Hey, its Bad Wolf, bringing you a Psych fic. This is new and interesting stuff! I actually wrote this as a short story about a guy named Eli who I based on Shawn, minus pretending to be psychic. But I modified it! It's better as a fic, I think. Enjoy. c:


The minister ruffled reverently through the dusty pages of his leatherbound text, keeping all of his small town attendees in rapture while Shawn Spencer dozed slightly under the warm light filtering through the stained glass. On finding the exact right verse, he opened it dramatically, then intoned it with much ceremony to a small chorus of "Amen!"s and "Praise him!"s. The minister's voice filled the sanctuary, bouncing off all the varnished wood that formed the church to deliver religion to the ears of the townies.

It wasn't until he snapped the Bible shut for maximum effect that Shawn woke sharply. He glanced to his left to find his best friend glaring at him. He grinned sheepishly. Gus shook his head and mouthed some threats before turning back towards the sermon.

Shawn bowed his head for the parting prayer, battling in his head with the comments he longed to say, ones that could possibly win an internal bet by getting Gus to disrupt the service himself with laughter. Somehow, he managed to keep his mouth shut and pretend to pay attention through the prayer and parting comments. Something did catch his attention though, when the stately man finished the sermon.

"And before we part, please join us in the lobby for a bit of food and conversation, to celebrate the coming Christmas holiday."

As the minister ended the service and the twenty odd people started buzzing with conversations of enlightenment, Shawn's mind focused on one thing: free food!

"Shawn, you can't sleep in church!" Gus.

"Just did. You mean physically unable, or morally frowned on? Because I find myself breaking barriers."

Gus glared at him. Shawn steepled his fingers and nodded piously.

Gus paused a moment. "You're thinking about cookies right now, aren't you?"

"Aboslutely not!" Shawn sniffed. In truth he was thinking about brownies. He told Gus so.

Gus snorted. "Alright, fine. Let's go. I could do with some food."

The two were almost the last ones to leave the sanctuary - only a harried looking middle aged woman was behind them, trying to mop up a bit of spilled coffee, as they entered the similarly decorated lobby. This room was even more confined than the previous, so the smell of dust was almost unbearable to Shawn. The dark wood everywhere, coupled with the stained industrial carpet made for a very strange effect, but one that Shawn was able to ignore in the presence of brownies.

He crammed one of the little square in his mouth, grabbing two more, and just let the conversation wash over him. Gus networked in a corner of the group with the church choir while a knot of older women stood near Shawn, discussing someone's affair with someone else.

Ouch.

Shawn scarfed two more brownies while the women inadvertantly informed him that someone had found out about someone else, and that someone was in for quite a beating. Shawn was on his fourth brownie and the women, casting furitive glances towards the corner, on the other foul aspects of someone when it happened.

Shawn looked up upon hearing a very strange, almost choking sound. The shabby looking man who'd been sitting in front of Shawn during the service was in a bit of a clearing in the lobby, dazed and confused. He made the noise again, tried to take a step, and ended up stumbling forward. He opened and closed his mouth helplessly a few times, then fell into a little pile.

The room was silent for a moment. Everyone stared.

Shawn was the first to jump into action, stuffing the last of the brownie into his mouth then rushing over to the man and kneeling beside him. The rest of the room could only stir slightly, but Gus was only a moment behind him.

Shawn flipped the middle-aged man over. His eyes were shut peacefully, and his mouth open a little bit, like maybe he'd just had one drink too many. Shawn quickly checked his pulse and determined that such was not the case.

"He's dead," Shawn called out matter-of-factly, prizing the styrofoam cup from the man's hand.

Gasps filled the lobby. One man from the corner shouted, "I'll call the police!" Shawn looked up at Gus as he sniffed the cup, eyebrows raised.

"Roger Neil, insurance exec." Gus looked a bit frightened. "I knew him, Shawn! He fundraised with -" but Shawn cut him off with a snap of his fingers.

"Got it!" Now things were starting to get interesting!

Shawn stood and addressed the room at large. "Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Shawn Spencer, and I am the Santa Barbara Police Deparment's head consulting psychic. Also their only consulting psychic. This is my associate, Burton Guster, as in 'His name is Guster and he dances with the band' - "

"Shawn! A man is dead!"

"Oh. Yeah." He sighed. "Right. Anyway. One person in this room killed this poor man!" He indicated the man lying dead on the ground.

Shawn smiled. "And I know who it is."