*cowers* Please don't kill me? I come bearing gifts! A twist in the plot! An extra (two) characters! Come on, you guys like plot twists, right?

Death waited calmly. Sadly his Other had taken over for the time being, but that could change easily. Funny what Yin had done with the pictures, taking them and pasting them all over the psychic's wall. A nice touch, one worthy of a master. Death marveled in Yin's style; flashy and terrifying at the same time. Amazing what a scrapbook design could do.

He longed to rest for a while but he was too busy spying on the psychic. His detective and agent friends have arrived, and the look on his face was priceless. Death wasn't even getting warmed up yet, and already he had the psychic's nerves riled beyond comparison. This was probably his best work, without a doubt.

As the psychic discussed his next move with his friends, Death sat back, plans forming in his mind. How much could the psychic take before Death killed him? Or even better; what if Death took him for a host? The perfect cover! A suave, half-assed skirt-around-the-rules do-gooder! Nobody would ever suspect him.

Sadly, however, he couldn't choose his Others. They flocked to him like moths to a flame, a dangerous attraction that made him more deadly than any animal, more predatory than any human. Sometimes they knew he was inside of him and he was forced to move again. This body may've been trustworthy-looking, and completely unaware of his presence, but he didn't have the freedom that a psychic did.

Death wondered if being psychic would give him even more advantages while he was out and about doing his job. But then, what would happen if the psychic figured out he was there? What if he did something, like contact a priest or someone to drive him out?

Of course, it took more than a priest or preacher to force him to move. He was Death, after all, not just some demon. In fact, he'd never even met a demon before. They probably didn't exist.

Without warning, Death's vision from his Other began to fade. He scowled, mentally crossing his arms. His Other was an odd one, sometimes able to block him from monitoring his actions from the inside until Death was able to catch up again. This had happened last time, right after he'd gotten the camera from Kelsey Aberdeen. He'd taken control again, but somehow his Other had managed to travel all the way across town to land in an unfamiliar hotel room.

It was exhausting.

Death decided that, as soon as he killed the psychic, he was switching hosts.

Yin.

Juliet's breath caught in her throat. Memories came flooding back violently, hitting her again and again. Shawn immediately caught her eyes and reached a hand out to steady her as she rocked back on her heels.

"Jules?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine," she assured him, taking in a deep breath.

"Yin," Maya repeated, looking baffled. "The partner serial killer to Yang, that Yin?"

"The FBI knows him?" Lassiter whirled on her, pointing a finger in her face. "They know about what he did?"

Turnbow placed a protective hand on Maya's shoulder and pulled her back a bit, glaring at the Detective. "We have a file on him and Yang," he said. "I've never been assigned to his case, however, and Agent Rodriguez only joined a few months ago, after the Yin incident with Detective O'Hara."

"But you did know about it," Shawn jumped in.

Turnbow hesitated. "I read the file, yes. It's part of my job; I'm a profiler. But it was never my case. It was—" His face darkened suddenly.

Shawn saw the expression change and his hand flew to his temple. "Oh, I'm sensing a rival. You wanted the Yin case, and someone else got it. Who?"

"It's nobody—"

"No, it isn't," Maya interrupted. She leveled a glare at her partner, who flushed and averted his gaze. Turning to regard Shawn, she said, "We were finishing up a case a few cities over with Jake's nemesis, Mark Hartford."

"He's not my nemesis," Turnbow started to say, but another glare from Maya cut him off.

"He was an undercover agent," Shawn continued, fingers still pressed to his temple in a psychic pose. "He helped take down a violent cult that sacrificed young girls, am I right?"

"Yes, exactly right," Maya said, beaming at him. "We were sent in to identify the ringleader through our profiles, but when the arrest went down, Agent Hartford got the glory while we were immediately sent here to help out with this Horseman case."

"Is it possible that Yin is the Horseman?" Gus wanted to know.

Maya and Turnbow glanced at each other, and then together said, "Not likely." Turnbow continued with, "Yin is in control, a lot more experienced with killing people. Plus, the pictures seem to be claiming Shawn, like a custody battle, so it's more likely that there really are two different killers, assuming that Yin killed one of them."

Juliet was already shaking her head by the end of the sentence. "Yin leaves his mark," she said darkly. "He would've shown us it was him."

"I think he did," Shawn said. He pointed toward the wall. "All the pictures that were taken at night are on the right side."

"And all the pictures taken during the day are on the left," Gus finished, peering at the wall in awe. "Plus, there's a little circle of light ones in the dark side, and dark ones in the light side. It's a giant, wall-sized yin-yang."

