This story will be Shawn-centric. And when I say it, I mean it. Gang will be complete, but I will focus on Shawn, his thoughts, his feelings. It takes place somewhere in the first half of the season 5, so Shawn is not in any established relationship. So definitely no Shules. I'm evil. I like hurting Shawn. I don't like romance. Romance has no place in this story, just friendship. Consider yourself warned.


Friday 7th

Not again. Please, not again. He felt the grip and he felt the touch, touch that couldn't be mistaken for anything else. It was touch from his nightmares, touch from his past, touch he couldn't feel again. It wasn't possible, because He couldn't be back, all that was in the past, past that is locked away behind the massive metal fire-water-sound-and-most-definitely-bullet-proof doors. And yet he felt it. And it felt all the same. The terror and paralyzing fear fought to overcome him, but he couldn't give up. Because that couldn't happen again. He won't let it happen again. So he fought, but the grip on his neck only tightened, accompanied with satisfied chuckle from his assailant. His carotides were mercilessly compressed and his brain was shutting down from the lack of oxygen. He knew he had only few seconds left, so he made one last attempt. With all his power he had left he kicked behind him. To his surprise, his guess where His leg would be was right. Even if he didn't feel that he hit the bone, the cry of pain was unmistakable. And the fact that the grip was loosened up told him he kicked Him really hard. He took advantage of His pain and slipped out of the hold. Once he was free, he stumbled, but he managed to regain balance. He didn't look back and ran, blindly and desperately hoping that for once the same idiot who arranged his past kidnappings, tortures and gunshot wounds was on the vacation. But his hopes didn't last long. As soon as he turned around the corner he was met with malicious blow to his stomach. He groaned and felt to his knees. The pain was so excruaciating that for a moment he thought he just met Bizarro Iron Man. Not Superman. Because it definitely felt like he was hit with solid metal. So it could be dude in metal suit. Maybe a truck. Or armoured tank. He was hit again, this time in his side, and he fell to the ground. Yep. Definitely tank. Yes, he knew it was nonsense. That it couldn't be tank. Or truck. It could still be Biz.. wait, that's too long. Bizzon Man. Okay, that didn't come out like I expected. But maybe it was bison. He imagined that being hit by bison must be similar to being hit by tank. So it was valid option. Either Bizzon Man. Or Bison Man. What a wonderful choice. Could be only one of them. And the other one could come along and pick a fight with the first. That would be so epic.. they would even make another shitty movie out of it. Or maybe he himself is Bison Man. And all he needs to do is find his source of power within the very core of his heart and then he would kick his ass.

But then again, it could be neither and he was just trying to escape reality where he was currently beaten – probably to death – with metal something. And once that thought ran through his mind his fantasies disappeared. Damn it. His mind was his biggest enemy, really. Although he could escape from reality, locking himself in his mind, it never did last for long. And when he returned to the cruel real world, it was always worse than before he zoned out. So there he was, laying on the ground barely consciousness, but unfortunately very well aware of what was happening. Beating stopped, but that didn't make him feel better. He knew what was coming and he would rather take far worse beatings every day, thank you very much, than that. But he hoped. Of course he still hoped. Where's life there's hope, right? Doesn't matter that when he last hoped – not even five minutes ago – it ended up with him being beaten up. Maybe this time it will work. Or it will be worse. You would've thought it can't be possibly worse, right? But that's naive thinking. In exactly five seconds after you thought „this can't be worse" the shit will become bigger, gooey... ier, stinkier and it will most definitely hit the big fat ass fan. And while this thought was attacking his mind he still hoped that it will get better. It never did – but who knows?

Suddenly there was boot on his head and he began to slip into darkness. It looked like that idiot really didn't like him. If this was movie, he would've killed that sadistic crazy-ass screenwriter. No. I'd send Lassie. Yeah. Lassie would kick his ass. And now he was thinking about Lassie. He was seconds from being uncosciousness and he was thinking about Lassiter. What was that whole thing about 'can't be worse'? Because it won't be long and he really will think it.

He rolled to his back and opened his eyes to look at the night sky. Shiny white dots on dark background. Could be beautiful. Hell, would be beautiful. If he was here with Jules. Yeah that'd be nice. Jules, stars and smoothie. He would've settled just with smoothie. Yes, Jules is always better, but he could make it work without her. Just no pain. He didn't ask much, right? But as his assailant leaned over to look at him, he saw his devious smile and knew – he obviously did.

Monday 10th

I can do it. Nobody will ever know. Shawn was deep in thought as he was going to Psych office. Gus was gone for the weekend – fortunately – but now he had to meet with him. Nothing difficult, right? He just had to act like nothing happened. It didn't happen. It didn't. Maybe if he will think that enough times, it will become truth. Something like that Secret thing.

Shawn took a deep breath and entered the office. He saw Gus look up and open his mouth and... nothing. He was just frozen.

