A/N: This story is a sequel to The Pharmaceutical Psychic. If you came from that story, welcome! I'm glad to have you back! If you're new, welcome! I'm glad to have you!

The first few chapters will be spread out in-universe to watch a bit of the long-term recovery from the last fic and get new readers up to speed (spoilers, obviously) before we get into the main plot. I've learned my lesson from last time, no promises on how many chapters it will take to do things…

TW: Pretty much this whole fic deals with trauma and the after-effects. Specifically for this chapter: Nightmare.


"Hallelujah, Hallelujah…"

An old record played in the background, the scratchy song echoing through empty halls as Gus tried to stop his feet from carrying him to the staircase leading down. He could hear screams buried in the chords, glass cracking with the running arpeggios, the void calling in the silence between the notes; the lyrics pulled at his skin as lilies bloomed in the background.

"Baby I've been here before; I know this room, I've walked this floor."

He missed a step and the ground fell out from under him, he landed in a chair surrounded by cement walls painted a cheerful yellow. A blonde scientist stood in front of him, placing a large silver case on a kitchen counter and opening it with a flourish.

"I used to live alone before I knew you."

The man talked around a large grin, gesturing grandly at the neatly packed burn creams, anti-inflammatories and blood thinners. Gus bit his lip and looked around, certain he wasn't supposed to be alone.

"I've seen your flag on the marble arch, and love is not a victory march."

The scientist wasn't alone. A small woman with glasses walked up, handing him a large journal before pulling out a syringe, tapping the glass and squirting liquid from the needle. Blood ran down Gus' arm and flames began to climb the walls.

"It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah."

He wanted to fight, but he couldn't. He chose this. He held his shaking arm out and the needle was buried deep into his skin. His body erupted into pain as fire was injected into his veins; the two scientists watched and made notes as he writhed in his chair.

Burning. Searing. Screaming.

Gus woke up with a gasp to the feeling of fire running through his body. He flailed his arm out, reaching desperately for the table next to his bed, feeling for the water bottle he knew was there. His hand found the cool metal and he immediately grabbed it, pulling it towards him. His shaking hands fumbled at the lid before he was able to open it and take a quick drink. He rolled the bottle along the inside of his elbow where a series of syringes had been injected into him less than two weeks ago.

He focused on the cold feeling on his skin, letting it chase away the burning pain from the vivid dream as he breathed in the scent of sugar cookies from his oil diffuser and listened to the quiet song playing from his phone. He murmured to himself, needing to hear it out loud, "We got out, we're safe. We got out, we're safe…"

His nightmares weren't a nightly occurrence anymore, but they didn't seem to be going away anytime soon. On the bright side, he seemed to be getting better at managing the wake-ups without spiraling into full blown panic attacks and he'd been careful to not sleep around other people, so he only had his own dreams to worry about.

Gus snorted at his life where other people's nightmares breaking into his dreams were a legit concern. Being a psychic was weird.

He sat up and poured a bit of water on his hand before running it over the back of his left arm, feeling the raised scab lines from his more recent encounter with the mad scientist. The water ran over his arm and cooled his skin, washing away the feeling of blood dripping to the floor.

One week and four days since he'd been forced to undergo an experiment that turned him into a psychic, nearly killing him in the process. One week and zero days since he'd walked out of the hospital for a second time, knowing the mad scientist couldn't come after them ever again.

Gus let out a deep breath and climbed out of bed, knowing he wouldn't be getting any more sleep even if he tried. He decided he may as well get ready for the day and headed for the bathroom.

He thought about his nightmare as he washed away the cold sweat in the shower, being mindful of the healing skin on his arms, side and face. He supposed it made sense, him dreaming about the drugs the night before he went back to work selling pharmaceuticals. Especially considering the still-unopened letter he had received yesterday. He made a face and shook away the memory of electrodes on his skin; he wasn't awake enough to deal with that.

He finished in the bathroom and got dressed, glancing at his phone as he buttoned up his dark purple shirt. He raised an eyebrow at the new text message; apparently he wasn't the only one having a rough night's sleep.

He read Shawn's text: "Fun fact, cats can bark. They just choose not to."

Gus smiled sightly and texted back: "Fun Fact, Pythagoras wouldn't let his followers eat beans."

