AN: Ah, my first psych fic. I'm so proud. lol...

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Twas the night before Halloween and all through Lassie's house, Shawn Spencer was stalking like a poorly trained mouse.

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He snuck through a window, jimmied open by a credit card.

A whisper of "Awesome, dude that worked!" accompanied him, and to his right Gus gave a groan. He didn't want to be any part of this, he really didn't but Shawn had been determined to make Lassiter appreciate the horror of Halloween.

Although breaking into the house of a trigger happy cop – whose trigger would prefer to pull once aimed at Shawn more than anyone – was not the makings of a good plan. In fact Gus would call it a recipe for disaster, he had in fact called it that out loud, but Shawn had grinned at him with an even more purposeful stride towards his car with Gus's keys in his hand. Gus was helpless to follow. There was no way in hell he was going to let Shawn drive. And now he was sneaking through a window to Lassiter's house. All because of Shawn!

"Come on, Shawn. Lassiter will kill you." He tried to make him see reason, he didn't want to spend years in prison – and that was only if he was lucky. He wouldn't do well in prison. He didn't have the temperament. And there was no way he could make it in the Big House.

"Dude, he so will not."

"Shawn I do not want to get shot! Lassiter probably sleeps with a gun under his pillow." Gus could imagine it well. Lassiter hearing a creaking floorboard as they carefully made their way through the house, but not careful enough, would let the cop instinct take over. He would slip downstairs, turn and corner and see them – nothing but shadows; burglars as far as he was concerned. And then...

BANG! BANG! He'd be dead. So would Shawn. And all because of a stupid prank; it was not a fitting end. His perfect credit would all be for nothing!

"Probably in his clenched fist, finger on the trigger." Shawn added, as he rummaged – noisily – through a drawer. Gus eyes widened, panicked, as he glanced between the drawer Shawn's hands were racketing through and the stairs, anxiously praying his death scene would not come to pass.

"Shawn! That is not helping!" He whispered harshly, slapping at Shawn's hand, "Will you keep it down? He might wake up."

"Dude, please. He won't." Shawn scoffed, opening the fridge," Ooh, pineapple!" He turned to Gus excited, "Did you know Lassie liked pineapple?"

He rolled his eyes, "And why would Lassiter not wake up?"

Shawn smiled at him, turning his head, "Well, I did make a little phone call."

Gus waited for him to go on. When he didn't he found the sudden urge to shout, "Shawn!" The regretted it instantly, glancing at the stairs, "Oh no, I'm going to die."

"You are not. Lassiter's not even here."

Gus blinked, "What?"

"He's not here." Shawn repeated, as he moved to get a knife to slice up the pineapple. A feat not well accomplishable in the dark, "You know where Lassie would keep a knife?" He turned, not getting an answer to see Gus walking away, although he did look more like a blurred mass of shadow. He moved his hand to the light switch, flipping it on. The black shadow grew defined and in colour. If only they could do that with old movies then he would so watch them. "Gus! Where are you going?" Gus didn't answer, "Come on! Get back here!"

"No way Shawn!" He threw up his hands, impatient, "I just climbed through a window, thinking I was going to get killed. And you didn't even think to tell me that he wasn't even here."

He shrugged, "Well, I could've but I needed to make sure."

With that, Gus turned on the spot, "And how did you make sure?"

"We're still alive, aren't we? If Lassie was here we so would have been dead as soon as we got on the porch." He threw out his hands, white teeth gleaming as he smiled, "We should rejoice at that fact! Now we can get on with Operation Lassie-Pumpkin-face."

"No way Shawn!" He took a step forward, raising his finger to exaggerate his point, "I am not – and I repeat NOT – going to get killed by Lassiter."

Shawn nodded, "Yes..." He spoke slowly and then paused, waiting. When nothing came, he continued, "Now that's out of the way-"

"No Shawn!"

Shawn's face fell, "But I didn't even get to ask."

"No. I'm serious. No."

"But-"

"No Shawn!"

"Dude! Come on! Gus, we only get one chance at this!" He had on the face. Gus knew it well. Anytime he wanted something that look would cross his face, and somehow sooner or later Gus would fold. Well, not this time!

"I mean it Shawn, no!" He crossed his hands over his chest, "I will leave you behind."

"Fine!" He shouted back like a petulant child, "Go then! See if I care!"

"Fine I will!"

He gave Shawn one last irritated look before he turned and purposefully walked straight out of the door, leaving a sullen looking fake psychic detective behind.

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He sat with a pineapple, he sat with whipped cream, and once they were eaten he went on to saltines. All the while, Gus Burton sat in a blue echo outside. And with no engine started, he let out a sigh, resigning himself to the knowledge that he was soon going to die. And so he got out and went to back inside.

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"I knew you wouldn't leave me!" Shawn exclaimed happily, munching on a saltine, as Gus begrudgingly walked back inside.

Gus merely groaned in response.

Shawn jumped off of the battered thing Lassiter called a couch, "Come on, it'll be fun."

"Dying is not in my definition of fun." Gus replied.

"Well neither is-" He paused, eyes widened as he quickly motioned for Gus to keep quiet, "Do you hear-"

CRASH! The sound of Lassiter's boot banging against his door as he kicked it open interrupted Shawn's sentence.

"SPENCER!"

"-that?" Shawn finished lamely, sticking his hands up in the air as Carlton Lassiter came straight for him. He then mocked whispered, "Gus! Run! Save yourself!"

Gus was already running out the door by the time he had finished his sentence. Lassiter let him go, mainly so he could have Spencer to himself. Nothing said punishment like an interrogation with no one to save you.

"Gus! Come back! I didn't mean it!" He shouted, gulping at the look on Lassiter's face. Also the fact his gun was still drawn was a little disconcerting. And by little, he meant a lot! "Come on, Gus! So not cool!"

"What are you doing trespassing in the house of a Head Detective of the SBPD?"

"Lassieface, I know your job title." He edged towards the door, "You mention it like-"

"Answer the question!"

"I was..." He let out a grin, lacking its normal ease, "Admiring the furniture?" He waved a hand over the couch, "Really? Did it come straight out of the 80's or did you pick it up in a police auction? Seriously! Lassie, two words: IKEA."

Lassiter frowned, "That's one word."

Shawn took a moment in response to look confused, "It is?" He paused to think, "One word Lassie: IKEA." He grinned, nodding, "It does wonders." Shawn glanced over his shoulder towards the open door; he spotted Gus desperately trying to get his car to start. The sound of an engine spluttering to life alerted Shawn to the fact his ride was leaving.

He had two options. One: he stay and face the consequences, and most likely, die a slow and painful death. Or two: He run for his life screaming like a little girl.

He took one last look at Lassie's face before going for the latter. His high pitched scream echoes down the street as he nosedived through the open window to Gus's car, adding to his screams, "DRIVE GUS! DRIVE! HE HAS A GUN! HE'S NOT AFRAID TO USE IT!"

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Twas the night before Halloween and outside Lassie's house, Shawn Spencer was screaming with the cowardice of a mouse.

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Carlton Lassiter smiled as he holstered his gun. There was no better way than to get Spencer out of his hair than scaring the wits out of him. A few days at the department 'Spencer-free' was a great thing; just in time for the Halloween loons to come out of the shadows and be arrested by him for obstruction of justice. He could practically smell law and order in the air.

With that thought in mind, he let out a peaceful sigh and went inside.

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AN: I'm thinking of adding another chapter to this because nothing says 'Operation Lassie-Pumpkin-Face' better than Shawn Spencer and revenge.