„Dude, are we in The Girl and the Gold Watch? I really don't wanna be Robert Hays. I saw his photo in hawaiian shirt and it was like bald-free version of my dad. Really terrifying."

Gus for a moment forgot why he was so stunned and it looked like he was trying to picture aged Henry Spencer with hair.

„That movie is called The Girl, the Gold Watch and Everything. But if you don't want to be Robert Hays, I will. I would be hanging out with Pam Dawber, afterall."

„I changed my mind. I'll be Robert Hays."

„You can't, Shawn. Robert Hays is already me."

„You can't be Robert Hays, Gus. You don't have millionaire uncles or gold watch."

„Neither do you!"

„I don't need millionaire relatives to get the watch. Two words, Gus – Uncle Jack."

„Fine."

Gus gave up, which meant he'll soon remember why was he so surprised when he saw Shawn. But Shawn was ready for that. More or less. And true enough, Gus's eyes widened and looking at the bruise on his temple and black eye he exclaimed: „What happened to you?!"

„I think I met Bizzon Man."

„Bison Man?"

„Or him. I definitely ruled out cars, trucks, trains, planes and tanks or another armoured vehicles."

„What? You're not making any sense, Shawn. Where did you get those bruises?"

„Like I said. Bizzon Man."

„You're saying Bison Man beaten you up?"

„Not really sure."

„What does that mean?!"

„It could be Bison Man. Or it could be Bizzon man."

„You just said the same thing."

„No, I didn't. Listen to me closely - It was either Bison Man or Bizzon Man."

„You said it again."

„No I didn't."

Gus sighed. „So, Billy Kitson just decided to make punching bag out of you?"

„Don't be choke chain leash on fluffy teddy bear, Gus. Of course not. Billy Kitson was Bison, not Bison Man. Or Bizzon Man for that matter."

„Why do you keep saying that twice?"

„I'm not, Gus. It's completely different. Look," Shawn said and wrote on the glass board 'Bizzon Man' and below 'Bison Man', „completely different."

„What the hell is Bizzon Man?" Gus asked with confused look in his eyes.

„You know, Bizzaro version of Iron Man."

„You know that bizarro is spelled completely different, right?"

„No it's not. You can hear it. Bizzzaro. Like Bizzzare."

„It's bizarre, Shawn."

„Don't be ridiculous." Shawn said with his usual cheer self, but inside he just wanted to go to bed and sleep all day. He hoped that Gus would have to go to work or something soon. Real soon, please. But they remained in theirs meaningless discussion almost two hours before Gus left. When he did, Shawn didn't have the energy to go back to his apartment. So he laid on the couch right there. He winced as the pain shot through his body. He was glad Gus wasn't there. He would've find out that bruises on his face are nothing compared to the state of the rest of his body. He didn't believe he could control pain enough for Gus not to notice. So he just had to remain more or less motionless when people were around. Piece of cake. He took a deep breath, but he immediately knew it was a mistake. Pain shot through his body again. So just shallow breaths. Got it. He waited until the pain faded and closed his eyes. But once he did, his phone began to ring. He wanted to let it ring like so many times before, but he couldn't. Not anymore.

'When I call, you pick up.'

His words were so loud in his mind right now and his guts tightened. He felt like his heart moved to his throat. Why was he so afraid? Well, okay, he knew why. But how could he? He was never afraid, not like this. He could always handle the fear. His father's training and his own mind helped him to cope with danger, so he was never crippled by fear. But now? That fear began to overcome him, his hands were shaking and he couldn't leave the phone be. If it was Him, he had to pick up. He had to. Shawn was ashamed as he pulled out the phone from his pocket. What would his father think? That I'm a wuss, that's what. Another reason why don't tell anyone. If there was anything to say. Right. Nothing happened. Nothing at all.

„Hello." he answered the phone weakly.

„Mr. Spencer? Are you okay?" Damn it. Chief. He definitely can't tell her. Or anyone else on the station for that matter. How could they hire psychic who didn't see coming that he was going to be.. Damn it. Nothing happened. Nothing! He took a minute to put up his facade again. Even if nobody could see him, they could still hear him. And he needed to stay cheerful and happy like always.

„Chief! Well of course. I was just in connection with spiritual realm, so I'm little weaken, but I gotta tell you, spirits are upset! I'm sensing that you need my help." If he can keep up this charade, no one will ever know. It's nothing to know! He still tried to convince himself but it didn't help. Not at all.

„In fact I do. We have a crime scene and it's a little.. strange." Shawn sat up. Strange. He loved strange crime scenes. It didn't matter that he was afraid of every shadow right now, he just had to be there. Maybe work is what he needs. Maybe work will help him convince himself that nothing happened. And if he can convince himself that nothing happened, maybe he won't be so afraid anymore.