"That would've taken a hell of a lot of time to do," Lassiter growled. "Spencer, do you think you could…" He paused, scowling, and gestured towards the younger man's head.

"Go on, Lassie," Shawn said, grinning in spite the situation, "you can say it. Two syllables. Di-vine."

"You know what I mean," the older man snapped. "See if you can pick up which picture is the most recent and what time it was taken. We'll need a timeline, and maybe we can figure out how they got this up so fast."

"On it, Lassifrass," Shawn said, turning back toward the wall. He'd already noticed the picture, but remembering exactly what time it was and where would take another thirty seconds or so. He spotted it, Maya heading to her car and Gus and him heading towards theirs so they could show her where the smoothie place was. That had been at about three o' clock. They'd chatted for two hours and then headed to the Psych office to show Maya around.

"There," he said, pointing at the picture. "This was almost four hours ago."

"Four hours?" Maya frowned. "But there's evidence that Death killed Kelsey Aberdeen. Yin couldn't have taken the pictures unless Death had given the camera to him at exactly that time, which isn't possible because it was Death's sign on Aberdeen's forehead. They both would've had to have been there."

"Which is highly unlikely for competitive serial killers," Turnbow added. "There're too many loose ends. If it was Death who killed Aberdeen and took the pictures afterwards, why did he give the pictures to Yin, and how?"

"Or if it was Yin who killed Aberdeen," Maya continued, "why would he put Death's sign on her forehead?"

"So where does that leave us?" Juliet interrupted. "Shawn's been 'claimed', or whatever, by Yin, right? So what does that mean? Was this a warning for Death, or a warning for us?"

"Death is going to retaliate, more likely than not," Turnbow said. "And if this is what Yin had in mind of doing, Death will go all out." He looked at Shawn, dead serious. "From now on, you need to be in protective custody."

"Hold up," Shawn protested, but Lassiter was already nodding.

"Turnbow's right, Spencer," he said emphatically. "Death's going to come after you just to prove that he can. This can turn up to be an all-out war between serial killers, and you're right smack in the middle of it. You need a guard on you at all times."

"Guys—" Shawn started to say, but then a new voice interrupted.

"I call the psychic!"

A man stepped into the room, grinning. He was tall, with curly, sandy blonde hair, warm brown eyes, and an easy smile that quickly turned into an amused smirk as Turnbow groaned behind Shawn. The man stepped right up to the pseudo psychic and grabbed his hand, pumping it up and down rapidly, nearly shaking Shawn's arm off.

"The name's Agent Hartford," he said eagerly. "Never met a psychic before. Pleased to make your acquaintance. "

"What are you doing here?" Turnbow growled, stepping up to Hartford.

Hartford flashed him a grin. "Director Gordon sent me over to help out. Yin was my case, after all."

"One you failed," Turnbow said slowly through gritted teeth. "I told Gordon that Maya and I could handle this."

"Do I get an opinion in this?" Shawn demanded, exasperated. "Look, FBI dudes, I know how to take care of myself. And neither Yin nor Yang has ever gone for me specifically, right?"

"We don't know that, Spencer," Lassiter scowled. "And as much as I hate it, our number one priority is your safety."

"Aw, you care, Lassie!"

"I care about my job, Spencer, not you."

"Lassiter's right, Shawn," Juliet said quietly. "We just want you to be safe."

Shawn opened his mouth to argue, and then a tinkling ring echoed throughout the room. Shawn sighed as he checked the caller i.d. "It's my dad," he told everyone. "Continue discussing my freedom without me, since you seemed to be doing so well before."

He stormed out of the room, leaving behind a stunned Gus and Juliet. "He's not usually like this," Juliet told the agents after the awkward pause.

"It's understandable," Maya said.

Hartford shrugged. "I've seen what Yin does to his victims."

Lassiter, Juliet, and Gus stiffened at the same time, glaring at him. Gus responded first, pulling himself to his full height. "Shawn is not a victim," he said firmly. After a beat of silence he left, headed out the door where Shawn had disappeared a minute earlier.

"Mark," Turnbow sighed. "This is my case—"

"And I'll let you take point," Hartford promised, fixing him with a steady stare. "The Director just wants an extra eyes. Just in case."

The way Turnbow held Hartford's gaze sent shivers down Juliet's spine. She could hear the double meaning behind his words, the promise that Hartford wasn't just watching out for Shawn, but for Turnbow and Rodriguez as well.

He was warm.