His phone rang almost immediately after he pressed send. Gus answered, "Hi Shawn."

"Pythagoras? Really?! An entire world of fun facts and you choose an old dude that no one's ever heard of…"

Gus walked out of his bedroom with a slight swagger in his step as he informed Shawn, "Pythagoras is one of the fathers of mathematics, anyone who's ever had high school math has heard his name."

"Heard his name, maybe. Cared about his name? No one. Everyone likes cats. I clearly won this round."

"Doesn't Lassiter hate cats?"

Shawn snorted, "Lassie doesn't count as 'everyone'. Admit it, I won. I had the better fact."

Gus rolled his eyes as he started opening his kitchen cabinets, looking for something to eat. "I told you, it's not a competition. No one wins. Or everyone wins if you count learning as winning."

"I do not. Because everything's a competition and I clearly won." Shawn argued stubbornly.

"Fine. You won with a fact that sounds like something a second grader would come up with."

"Thank you! Wait… you never let me win that fast. What's wrong?"

Gus glared at the simple white envelope sitting on his kitchen counter. He hadn't decided yet whether to tell Shawn about it. "The sun's not up and I am… Do the math."

"Nah, you love arguing after nightmares. It's something else. Spill, you know your vault of secrets is no match for me."

Gus sighed, knowing Shawn was right, "I'd rather show you. Can I come by?"

Shawn's voice was surprisingly serious as he answered, "That bad, huh? Sure, I'm not doing anything. Grab doughnuts on the way!"

Shawn hung up before Gus could reply. Gus shook his head and put the box of cereal he'd pulled out back in its spot. Doughnuts did sound good.


Gus paused outside of the old Fluff n Fold, a bag of doughnuts in his hand. He closed his eyes, smiling slightly as he heard the familiar soft clicking of his friend's thoughts. Shawn's thought patterns, the sound of multiple pong balls bouncing against a wall, sounded normal, no signs of distress or pain. One of the balls changed trajectories and was tossed right at Gus as Shawn broadcasted an image at him: A nosy neighbor looking over a white picket fence, only his eyes and hat showing.

Gus smirked at being called out and reached for the handle, his smile turning into a look of annoyance as he was able to let himself in without his key, "Dude, haven't you ever heard of locks?"

Shawn grinned at him from where he was half-laying on the couch, the green cast on his leg propped up on the cushions next to him, "Why would I lock the door? Then I'd have to get up to let you in, right now you can do it all by yourself!"

"And if I was someone you didn't want coming in?!"

Shawn looked at the large storefront window and back to Gus before deadpanning, "Yes, a fifteen dollar lock would totally stop anyone who wanted to get in…"

Gus crossed his arms and huffed, Shawn smirked and made a grabbing motion towards the now-visible paper bag, "Show me the goods!"

Gus ignored the outreached hand and dropped the bag on Shawn's stomach before walking around the couch and settling into the beanbag chair next to it. Shawn made a series of approving noises as he inspected the spread of doughnuts before closing the bag and putting it down on the floor next to him. "Nice. OK, now show me the letter."

Gus shook his head as he reached into his pocket, "How did you know it was a letter?" Shawn held his hand up to his head and Gus cut him off before he could say anything, "You're not psychic, don't even."

Shawn grinned and held his hand out again, "I saw the outline on your pants. Lookin' good by the way, first day back?"

Gus handed over the letter before straightening his tie, "Yeah. Feels weird."

"You gonna be ok?" Shawn asked distractedly, his thoughts overlapping and merging, individual noises combining into the sound of a cresting wave as he closely inspected the envelope.

"Guess we'll find out…" Gus nodded towards the letter, "What do you think?"

"I think Frankenstein's wife needs a new hobby… Has she sent you anything else?"

"Nah, that's it." Gus felt his indignation rise at the thought of Rhianna, the crazy scientist's obsession, trying to contact him at all.

Shawn held the envelope up to the light, "You haven't opened it."

Gus shook his head, he didn't want to know what she had to say. The only reason he hadn't thrown the letter right into the trash was because it might say something that would make it easier to get a restraining order against her.

