It hit him that no one actually knew who Lassie was for sure. Sure, he was an Irish thoroughbred of a man, but who was he really? He had like no back story to speak of, only talking briefly of a former wife and a few academy memories, while everyone else at the station had told him about their nannies and Aunt Giamaimmas. It's hard to judge a person who says so much but says so little…that sounded poetic.

The man in question had been acting particularly mysterious this week, when several hooligans vandalized a chapel downtown. He retracted into a hedgehog like state and disappeared for a day. The same group was found murdered in Kingsley Park two nights ago. Shawn managed to filch some security footage from a parking lot that had been in spitting distance of the park. Grinning manically, he knew he was going to one up Lassie's newbie if it was the last thing he ever did.

He held the tape in his hands, fingers tingling with sweet anticipation. The film was boring up until the time of the murder. There, Shawn stopped his pacing and stared at the CCTV footage in shock, an Irish mane appeared in the park, Crown Vic unmistakable.

The dark figure wisps in and out of the feed…a video glitch? The hoodlums approach the police chief from the parking lot. One faced the camera with a devilish grin, frighteningly black eyes mocked the viewer. It was a showdown.

They pulled out knives and guns, circling Lassiter as he just stood there. What happened next was a blur; eerie blurs slamming through the backs of the gunmen, blood spurting past shoulder blades like demonic wings. It was Mad Max, but without the dome.

Lassie flicked his wrist, blood flicked out in the brushing action. His wrists still glowed in the dark night. Shawn was too baffled to even come up with an explanation. He just witnessed Carlton Lassiter murder three men—tearing them apart with his hands. He paused the footage, raking his fingers through his hair.

Carlton Lassiter, father to be, genteel husband, law abiding citizen, possible Border collie and police chief is he didn't even know what to call this…a monster? He felt betrayed, so very betrayed.

The office was suddenly went dead silent. A soft creak and the sound of the baseball bat next to the door landed with a thump on the hardwood floor and Shawn felt a jolt, he jumped to a standing position. To his horror, Lassie was standing in the shadows.

"H-hey, Lassie, my man! How you doin'? Police Chief is a nice look on you…" trembling fingertips groped around his desk for a stapler, anything.

He regards Shawn calmly, shaking his head slowly…left to right, right to left. "I wish you hadn't seen that tape…give it to me." The veins in his hand glowed red as his palms outstretched towards mine.

"I just gotta' ask, man, why? Why did you kill them?" Shawn looked to the outstretched fingers in trepidation, his own reached for the tape, stuffing it back into a manila envelope, before handing it slowly over.

Lassie scoffed, rolling his eyes, "They were out for blood, Spencer. If I had let them live they would have had it. I'm sure a psychic such as yourself would understand." Lassie snarled, sarcasm dripped from his tongue like acid. He snapped, he officially snapped. He started stepping closer and closer, Shawn backed up further and further towards the wall, the door merely inches from his palm.

"Com'mon, let's go get some fried pineapple upside down cake and forget this whole-" Suddenly, Lassiter was inches from his face, his steely blues looking down on him in sadness.

"I can't Shawn. I had started a new life here, but it seems someone has it out for me. I have to erase evidence of me being here…you are a vital liability, Spencer." He turned and was quickly cast in shadows once again, the tape in his hands.

"You can't tell anyone." He turned his head, eyes full of remorse…Shawn was sure he was going to kill him, he just knew it. His eyes shut of their own accord, but then he heard a soft sigh then the door quietly click shut.

Lassie was gone, Shawn was wrong, apparently he was still human…ish. Shawn's knees flexed like jelly and he stumbled downward. He'd never been so scared, or so sad in his entire life. To be honest though, he was trying really hard not to run after him, there were so many questions. Way too many. And those were the questions that made thinking about existence seem like child's play.

Sleep was for the witches anyway…or was it the wicked? Oh well, he had heard it both ways.

Like expected, sleep didn't come. Morning hit and he was still in a daze. What should he do? Gus is gonna' want to know what was on that tape. Should he lie…yeah, that seems like the best option at the moment. It's either that, or Lassie's hands will start going all glowy-glowy and then there will be no more Shawn Spencer…Yeah, he's totally gonna' go with option number one.

Wiping the exhaustion from his eyes, ignoring the pins and needles in his legs, he starts to get up. He's certain he stashed some clothes in the office, but he just couldn't remember where. Sad really, he can remember what Jules had for breakfast 8 months ago, but Shawn couldn't remember where he shoved a clean shirt a week ago. Priorities, I guess.

After much searching, Shawn found what looked to be Gus' old plaid button up, that'll do. He finished changing and looked at the clock. 6:50, well, that's early. Maybe he could look into some old case files…He needed to know more about him. About Lassiter, he reaffirmed to himself, who was he before? What is he? Who is after him?

Why can't he actually be psychic? …He supposed it didn't matter anymore.


Lassiter laid in bed next to Marlowe, who snuggled closer to his chest. Contented in her slumber. He, on the other hand, had not slept a wink, his thoughts plagued him badly.

