A/N: So, I'll be updating this once daily until December 25th, when there will be two. Each chapter is one letter of the alphabet, and each chapter is one day's events. I hope you enjoy!

December 1st, 2010

"Gus!" Shawn stood at his friend's door, knocking several times. "Gus! C'mon man, open up!" There was no response. Shawn hopped back and forth between his legs, breath fogging out in front of him.

"Gu-us! I'm freezing out here," Shawn called imploringly. Again he was met with silence. Shawn wondered if Gus had finally gone through with his continguing threat of buying earplugs and a white noise machine. Shawn knocked one more time, then let his head fall against the door with a thunk.

"Fine, if you want to play it that way, get ready to lose like a fat kid playing dodgeball," he said, his eyes lighting up as he had an idea.

Shawn stepped away from the door, rubbing his hands together and deciding that he probably should've heeded that little voice in his head that had told him to wear a coat. With a squint, he realized that it sounded sort of like his dad, mom, Gus, and his elementary-school principal all rolled into one. Weird.

Hopping on his motorcycle, his hands shook as he turned the key. He drove along the still-dark road; it was only four o'clock in the morning. Ordinarily, he would probably still be asleep at this time. Or watching an occasional rebroadcast of I Love Lucy. But today was an exception. Today was important.

It took two cups of hot chocolate and thirty minutes, but Shawn finally found what he was searching for. With a mischeivous grin, he tucked it under the seat of his motorcycle and pulled on a coat. He bounded back to Gus's door and held up the bullhorn.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!" He called, his voice echoing through the street. He heard a crash from inside and chuckled. "One more time," he muttered.

"This is Tyra McGurglehopper calling for a Bruton Gaster," he said through the door, once again using the bullhorn. "Come on out, Bruton!"

The door opened and the bullhorn was snatched from his grasp by a wild-eyed, rumpled-looking Gus.

"What is wrong with you, Shawn? Someone's gonna call the cops on you!" He yanked the Psychic inside.

Shawn nodded. "You know, you really shouldn't have such noisy visitors. Maybe if you actually answered your door..."

"Shush, Shawn," Gus snapped, rolling his neck and sighing. "What do you want?"

"Don't you know what day it is?" Shawn asked, head tilting to one side.

"It's not day, it's night," said Gus, rolling his eyes.

"Actually, it's almost five now," countered Shawn with an innocent smile. "And that is definitely morning. But anyway." The psychic gave his friend a pointed look.

"Tell me what day it is, Shawn," Gus said flatly.

Shawn grinned. "It's December first!"

Gus groaned. "Shawn, you woke me up at four in the morning to tell me the months had changed?"

"Almost five," corrected Shawn lightly. "And it's not just any month. It's the start of the twenty-five days of Christmas, and I have a plan!"

"A plan?" Gus sounded mildly apprehensive. Shawn preferred to call it interested.

"Yes," said Shawn with an excited sparkle to his eyes. "And we've got to start right away."

"We can start when the sun is up," Gus said. "And give me back my bullhorn, I don't know why you have it anyway." He snatched it away.

"Alright, Gussyface. Get your sleep, I'll see you at 0800 hours."

Gus let out a sigh of relief as Shawn left. A moment later, the psychic poked his head back in.

"What time is 0800 hours, again?" He asked, an innocent expression.

"Not that again. Just go, Shawn!"

Shawn smiled slightly to himself as he left, looking up at the sky. This was going to be fun.