Shawn shrugged, "It doesn't look like there's anything other than paper in there, if I get anthrax… Well, I guess you'll be getting it too. Sharing is caring, thanks buddy."

Gus snorted as he watched Shawn open the envelope and pull out a single page of typed paper. The sound of waves almost immediately started glowing a faint angry red as Shawn scanned over the letter. He scoffed once he reached the end, "It's safe, wanna read it or want me to nutshell?"

Gus hesitated before reaching out for the paper. His eyes scanned the letter, certain phrases jumping out at him: '"restarting my research", "request you appear before the board", "merely a few interviews and noninvasive scans", "we can change the world."

Gus stared for a few moments after he finished reading before snapping out, "Seriously?! She seriously thinks that, after everything that happened, I'm still going to play the perfect little psychic for her?!"

"Oh, but Gus…" Shawn's voice was dripping in sarcasm, "didn't you see? She 'regrets the unfortunate circumstances of your first meeting.' Clearly you have to forget it ever happened now." He snorted, his voice returning to normal, "I guess insanity is more contagious than we thought."

Gus sighed as he folded the letter back up and held a hand out for the envelope, "She's not insane, I know what that feels like. She's just obsessed."

Shawn watched as Gus put the letter back in the envelope, "Tomato, tomato."

"You just said it the same way, both times."

"Yes. Yes I did… You know, I'm kind of insulted. She thinks I'm a psychic too, why don't I get a creepy penpal?"

Gus shrugged and tossed the envelope to the floor behind the couch, out of sight until he had to leave the apartment. "Maybe she thinks our 'psychic communication' can stretch long-distance. Two psychic answers for the price of one."

Shawn held up a hand in correction, "Clearly you didn't see the part about not having funding yet, so 'compensation will have to be discussed at a later date.'"

Gus rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Whatcha watching?"

Shawn grabbed the doughnut bag and rummaged through it, bringing out a bear claw as he answered, "Monty Python."

"...Seriously?" Gus accepted the bag that was handed to him, grabbing a doughnut without even looking at what it was.

"I mean, I picked it out before that..." Shawn jerked his thumb towards the floor behind the couch. "We can change it."

"Screw it. Still not dead."

Gus took a large bite of his doughnut as Shawn grinned and pointed the remote at the TV, "Still not dead."


Gus let out a shaky breath, "I don't think I can do this…"

Shawn hopped up next to him, crutches braced under his armpits, "Sure you can, you just… walk in a straight line until you can't walk any more."

Gus stared nervously at the building ahead of him as he pulled off his tie, "Everything's different now… I'm not sure-"

Shawn interrupted him with a firm squeeze to his shoulder, "It's fine. Just pretend everything's normal until it is again. It's what I always do. It works great."

Shawn started moving away from the car, forcing Gus to choose whether to follow or not. Gus gulped again and smoothed his hand over his shirt before catching up to his friend, "He's going to shoot me…"

"Gus, if he was going to kill you he would have done it already…" Shawn started to slowly make his way up the porch steps.

Gus stayed right behind Shawn, eyeing up the deceptively peaceful looking white house with red trim. "Or he's trying to lull me into a false sense of security so he can surprise me when I least expect it!"

Shawn stopped at the door and turned to give Gus a look, "Dude, you're psychic, just read his mind…"

"But he knows I'm psychic too! You can't tell me he's not the kind of person who would figure out how to think one thing and plan another!"

Shawn paused with his hand on the doorknob, "You may have a point… Ok, new plan: we don't mention the psychic thing and hope that he's forgotten it in his old age."

"That's your plan?!" Gus hissed out frantically as the door swung open.

Shawn jumped slightly as he found himself face-to-face with his father. He whispered frantically out of the side of his mouth, "Act natural…"

Gus immediately turned and braced himself as Shawn leaned back into him. He glanced up and stared at the sky nonchalantly, as though bird watching instead of staring down his ultimate demise.

"Shawn, you're only fifteen minutes minutes late. I always knew that deathtrap of a bike added extra time to your trip."

"Dad, imagine seeing you here! Still as grumpy as ever…" Shawn straightened up and started hopping through the door, "You remember Gus is a psychic, right?"

Gus whirled around to glare at his best friend, "Shawn!"

