.

The star isn't a scar like the rest.

It wasn't red, it was black. Like somebody drew it with a pen.

Or . . .

"Oh! Psychic vibrations from beyond the wild blue yonder!" He grabbed a tissue from the box on the table and inspected it intensely, like it was a clue. Then, Shawn pushed it onto the star, rubbing it a little.

"Hey, we haven't taken pictures of that yet!" Woody exclaimed.

"This star - it's different than the other scars. As a matter of fact," he lifted the napkin, showing it to the other two, "this isn't even a flesh wound."

The napkin was black from the star; Dean took it to examine. "What is this?"

Woody took it, "You'll find out tomorrow."


"Hey, I think I found something that may match." Gus frowned. "But it may not be exactly what we're looking at here."

"Anything's better than what I've got."

Sam got up, looking over Gus's shoulder. He had a puzzled face after seeing the screen, "The Blair Witch?"

"Well. All Google has to offer are a bunch of TV shows when I look into it, and when I mention 'bodies inside pentagon,' 911 comes up."

"No, no this - this is good," he went back to his laptop, "it has to be a witch. No other demon can use a Pentagon, it'll get trapped. This gives us a lead, then!"

"So I was actually right?"

"Yeah."

"And this demon thing is a witch?"

"Yeah."

"Then shouldn't we tell Shawn and Dean?"

"Yeah . . ." Sam grimaced.

"Forty minutes of nothing but pineapples?"

"Yeah."

Gus nodded. They could wait. "Well, no offense, but I don't look to forward to seeing Dean either."

"None taken. Try living with him."

"Try hanging with a fake psychic."

Sam looked up. "Speak of the witches, here they are now."

Gus looked out the window. Dean was marching ahead of Shawn. Shawn was saying something.

A + B = ba-boom.

The door opened. "-n't think that your detective's onto me yet."

"I warn you, the only reason why nobody is onto you is because they don't watch The Simpsons. If you keep using that badge, then somebody will."

"I'll ditch it later. Sammy, Jack, find anything? Say yes." Both glared at him.

"Don't call me Sammy."

"Don't call me Jack."

"It wasn't a question."

Sam sighed. "We found out it was a witch."

"And that it's apparently pretty powerful. Like, the original power that started the Witch Trials. Shawn, this thing may be a little out of our league here. You're a fake psychic getting yourself involved with real demon hunters here. Besides, have you seen what the witches used to do to people? They possessed little girls, Shawn. Little girls."

All heads turned to give Gus a look.

Shawn then turned to Sam. "We're supposed to get the results tomorrow, but we think we have a lead."

"Our little witch left a trademark on Zoey. It's drawn out in something black, the lab results will come in tomorrow. Meet you two when it comes in."

Sam and Dean left, leaving Shawn and Gus alone with the picture of Drake.

Shawn turned, "Red Robin smoothies?"

"You know it."


Also, scratch that. For Psych it's around season six, sometime before the finale (won't give anything away on the subject of that), but Henry's still with us.

* - Spamalot. Hilarious song, very wrong, but hilarious.