Why did he have to be so nosy? Marlowe understood he was different. He, the Father of Murder, was cursed to live a life of isolation. So why couldn't Spencer let sleeping dogs lie?

He shouldn't be surprised really, he decided to be a detective, to help save lives—he just wanted penance. It wouldn't be that out of line that a demon or two would stumble on what he's been up to. But if any of the knights were able to find him, Marlowe, his baby were now endangered. Shawn too, he supposed, would be in dire straits. That idiot knew too much for him to go unnoticed.

He sat up, Marlowe's arm flopped back onto the bed, she snored lightly, completely unaware of his turmoil.

"I'm so sorry, my love." He pushed a blonde lock out of her face, she nuzzled into his palm. He needed to leave before any connection was made to her or SBPD. He grabbed his sig and his badge, momentarily pausing to admire the reflective surface and the memories. He could stay for one more night he thought.

He just managed to close his apartment door, before he noticed a disconcerting sight of a frowning Shawn Spencer.

"Please Lassie, I just need to know…what are you?" Hazel eyes pled at blue. Sighing, he locked the door and addressed Spencer.

"You need to know?" His lips pulled into a frown matching Spencer's. "You already know too much, they are going to kill you. I will not have your blood on my hands, Spencer." Shawn had no idea what he was getting into, how much red was on his ledger already.

"Yes, I've already made my choice." His arms crossed across his chest, reminding me a lot of his father and one other man he met years ago. His resolve was crumbling, his damned humanity fought to the surface.

"I'll tell you, but there will be consequences, do you understand?" Brown hair bobbed enthusiastically, though his eyes were filled with terror. He opened his mouth to speak before he sensed a dark presence near the end of the hall, they needed to leave.

"Come with me, we need to leave now." He gripped Shawn's arm, dragging him towards the elevator. Lights flickered faintly and a low rumbling could be heard.

"W-what? Hold the pineapple express, Lassie, what's going on!?" He looked behind long enough to see Hank the janitor turn the corner. Like the tape footage, his eyes were black as Santa Monica night sky, Shawn was pretty sure Hank's eyes were blue.

"Cain!" Hank yelled and Lassiter stiffened. Cain, was that his actual name? Hank pulled out a gun and Shawn yelped. Suddenly he was thrown into the elevator, Lassiter's arm glowed vibrantly underneath his sleeve as the elevator closed shut.

Lassiter watched as the door shut, relieved Spencer wouldn't be caught in the cross fire this time. Hank started firing his gun, the bullets having no effect as they impacted Lassiter's chest. Thankfully, Most of the bullets were through and through. He stepped forward and Hank dropped the gun going in for that hand-to-hand combat.

To the demon's defense, he was fast, but he was sloppy. He thought Collette would have to forgive him this one last time as he plunged his hand into the janitor's chest. Hank's body flashed as he crumpled to the ground.

Hank's slayer stood above him, blood dripping from his arm and rage coursing through his veins.

"Calm down, just calm down…" he forced his breath through his nose, forced the burning rage back into its seal. He turned around to see Shawn standing right behind him, eyes wide open.

"Dammit Spencer, why didn't you stay in the elevator?!" he panicked as Shawn stumbled backward, hand wrapped around his side. Lassiter rushed to grab him before he fell.

"Shit! Shawn, stay with me!" He couldn't help it, flashbacks of Collette's death ran through his head, emotions other than rage started bubbling and he choked back frustration.

"S-sorry, I couldn't leave you…Dad-d always said I was stubborn." He hiccupped as pain lanced through his side. Lassiter pulled Shawn's hand away to assess the damage, noting sluggish bleeding meant the bullet didn't hit anything too vital. But, there was still a chance of bleeding out if left untreated. He just killed Hank, calling an ambulance would just get complicated, but Shawn would need attention.

"Shawn, you are going to have to trust me…" He looked for any sign of confirmation. Blurred hazel eyes blinked lazily as he nodded. "Ok…this is going to hurt." He held up a finger, blazing red with demonic energy.

Shawn barely had time to tense before an even more fiery pain erupted in his side. "Gah! Please, Lass…stop!" his hands gripped around Lassie's, only to have his hands scorched by the searing heat.

Eventually pain gave way to darkness and Shawn went limp against the floor. Carlton finished before loading him up in his arms. They needed a safe place to stay.

"Carlton?" Marlowe's voice came timidly from the doorway. He cursed at my luck.

"Honey, I need you to call 911. Hank…" She cut him off.

"Take Shawn and get out of here. I love you Carlton, but you're too dangerous to be around us. You made a promise to Collette and to me that this wouldn't happen…" Lassiter opened his mouth to explain himself, she held up a finger. "You have a lot to make up for. When he forgives you, I will forgive you. I'll wait until then, my husband." His heart was cleaved right into, his breath seemed to stop at her words. His daughter whimpered in her mother's arms, she bounced her gently.

"I'm sorry, Marlowe…I'm so sorry." She watched as he and Spencer vanished into thin air, tears cascading down her face.