"Yes, I remember…" Henry eyed Gus up before meeting his eyes with a small nod, "Gus."

Gus nodded back nervously, "Mr. Spencer."

There was a beat of silence before Henry waved into the house, "Well come on, the food's not going to eat itself."

Gus walked in and focused on Henry's thoughts, the feel of a fishing line against his fingers and the visual of puzzle pieces clicking together: slight unease, a timer before the steaks needed flipped, a fast scan looking for hidden injuries, annoyance.

"Shawn! Get your feet off the table!"

Shawn grinned, not moving from his reclined position in the kitchen, "But the doctors said I needed to keep my leg elevated…"

"I don't care! Put it on a chair, not the table… It's like you were raised by wolves."

"You would know." Shawn replied back cheerfully as he carefully lowered his cast to the floor and stretched it out under the table. Henry grabbed plates and silverware and plopped them onto the table in front of Shawn. "Make yourself useful… Gus, follow me."

Shawn sat up straight with a mock-serious look on his face as he held his left hand up to his head in a salute. "Been nice knowing you, buddy,"

Gus let out a nervous breath and followed Henry up the stairs. He was led him into Shawn's old room before Henry turned and spoke quietly, "Ok, we should have at least a minute before he starts trying to eavesdrop…"

Gus focused on the ponging noises from downstairs, "Nope, he's already moving."

"Of course he is…" Henry rolled his eyes before looking at Gus seriously, "Are you ok?"

Gus was taken aback by the question, "What- Of course I'm ok. Bad guy's gone, everything's healing fine, life's getting back to normal…"

"Gus… Nothing in the last few weeks has been normal, and you've had to deal with the brunt of it…"

"Mr. Spencer, I appreciate it, but I promise I'm good. I'm getting a handle on the psychic stuff…" Henry made a face at the word and Gus snorted, "Yeah, I know, it's weird." He continued his previous thought, "I'm sleeping better, I'm not jumping at every little noise…"

Henry looked past Gus towards the stairs, "You know this wouldn't have happened if-"

"If a crazy man didn't do crazy things." Gus interrupted while glaring at Henry, daring him to finish his original sentence.

Henry sighed, "I'm just trying to say… you can quit Psych and not quit being friends with Shawn."

"And like I already told Shawn when he asked, I don't wanna quit. We should probably go, he's at the stairs…"

Henry hesitated before nodding and reaching up to squeeze Gus' shoulder as his thoughts flared bright blue, sharing the feelings of protection and caring and family. Gus stared at him as Henry moved past to yell down the steps, "Damnit Shawn, you're on my health insurance, don't you dare re-break that leg trying to climb these stairs."

Gus shook his head as he followed, only jumping slightly when Henry called out to him while stalking out the back door, "Gus! Corn and rolls in the oven, should be done in a couple of minutes."

The door closed behind him, not quite blocking out the smell of cooking meat and charcoal.

Shawn sat back down at the table and separated the stack of plates to put them in their proper positions before haphazardly tossing the silverware around them, "That went better than I expected…"

Gus rolled his eyes before moving to check on the food in the oven.

Five minutes later, Henry came back into the kitchen with several perfectly cooked steaks. Everyone loaded up their plates and dug in, the good food punctuated by quiet conversation. Gus had just polished off his third ear of corn when Henry asked him, "So how was your first day back at work?"

Gus shrugged, "It was fine. Got caught up on my client list, looked up the new drugs that just hit the market, kept having to tell everyone about my 'car accident.'" He used finger quotes around the excuse he'd decided to give his workplace for his medical leave of absence. It wasn't like he was lying, he just didn't want to deal with telling the whole truth.

He looked down and focused on cutting another bite of steak, hoping the subject would be dropped. He didn't want to talk about how someone had clapped him on his shoulder and he'd nearly jumped a foot into the air. Or how he'd had to close and lock his door before he could force himself to read about different drugs and their side-effects, his metal shield buckling the entire time.

Judging by the sound of cresting waves and the puzzle pieces quickly clicking into place, his reaction didn't go unnoticed. Gus looked up and glared, "Stop it, both of you! Spencer-vision each other or something…" He ate his bite of steak, chewing grumpily while he unconsciously rubbed his fingers over a string of beads wrapped around his wrist.

