----------Musubi's Fried Rice Corner------------------------

Thanks again for the kind reviews. I know I've said that I finished the fic and should be updating more frequently. Sorry guys! . I keep poking at the chapters changing little things here and there. Ugh, the fic just won't stay finished!

Anyway, read, review--whatever. Hope you enjoy chapter 4. In my opinion, this is kinda low key expository. But let me know what you think, k? ^_^

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His dad didn't agree to the surgery. At first, the young Spencer was oddly proud of his old man. His dad was still the Tough Guy, someone who could take a punch and simply stand back up and fight again.

What was important was his father was coming home. On a cane, a wheelchair or standing, it didn't matter. His dad was coming home from a four night stay in the Santa Barbara City Hospital.

He could cry, but…he was so over that now.

Shawn and Gus waited in the living room, watching the old brown car roll up into the driveway. Excitement pure as adrenaline rushed through his lanky frame. He and Gus could hardly hold their smiles or excitement as they dashed through the living room outside. Shawn threw open the door, couldn't stop saying Dad, dad, dad, dad, dad! Never mind he was thirteen years old.

Gus stopped first at the front of the car.

"Gus…what's wrong?" Shawn asked.

"Your mom usually doesn't drive," Gus said simply. Shawn chortled at his friend's too-serious statement. So what Mom hardly drove the station wagon? Dad was still probably still knocked out from the drugs they gave him. It was heavy duty tranquilizer anyway.

Ch'nk the door slammed shut and Maddie Spencer stood tall, looking at her son(s) with stern eyes. There was anger and frustration and exhaustion burned in the iris, but Shawn couldn't tell if it was directed at him or at Gus.

"Whatever it is, Mom, it was Gus' idea. I was just being a good friend," Shawn stammered. "If it's broken, I'll fix it—I'll pay for it. I'll get a job, I'll—" His mother stopped him with a look and he backed off, knowing the consequences of agitating the family matriarch.

A sleeker, newer, black car pulled behind the Spencer station wagon.

"Gus, what're your parents doing here?" Shawn asked his friend quietly, hopefully quiet enough to keep his mother's frazzled emotions at bay.

"I'm not sure, man. But your mom is starting to scare me."

Chunk. Chunk. Two individuals emerged from the vehicle, Mr. and Mrs. Guster. They swiftly walked to the young boys and guided them back to the car.

"Thank you so much, Bill," Maddie said to Mr. Guster, tired, exhausted.

"It's no problem, Maddie. Just call when you're ready to have Shawn back."

"Mom, are you finally selling me to the Gusters? I'm hurt!" he offered his mother a wicked smile, hoping to ease some sort of response. His mother simply dropped and shook her head. She knew her Goose was just trying to make it better, make her smile, but in the wake of situations, she just couldn't—not even for her child.

Shawn noticed his mother was about two statements away from crying. He walked into the Gusters' car without further statement.

Wasn't all the bad stuff supposed to end when Dad got out of the hospital?

What's going on?

The car started up and drove away from his home. He caught a glimpse of his incapacitated father step from the car. The liquid movements were…different, not the stilted, methodical and plotting movements Henry Spencer was known for. His mother was distraught, started to say something, but Shawn couldn't hear or see—the family and house were out of sight.

How many hats, Shawn?