For the first time, he actually felt warm. It was disorienting, after so long of being bare-chested, coated in cold sweat, damp from the blood and his frequent 'baths' that he could actually be warm, hot even. Starting in his chest the warmth worked its way up to his shoulders and face, to his fingers and toes and leaving them tingling, stinging, almost, as the blood rushed into them.

Gently he pried his eyes open. He was still lying on the table. He always seemed to be lying on the table. More warmth touched his face like the flittering of fingers from a desert-blown wind, pressure on his eyelids and slipping them closed again. His lips parted, the question on his lips, but a quiet voice shushed him instead.

"Sleep, now, American," the voice whispered, in very lightly accented English. A hand ran through his grimy, blood-clotted hair. The woman—girl, whoever—traced his cheek with her finger gently, lovingly. "No need to worry now. Just sleep."

He complied gratefully. With her gentle voice in his ear he floated, away from the man who was Death himself, away from the table and the noose where his feet were bound and he was hung upside-down, away from the smell of blood that intruded his sinuses; his blood.

For a second, he allowed himself to believe he was safe at last.

Jacob Turnbow was really sick of Mark Hartford.

He had ten years on the kid, and he'd been in the FBI for almost that long, too. Just because Hartford had come in half-cocked ready to blow a drug bust to smithereens and managed to take in the largest shipment of heroin and cocaine than anyone in the Bureau didn't mean he was ready to overlook Jake's investigations.

Hell, he'd closed fourteen cases since he came back from Afghanistan. That kid had been dishonorably discharged after the fiasco the Navy would never live down, while Jake had gotten a Purple Heart. And Director Heil was assigning the kid to keep an eye on him?

It made him burn up inside. And Maya—Maya didn't deserve the constant supervision. On slip-up; and Jake had already torn her a new one for the mistake, anyways. He was pretty sure she was beating herself up about it as it was. She didn't need the jerk eyeing her like she was going to get someone killed again. Hartford was almost younger than Maya herself. He'd only been in the Bureau for a year, and a third of that time was spent undercover. One frickin' slip-up.

He sighed as he walked towards his car. Maya had decided to stay with the two detectives and Hartford to make peace, or whatever the sweet girl did. Jake smiled fondly, thinking of her. She was so full of spirit, it made him feel old. Almost forty—damn, he was getting too old for this crap. Maybe he should retire.

Immediately he dismissed the thought. After Helen, he didn't think he could ever stop moving, ever stop catching the bad guys and bringing them to justice.

Jake's heart ached. Helen's face flashed in front of his eyes and he sat back in the seat, weary. How could he even think about retiring when her killer was still out there? Hell, he could still remember, ten years later, holding her in his arms as she bled out. Helen, his gorgeous, beautiful wife, had been murdered in their own house.

His grief was unmatchable. Not even four years in the Army had washed away the pain, although Lord knew the years were a complete fiasco that only added to the grief. At least he had Hartford to blame for that. Kid shouldn't even have been cleared for combat, let alone that high priority rescue mission.

Sighing, he reached into his pocket for the pills. Honestly, he probably didn't need them; what trauma could he take back from the disaster in Afghanistan? It was more exasperating than traumatizing, and he honestly didn't remember most of it. Still, doctor's orders. Every soldier got them, no matter how hard of a time they had in war.

His pocket was empty. Frowning, Jake looked in the other one, and then his slacks' pockets, before three quick raps on his window brought him back. Hartford stood outside, smirking. Jake's eyes rolled and he sighed, rolling the window down.

"You forgot these," Hartford said mischievously, handing him the orange bottle with the white cap.

Jake scowled at him, reaching up to grab the pills from his hand. This was the second time he'd forgotten his pills someplace and Hartford had to retrieve them. He was pretty sure the younger agent was stealing them, just to get on his nerves.

Hartford leaned away for a second, locking eyes with Jake. "Look," he said firmly, "this wasn't my idea, alright? Three heads are better than two, or at least, that's what Director Heil said. I just spent three and a half months undercover in a cult, and all I want is to go back to Virginia and sleep the year away. But I can't. I'm here, so let's at least make the most of it." He made sure he had Jake's attention before giving him a crooked smile. "Truce?"

Jake softened, just a little bit. It was true, though; Hartford had been away from home for an extended period of time, and he didn't deserve being sent to watch Jake and Maya just because the Director was concerned that something like the last case would happen again. And Hartford, as cocky and foolish as he was, was only twenty-eight. He was still a kid.

"Truce," he said, watching a triumphant smirk pass over Hartford's face as the younger man handed his pills over. With a quick wave he disappeared back into the Psych office.

Unscrewing the cap, Jake downed a pill dry and started the car.