Henry's thoughts stuttered as he noticed the movement and clearly recognized the brown necklace his son had worn constantly for years. "Wait, you were wearing that in the hospital too… are you two…" He awkwardly gestured between Shawn and Gus, "or is that a…a ps… a psy…" His voice trailed off as he tried to get the word out.

Shawn's lips twitched as he watched Henry struggle, "It's ok dad, you'll get there. Just say the name of my business and then hiccup afterwards." He moved his silverware back and forth as he demonstrated, "Psych-HIC-... Psych-HIC-... Psych-HIC-"

Gus shoved Shawn's shoulder, "I told you that's what everyone would think. Lassie thinks we're together now too!" He turned to answer Henry, "It's just a psychic thing, it helps me protect my thoughts when it's too loud."

"And it works because you loooooove me." Shawn snickered as Gus shoved him again, harder.

"Boys, behave." Henry gave them both a look before turning back to Gus, "So that's why you passed out at the station. Too many thoughts?"

Shawn sat up straight, "Wait, you heard about that?"

"I work at the station, of course I heard about that… I got to hear about you getting arrested too, hell of an end to my lunch break. Thanks for that."

"You know me, dad. Everything I do is to make your life harder…" Henry and Gus looked at each other before they both turned to glare at Shawn. He looked between them and rolled his eyes, "OK, fine. Maybe the thought did cross my mind… but it was in no way a deciding factor for anything!"

Gus answered the skeptical vibrations of the fishing line, "Nah, I'm pretty sure he's telling the truth, it happened really fast."

Henry narrowed his eyes and put his silverware down, "Ok, can you hear everything I'm thinking?"

Gus sighed, already getting tired of the questions, "Not really, just emotions and patterns. I can see surface thoughts if I look hard enough…"

Henry narrowed his eyes and stared at Gus. The fishing line pulled taut and a visual was reeled into Gus' mind: A lie detector machine sitting on an interrogation table.

Gus rolled his eyes, "That doesn't count, you literally thought it at me."

"He doesn't hear thought words either," Shawn cut in, his mouth full of food. He swallowed at Gus' glare and continued, "I performed the entire Independence Day speech at him one day, he had no idea. It was some of my best work…" He stared wistfully off into the distance.

"You did not…"

"I most certainly did."

Gus focused on the bouncing thoughts as he replied, "No, you didn'… oh, you did. When?!"

Shawn grinned proudly, "When we were playing poker a few days ago."

"Before or after the blindfolds?"

Henry interrupted them, "Wait, you played poker… blindfolded?"

"Well, Shawn could read all of my cards off of my tells, and I could read all of his cards off of his thoughts…" Gus explained before his eyes widened and he spun to look at Shawn, "Oh my god, that's why I kept seeing spaceships? I thought you were trying to distract me!"

"But… blindfold." Henry reiterated, looking between them.

"We may or may not have not thought it all of the way through…" Shawn admitted.

"But I won." Gus stated proudly.

"It's true, he did. But only because I was distracted."

"We were both distracted! I won fair and square. Why were you trying something you knew wouldn't work?"

"Well, you can see movie stuff, I wanted to see if I could mix the two!" Shawn said as he broadcasted a visual: A drop of liquid falling into a beaker, a flash of light and a cloud of smoke.

"What, you wanted to try and blow up my brain?" Gus crossed his arms, feeling unsettled that Shawn had been experimenting without letting him know.

Shawn crossed his arms back, "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Oh dear lord, you two are even worse now…" Henry picked up his empty plate and took it to the sink, shaking his head in despair. He grabbed a plastic grocery bag and waved it at them, "And would one of you please explain why I needed to buy marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate for tonight?"

Shawn's jaw dropped, "... Do you not know what s'mores are? How are we related?"

"I know what s'mores are!" Henry exclaimed indignantly, "I want to know why you think I'm going to let you make them after-"

"Oh come on! That was years ago!" Shawn cut him off.

Gus sat back with another roll, watching in interest as both Spencer's voices rose, but their thoughts stayed steady.

"And you haven't matured a day since then! I had to call the fire department!"

"And then you got to build a new porch like you'd been wanting to do for years. You're welcome!"

