A/N: Ok, this story came to mind and onto paper during study hall after finishing the homework I'd had. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Lassiter groaned as he turned over in his bed. He hoped that by wishing the ringing away it would stop, but he had no such luck.

"Lassiter." He said groggily into the phone.

"Lassie, sorry 'bout calling so late." He didn't register Shawn's voice or apology, all he knew was that his least favorite person had woken him up in the middle of the night.

"What do you want, Spencer?" he questioned venomously.

"I need to talk to you."

"Spencer, do you know what time it is?"

"No, what time is it?" Lassiter did note this time the lack of humor in his voice.

"It's 3:30 in the morning." He waited for a joke to come, to hear him suddenly laugh because he knew all along the time and had just called to annoy him. No laugh came.

"It is? That's impossible."

"How's that impossible?"

"Because it was only 11:30 last time I checked."

"Are you drunk or high, Spencer?"

"I wish." Lassiter sensed a note of agony in his voice.

"Spencer, why did you call?" he dragged a hand over his face.

"I told you, I need to talk to you."

"Then talk."

"Not on the phone. Meet me at the bench where you eat lunch." Lassiter heard a click and then a dial tone. Shawn had hung up.

A part of him wanted to ignore that the call had just happened and to just go back to sleep, but another part of it wanted to find out what was up. As much as he disliked the childish man he had a sense that more than a practical joke was going on.

He got up, threw a pair of jeans on and a jacket over his white t-shirt and grabbed his phone, keys and wallet. Before he met up with Shawn he had one stop to make, the 24-hour coffee shop. He wasn't going to meet up with the guy running on only three hours of sleep, because that was just about all that he had had before the call, without a caffeine boost.

As he pulled into a parking spot, he could see what he'd sort of designated as his own bench. There was someone sitting on it and he assumed that it was Shawn. Grabbing his coffee he got of his car and went over to him.

"Spencer." He said, not moving to sit down next to him.

"Lassie."

"So, why the call at 3:30 in the morning. I swear if this is someā€¦."

"You ever kill a man?" Shawn cut him off and surprised him.

"Why?" he replied cautiously.

"Just curious. That coffee?" he asked, suddenly noticing the steaming cup in a standing Lassiter's hand.

"Yeah. So, why am I here?"

"Bring me any?" he asked, ignoring Lassiter's question.

"No. Now, I ask again, why am I here?"

"I'm turning myself in." the statement shocked Lassiter even more than the question about killing someone.

"Why?"

"How much blood is in a man?" Shawn asked, ignoring Lassiter's question. He was looking at his hands.

"I'm not sure. Spencer, what in the name of sweet justice is going on?"

"I had one beer that's it and not even the whole thing. I was talking to the bar tender when she came up; she was beautiful. Blonde hair, blue eyes, asked me to tell her how I did it. Told her something and then excused myself, when I came back there was a note and a shot. I can't remember what the note said, Lassie, what did it say?"

"Did you kill her?" he asked, accusingly.

"I don't know, I might've, what if I did? All I know is that there's blood, a lot of it. Lassie?"

"What?"

"Did I kill her?"

To be continued...