He'd head back to the hotel and dig up his files on Yin, and then call in and have a chat with Director Heil. Something told him there was way more going on than just a routine check-up.

"Dad, you can't do that!" Shawn protested, arms uncrossing.

"The hell I can't," Henry snapped, scrubbing the dish like it was Shawn's face and he was wringing it. "I told you I was pulling you off the case at the first sign of danger, and I think this counts."

"He is under protective custody, Mr. Spencer," Gus pointed out.

Henry snorted. "By whom? The FBI? Need I remind you the last time we tangled with the FBI? Shawn was almost killed, Gus. Or, is it the SBPD! Yin got to Juliet, Shawn. He got to Abigail, and Abigail had a cop already on her. Hell, O'Harra is a cop, and he got to her. What makes you think he won't get to you, too?"

"How is taking me off the case going to protect me?" Shawn countered. "I don't know if you noticed, but serial killers don't pack up their stuff when their targets get grounded." He threw his hands up in the air mockingly. "Oh, looks like Shawn's dad is sending him to his room, guess we better go home now!"

"Shawn-"

"Dad, if I'm not out there catching this guy, more people are going to die," Shawn yelled, frustrated. "I have to do this!"

Henry felt like he was talking to a brick wall. "But Shawn-"

"You can't control me anymore. I don't care if you are my boss; I can quit just as easily as you hired me."

"Dammit, Shawn, I can't lose you!"

The declaration left the three in stunned silence, Henry's brow pushed together with the worry only a father could have. Shawn looked upset, really upset this time like how normal people usually look instead of his stony silence. Taking a breath, Shawn wiped his face, looking tired. Damn, the kid wasn't looking like such a kid anymore. When had he grown up so fast?

"Look, Dad," Shawn said carefully, "pulling me off isn't going to help any. It'll just make it easier for someone to catch up with me, whether it's Death or Yin or whoever. You trained me yourself, so it'll probably be quicker if I stay on the case and catch Death, and if I'm lucky, maybe catch Yin, too. I'll be fine; we've got FBI agents looking after me and the entire SBPD with eyes glued to the back of my head. You don't have to worry, okay?"

For a long time, Henry didn't say anything. His heart soared with both pride and fear, although he couldn't tell exactly which one was the more dominate feeling. Gus, wisely, decided to stay out of the argument like he always had. Shawn stared at him apprehensively, as if afraid of the answer.

Finally, Henry sighed. "Alright." The two's elated sighs of relief were ruined by his mischievous, "But you're telling your mother."

Shawn groaned.

Yang sat alone in her cell. The TV was on; gosh, she had a TV! Her doctor said she was a good girl and that's why they let her have one, which was nice. Nobody ever came and visited just to talk except for her doctor and the bingo lady from across the street and Yang tired of the pointless banter between her and her doctor and the bingo lady went on and on about her games. Quite frankly, Yang was pretty sure the bingo lady was even crazier than she was.

The news was on the TV screen, and a certain name caught Yang's attention. A smile formed on her lips even before she recognized the picture on the screen.

"Shawn Spencer," she said aloud, savoring the name on her lips. He had such an elegant name. She wondered if he knew that, or if he took it for granted? Yang never really had a name; or maybe she did and didn't remember. Yang couldn't remember a lot of things these days.

The news anchor was fake, like all of them were, but the story was interesting. A new development in a case? A serial killer who named himself Death? The possible involvement of Yin?

Now that caught her attention. Yin wouldn't come out so soon, not after only four months of laying low! Oh, her silly Yin; if he really was coming out and going for Shawn again it must've been for a good reason. Yin never did anything without a reason; in fact, he only went after Shawn Spencer because she insisted. That was probably why Shawn was still alive, too, because Yang insisted.

Insisted… resisted, sisted, sisted, sisted. Yang giggled. Funny word, insisted.

Wonderful! If Yin really had come out of hiding, then that surely meant Shawn would be back to talk to her! Yang clapped her hands, drawing a few looks from the guards outside her cell.

"Shawnee's coming back," she told them, but they paid her no attention. Nobody paid her any attention, except for her doctor and the bingo lady. Although the bingo lady probably wasn't paying attention to her at all. Maybe she talked incessantly to all crazy killers.

Yang smiled to herself about that one. Killers. Gosh, what a secret! What a doozy of a secret to keep! Quietly she zipped her lips to no one but herself, promising to keep it.

Oh, and Shawn paid her attention. She bet he'd read her book. He was probably on his way here right now.

Yang hummed to herself and started to braid her hair. "Shawnee's coming to see me, oh, Shawnee's coming to see me…"