"I didn't agree to this!" Henry exclaimed, waving the bag around.

"Of course you did, you bought the stuff." Shawn pointed out logically.

"That's… That's not… Why do you want them anyways? You've never wanted to make them before."

Shawn dropped his voice back to normal volume as he answered primly, "Because it comforted us in our time of need."

"No smoothies, no cupcakes…" Gus muttered as he ate the last bite of his roll.

Shawn pointed at him in agreement as he told Henry, "See? We should get at least one of the three."

"Oh for crying out loud…" Henry pointed at Shawn, "We're using the grill and you will only touch your marshmallow stick, nothing else."

"Deal." Shawn grinned in triumph as Henry walked back outside again to prepare the grill. Shawn grabbed his crutches and made his way to the marshmallow bag, grabbing a plate as he passed the cabinets. "You want three?"

Gus thought about his already-full stomach as he eyed the chocolate and puffed sugar, "Yeah. Three. Toasted, not burnt."

Shawn nodded as he headed towards the door, "So you want dad to do them, not me."

"Yes, I want your dad to do them." Gus confirmed.

"Got it." The door swung shut and Gus smiled slightly, glad to have a friend who didn't need any explanations for why he couldn't stand around a hot grill with flames yet.

He sat still for a moment before curiosity got the better of him. He crept up to the back door and peeked out of the window, putting his hand to his head in the psychic gesture as he concentrated, trying to see how much of the quiet conversation he could divine with his new sense.

Henry has an annoyed look on his face as he waved his hand towards the house: Gus, marshmallows, a silhouette of a man with a tie and a briefcase.

Shawn smirked and made a joke before his face grew serious: stairs to a basement, a needle, fire

Henry sighed and shook his head as he loaded marshmallows on a stick: distant anger, climbing back onto a horse, impatience.

Gus made a face and focused on Shawn's reply: A calendar with only a week crossed off, two police officers covering each other's backs, a heart thumping underneath a floorboard growing louder and louder.

Gus pulled back his focus and clicked his tongue at being found out as Shawn turned his head slightly to smirk at the door. Henry turned to look too and asked a quiet question. Shawn grinned and answered as he pulled his blackened marshmallow from the grill. Gus snorted and made his way to the sink to start rinsing off the dishes.

He had just finished stacking the last dish, ready for the dishwasher, when the back door opened again. Henry walked in with a plateful of s'mores and Shawn was right behind him with the bag of ingredients, still chatting away. "... And that's why they obviously died when they crossed the beams."

Henry breathed out the deep sigh of a long-suffering parent and sat down at the table without grabbing any dessert. Gus came over to join them, happily taking one of the perfectly cooked s'mores sitting on top of the stack. "Thanks Mr. Spencer."

Henry nodded as Shawn grabbed a burnt s'more and stuffed it in his mouth before easing his way into his chair. As soon as he was settled his hands were flying back through the air as he tried to talk through the food, "'oo a'ee 'iff 'e, aigh' 'us?"

"Shawn!" Henry raised his hands in exasperation.

Shawn rolled his eyes and muttered incoherently as he chewed and swallowed, sending a visual: A drill Sergeant yelling at his recruits, "Drop down and give me twenty!"

"I agree with him, that was disgusting."

"What I said was, 'You agree with me, right Gus?' The angry goo, the weird painting thing, the dancing statue of liberty… That has to be purgatory! It doesn't make sense otherwise."

"Ghostbusters aren't supposed to make sense." Gus pointed out, "The final villain in the first one was a giant Stay Puft man…"

"Ok, then why doesn't anyone believe them about paranormal stuff even after the marshmallow giant? Huh?"

Gus shrugged, "I mean… We have a near-perfect solve rate, you've even accused a dinosaur of being a culprit and been right, but the police still argue with every theory we come up with. People not believing the Ghostbusters is honestly one of the most realistic parts of that movie."

Shawn raised his eyebrows as he thought about Gus' logic, "Huh, you may have a point…"

Gus smirked and grabbed another s'more. Things might not be normal yet, but it was getting better.


A/N: Assuming nothing goes terribly wrong, expect updates at least once a week. I write several chapters ahead of posting so I have some buffer room for life hiccups. If writing goes fast, then I'll update faster.