Apparently nobody else has written one of these crossovers before, at least not in Fanfiction. I have the basic plot line worked out, but am still figuring out the finer details. Hopefully I will have it done before December, when Psych: The Movie comes out (happy dance).

As usual, I apologize for incongruities, inconsistencies, OOC moments, etc.

It was Reaping Day in District 12 (you saw that coming, didn't you?).

What you probably didn't see coming, though, was that this was the fiftieth year of the Hunger Games, and a Quarter Quell, meaning that something "special" would happen in the way of forcing a bunch of kids to kill each other-namely, there would be twice the number of tributes this year. Two boys, two girls from each district.

And I'm most definitely sure that you didn't see coming the bloodcurdling screams emanating from one of the houses in the Seam of District 12, down by the forest.

Shawn Spencer gave a frustrated grunt as he tugged on his best friend, trying to pry him loose from the door frame he was currently wedged in.

"Gus, come on, we need to do this."

"No no no no no!" Gus wailed, bracing his hands against the wood and digging in his heels for all he was worth. "They're gonna pick me I know it please Shawn I don't wanna die-"

"You're not gonna die! Your name's only in there like, ten times!"

"That's more than enough!"

Originally, Gus's parents had not allowed him to take tesserae, no matter how hungry they were, because they didn't want to risk losing their precious baby anymore than they had to. It was only last year that Gus had finally put his foot down and told them that 1) he refused to let his family starve if he could do something to prevent it, and 2) he was going to take tesserae whether they liked it or not. Shawn had been both proud and afraid for him for being willing to do that; right now, though, he was just exasperated.

"Gus-" he grunted, and gave another tug on his friend's waist- "the Peacekeepers are gonna come and take action if you don't go. They'll punish your mom and dad, or drag you out into the square and publicly humiliate your family. You gotta come with me now."

It seemed to be working; Gus was starting to release the tension in his arms. Then he paused again. "But-but maybe I could-"

At that point, though, his older sister Joy finally decided that enough was enough. She stormed over, blue dress swooshing around her calves, and grabbed her brother by the collar.

"Burton Guster, you are going out there and you are not going to hide in here like a baby and shame our family, do you understand me?!"

Gus let go of the door slowly, gave her a solemn nod. "Yes, Joy."

"Good." She fluffed her hair, and then noticed the look Shawn was giving her. "What?"

Shawn gave her a half grin, half leer. "You're so hot when you're being stern."

Emotions swished across Joy's face, looking somewhere between annoyed and flattered, before she finally glared. "Don't objectify me, Shawn." And she flounced out the front door.

Shawn smiled smugly-until he noticed Gus was glaring at him too, his previous fear forgotten for the moment.

"Just giving her a compliment."

His friend stalked past him. "Whatever, Shawn."

Everyone in the District had gathered in the square, wearing their nicest clothes and for once not being coated in coal dust. Shawn and the Gusters walked close together, until Joy had to go to her section of older girls. The boys got to stay in the same group of sixteen-year-olds, and were both rather relieved that they got to stand side by side in unspoken moral support.

As soon as everyone was settled, their escort stepped onto the stage, wearing a lime green suit and with his hair dyed a bright shade of white, making him blinding to look at in direct sunlight.

"Happy Hunger Games, District 12," growled Harris Trout.

Shawn squinted at him; he really didn't want to be there, despite the smile he was wearing. It was too insincere, veering more towards a grimace, despite the fact that escorts were supposed to always have a 'peppy' attitude towards their districts. Odds were he'd rather be back at the Capitol, or one of the wealthier districts, where there were more winners available. He'd probably been sent here because he'd done something to displease the president. Served him right; Trout was one of the most disagreeable, nasty people Shawn had ever encountered, and he was paranoid to crown it off. In a way, he was like District 12's only living victor, only more so.

Without further ado or anymore BS small talk, Trout just reached into one of the bowls on the table, the one with the girl's names in it. He unfolded a paper, squinted at it, and then read it aloud: "Gina Repach."

Shawn felt his stomach twist; he wasn't exactly fond of Gina, because her attitude towards him was at times a little creepy, but it wasn't like he wanted her dead either.

Gina stepped up onto the stage, and-giving credit where it's due-looking quite resolute. Trout gave her a cursory glance, and then pulled out the new name.

"Abigail Lytar."

That name caused more of a twist, as did the obvious horror in her eyes as she was led up next to Gina. Shawn had always thought Abigail was pretty cute-and if he was honest with himself, he was interested in her for more than just her looks, even if he hadn't ever worked up the nerve to say so. She was about the second person he wouldn't want to watch die in the Games.

He could feel Gus shaking next to him, trying to contain his emotions and not freak out in front of everyone because of the suspense-

Trout pulled out the first name for the boys, unwrapped it, and read, "Burton Guster."

And there was the first person.

Through the horror and the ringing in his ears, Shawn could see Gus glaring at him, as if it were somehow his fault that against the odds of all the other people's names who were in that bowl, his had been the unlucky one. Shawn knew he didn't mean it that way, that it was just the shock. And sure enough, after a moment Gus was, despite the deep brown color of his skin, looking absolutely ashen as the boys around them started to clear a path to let him go up the stairs to his doom.

No.

A few seconds later, Shawn was raising his hand and shouting, "I volunteer!"

There was a sort of collective gasp from everyone around, Gus included. He grabbed Shawn's arm and shook his head frantically, a sort of pleading No Shawn don't do this.

Shawn gently pushed him away, allowing the Peacekeepers to appear at his sides, lead him up onto the stage. It was only while they did so that he finally realized, Oh crap what did I just do Dad is going to kill me.

Trout gave him an appraising glare as he stepped up. "Who're you?"

He cleared his throat, managed to give everyone his most charming smile as he announced, "Shawn Spencer."

"So why did you volunteer, Shawn?" His tone of voice implied that he might as well have replaced his name with 'loser.'

"That's my best friend out there who you picked. And sorry, but I can't let you take him away; he's got a family who needs him-"

"Yeah, whatever, kid." Trout turned back to the bowl, and started digging around for the next name.

Shawn finally saw his dad, standing at the back of the crowd. He wasn't hard to find: the sun shone off his head as easily as it did off Trout's hair. Surprisingly, the look on his face wasn't anything like Shawn expected; instead of his "what have you gotten yourself into now you idiot" look that came whenever Shawn had narrowly escaped being whipped in the town square or similar escapades...if he didn't know any better he'd say that Henry Spencer looked...anguished. Shawn raised his arm and gave him a tiny wave.

Then he saw the paper unfolded in Trout's hands-and to his shock, Trout smiled thinly and said, "Looks like this isn't your lucky day...Burton Guster."

Until this point, Shawn hadn't exactly registered what he'd just done. All he'd known was that he couldn't let Gus be taken away to die in the Games, and that he had to protect him somehow, any how. The horror of what he was setting himself up for would probably have come in later, but he would have had the satisfaction of knowing his best friend was safe.

But now, as he watched Gus climb up by his side, looking like he was about to start either puking or crying, a few black spots swam before his eyes.

They were both being taken to the Games.

And he had sacrificed himself for nothing.

Yes, I know. I am evil. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha.

Stay tuned for the next chapter in this, the amazing Psych/Hunger Games Crossover "Playing for Laughs"!