He took his bike to the crime scene. It was sunny, so he could wear sunglasses and nobody would raise an eyebrow. One of the perks of living in California. When he got off the bike he saw Lassiter behind yellow tape talking to young uniform Shawn didn't really know. They were outside of what appeared to be really boring house. Lassiter just shot him angry look. Or was it hate? Disgust? Could he sense what he let happen to him? So Lassie is psychic now. His mind was driving him crazy. It was like he had two personalities constantly fighting for domination. And he just couldn't stop think.

On his way to the house he looked around and saw small girl eating pineapple stick. He instantly fell like he was going to throw up. Girl took another bite and true enough, he fell down on his knees and entire contents of his stomach was on the ground. Oups. Lassie will be pissed.

„Spencer! Did you just contaminate my crime scene?" Shawn didn't know how he did it, but Lassiter was behind him in the matter of second with furious look on his face. Shawn tried to compose himself, so he could answer him, but no such luck. He still didn't feel right. The fact that he still saw pineapple in his mind as well as in front of his eyes didn't help. Who would've thought that digested pineapple looks that.. yeck. Shawn stood up and saw that Lassiter's expression somehow softened and changed. He looked almost concerned now. Right, I didn't answer him. What did he say again?

„What's up with you?" Lassiter asked with raised eyebrows.

„I hate pineapples." Shawn said pointing at the girl with pineapple stick.

„Since when?"

Since I was.. Yeah, right, that would go well.

Lassiter now eyed him suspiciously. When he saw that he was trying to face him with just one side of his face, his eyes narrowed. And now he will grab me to force me to face him. Shawn rather avoided all that grabbing and turned to him all the way.

„Where did you get this?" Lassiter asked pointing at his temple.

„From Bizzon Man."

„You think I'm an idiot?"

„If you can handle it, I'll tell you."

„Tell me what happened."

„Okay, I'll tell you."

„Well?" Lassiter encouraged him as well as he could. Which wasn't really much.

„I do think you're an idiot."

„Spencer!" Lassiter had the same furious look in his eyes as before. Actually Shawn liked angry Lassiter better. It wasn't so confusing as caring Lassiter.

„Fine!" Shawn said and saw Lassiter calm down. „On Saturday I met a horde of disgruntled pineapples. They're saying that words cut deeper than knife. But let me tell you, that's nothing compared to disgruntled pineapples. Yellow, sweet like any other pineapples but with a taste of betrayal. I should've threw them out, but I couldn't. How could you let so sweet fruit go to waste?"

„Are you saying you ate too much pineapple?"

Shawn grinned and this time he didn't have to pretend. Lassiter took his bait as intended. Funny thing was that he even didn't lie so much. In fact, he was very close to the truth, just like with Bizzon Man. And maybe that's why everybody thought it was bullshit. Lassiter just rolled his eyes – as expected – and Shawn began to walk to the house again. But he didn't get very far. Not that he needed to get far, it was just few yards. But he made just two steps, when Lassiter's voice stopped him in his tracks.

„Where do you think you're going? We're not finished." he said and came to him, grabbing his upper arm. Then happened something Shawn was afraid of. He flinched and began to slightly shake. Panicked, he looked around if anybody else saw it. But fortunately everybody kept their distance from them. Nobody even looked at them. Yeah, genius, you just threw up. Lassiter noticed his distress and let the hand go. Shawn sighed with relief and stopped shaking.

„Shawn. Tell me what happened." Lassiter said gently. That soft tone accompanied with usage of his first name made him sick. Because Lassiter wasn't supposed to be nice. Lassiter wasn't supposed to be caring. It was all wrong. He hated it. He couldn't stand it.

„Just leave me alone, Lassiter!" Shawn snapped and before anyone could stop him again, he ran into the house. He knew immediately that this was mistake. That he shouldn't have lost control. Now Lassiter won't stop until he finds out the truth. But that wasn't the worst. He ran without thinking about his injuries, so now he was standing inside the house with pain spreading through his entire body. And he needed to get himself together in the matter of seconds, before somebody notices his painful posture. Come on. Just shallow breaths. It will pass. He tried to hold on hoping that pain will fade soon. Very soon. But that sadistic idiot just didn't like him. The pain wasn't fading, in fact it was increasing. Eventually he couldn't take it anymore. He cried out in pain and fell to the ground. He was still consciousness, just overpowered by pain. Why does it hurt so much? He saw Chief and Jules running to him with concern, he heard Caring Lassie shout out for an ambulance. He knew all that was happening. And when the paramedics asked him what happened, the only thing he could do so he wouldn't break down was to stick to his story. He said: „Bizzon Man." with charming smile on his face. And he knew they thought he was delirious, but it didn't really matter if they believed him or not. All that mattered was to stay awake. Because uncosciousness he won't be able to decide for himself. And then someone else could demand the test. And Shawn wasn't sure if he could deal with the result. Because then he wouldn't be able to pretend like nothing happened. He wouldn't be able to convince himself that nothing happened. And the others would be giving him looks full of pity and disgust for the rest of his life. And Shawn really didn't know if he would be able to live with that.