Gabriel had just been passing through li'l old Santa Barbara when he came across a crime scene. He rolled his eyes - seen one gruesome death, you've seen them all - but found his attention caught by a guy on the scene. He was pointing at an insignificant detail at the foot of the victim, declaring that spirits were telling him that it was relevant.
Gabriel snorted. "What bullshit." The bar of chocolate he'd been craving appeared in his hand and he tore a chunk out of it. He sighed; that was better.
Although, now that he looked at the victim properly, that little thingamajig the guy had pointed out was actually relevant. It was pretty incriminating evidence against the murderer. But that guy wasn't psychic; Gabriel would never be so far fallen that he wouldn't notice a human's brain poking around with its tricky sixth sense, looking for spirits. And there wasn't a single soul (literally) around!
So, the guy wasn't a psychic, but he still got his guesses right, huh? Gabriel smiled widely. Now that could be interesting. He took another bite of his chocolate, considering.
It seemed to him that somebody with that kind of talent would have to be ridiculously overconfident. Definitely needed to be taken down a peg.
Shawn was just about to find a believable connection between the tissue found at the crime scene and the girlfriend with a cold waiting down at the police station when the most painful headache he'd ever had hit him, completely out of nowhere. He fell against a table, covering his eyes, and definitely not crying out in pain at all.
"Shawn?" Gus asked, and the sound of his voice, normally very calming and soothing, like aloe vera for sun-burnt ears, was a stabbing pain in Shawn's temples. But he definitely didn't whimper.
"Shawn?" Gus repeated. Shawn continued to not whimper in pain, but when a hand landed on his shoulder and pushed, he didn't resist the motion and fell back into a chair. Rubbing at his temples, Shawn opened his eyes, and closed them immediately. But it didn't help - what he'd seen when he opened his eyes didn't go away. If anything, it got clearer.
He was wearing a ruffled purple dress, walking down a street - he could see part of the sign for the cross street, Something-ton Ave - he looked in a window, and saw his reflection - it was of a little girl in his dress, no more than ten. She kept walking - looking for her mother - looking into the alley, and there he was - tall, absolutely huge - and then he had her by the arm, and he pulled and -
"Gus!" Shawn shouted, and he was back in himself. He looked at his arm in disbelief, panting. There were no bruises. He wasn't the girl. That wasn't real.
But the newspaper that had been in the box she walked past - that was local. And the date - Shawn jumped up and grabbed for a newspaper - it was today. The cover stories matched.
"Shawn, what's going on?"
The store she passed - where was that? He knew where it was, he was sure of it, if he could just think -
"I saw something," he said. Wilmington! That was the street. He frowned, looking around. "Does somebody have a map? I need to find - " He stopped. Why did he stop?
Oh. Gus had grabbed his arm. "Shawn, be serious," he said in a low whisper. "What's going on?"
"I don't know," Shawn replied in the same tone. "I just - saw something. A kid, walking past that deli you hate - "
"The one that uses the wrong mayonnaise?"
Shawn huffed an impatient sigh. "No, the one that uses the wrong pickles. That's not the point - that kid gets pulled into an alley by a creepy looking guy in his fifties, and if I don't find her, I think he's going to do something to her."
Gus looked at Shawn warily. "Shawn, you're talking like - "
"I know what I'm talking like." Shawn clenched and unclenched a fist. "I know it sounds crazy, but I think this is actually going to happen. Today! The jewelry store half a block from that deli was just closing for lunch - that gives us -" he glanced at the clock "- maybe twenty minutes to get to the other side of town and get to her before he does. Come on!" He ran out the door.
Gus followed, calling, "Shawn! You know I hate running after you when I don't know where we're going! Or why!"
"Two blocks from Joe's Deli," Shawn shouted over his shoulder. He reached the Blueberry, and waited for Gus to unlock the passenger door. "And I think I might really be psychic now!"
Gus narrowed his eyes, but unlocked the doors. "I still don't entirely believe you, Shawn," he said.
"Come on, man, we don't have much time."
The blue Echo pulled out of the parking space in front of the Psych office and drove off towards Joe's Deli.
As it turned out, Gus should have believed Shawn. And Shawn was actually psychic now. And he didn't even get to use his new powers on a case, because Lassiter had already figured out the connection Shawn had seen and arrested the girlfriend.
Weirdest. Day. Ever.
So the guy may have not died. And he may not have learned a lesson from any of it. But Gabriel still thought it was fucking hilarious.