A/N: This is a little early (I usually post on Sundays), but I got excited! I think there'll be one more chapter after this and the story will be over. This one is a little long to make up for the lack of action! QUICK NOTE: I DID use Google Translate for a few phrases in Spanish. Please note that I understand the inaccuracy of Google Translate and if I was fluent in Spanish, I would be using it all the time. If fanfiction was YouTube I'd be using ASL left and right. Also note, Shawn-is-half-Mexican is out of left field, I know. But hey, this is a humor story, not meant to be 100% accurate so please keep that in mind. But alas...anyway, thanks for all the kind reviews, here is chapter three.

By eight the next morning, Shawn has showered, dressed, downed two cups of coffee and an egg and sausage sandwich and driven to the hospital. It's the most productive he has felt in weeks.

For a while, he leans against his Norton outside the hospital where Peter works. Last night on the phone Peter had given him instructions on where his office is located and what to tell the man at the main desk in the lobby.

Shawn is hesitant to do this. He is running the risk of telling Peter (or rather, Dr. Bronson) and having him think he is insane. It feels insane already, to be honest, telling a complete stranger about this situation. He won't lie; he has felt some heavy hesitation about it. If anything, he should be telling Gus, his best friend, about all this. He can't exactly pinpoint why he ended up here to begin with. Maybe this all feels like a first step, like acceptance. He will tell Gus, eventually.

With a nod of finality, Shawn makes his way into the hospital.

After handing over his ID, he is directed to the right bank of elevators and then, exhaling a breath and closing his eyes, he presses the right button to go upstairs.

He stands outside Peter's office for a moment before knocking, feeling odd. He isn't used to politeness, which is a funny thing to say, but it's true. Usually whenever Shawn wants to enter a place, he just opens the door. This is different.

"Hello, Shawn," Peter says upon opening the door. "Come on in."

Peter and Shawn go through the requisite small talk: how are you, I'm doing well, how was getting struck by lightning, not that good, etc, etc.

Then, finally, Peter folds his hands together and eyes Shawn critically. "You seemed upset last night when you called."

Shawn exhales a heavy breath. "Yeah, about that…something's been going on with me."

"Is this related to getting struck by lightning?" Peter questions. "Are you having pain anywhere?"

Shawn vigorously shakes his head. "Nah, nothing like that…it's um…" he falters, unable to say, I think I have super powers. Christ, this is insane. Maybe he should leave.

"Shawn?" Peter prompts, looking nervous himself.

"I've been able to hear from far distances," Shawn begins, words falling out of his mouth at a quickening speed, "and see the smallest details from miles. Sometimes it feels like everything around me slows down and I can see actions or movements before anyone else can. The other day I got a paper cut and it healed instantly. I kicked a boulder. A boulder. It didn't take any strength. I jumped to impossible heights. It's all been happening so fast, I can barely keep up."

There is a heavy moment of silence and Peter gapes at the man opposite him, confused, obviously, and most likely wondering whether to humor Shawn or admit him to the psychiatric unit ASAP.

Shawn makes a desperate grab for a chrome letter opener on Peter's desk, the glint of the early-morning sun reflecting off its blade. "Watch," he insists before digging the relatively dull but still efficient blade into his palm. He drags it a good few inches downward, wincing as he does so. Then, he releases the letter opener and it clangs onto the cherry wood desk.

Shawn stands, head tilted, almost fearful it won't work, like he has dreamt up the past few days and he'll be downing a handful of anti-psychotics by nightfall.

It does work, however, small sections of the incision knitting back together, nearly microscopic. It must be enough for Peter to see, however, because his mouth opens slightly in astonishment.

Shawn winces as the familiar burn returns to his hand and he shakes it out, bringing his hand closer to himself. Healed. The remnants of the blood are still there and he vigorously wipes at it before thrusting his hand into Peter's line of sight.

"See?" he demands.

Peter stands up, stock-still, expression a mix of awe and confusion.

"I can even hear your assistant in the lobby," Shawn continues, "her name is Ashley, right? She hates doing your 'bitch work' as she calls it. Really, Peter, you make her e-mail your own mother?"

Typically, Shawn's delivery of smart-ass comments such as these is coupled with an I-could-give-a-shit tone but due to his previous reveal, he sounds almost out of breath.

"And over at the front of the building," Shawn continues, "those two guys are supposed to be fixing the exit gate, right? Except that the larger guy, with the plaid hoodie and the orange tech vest? Yeah, he's playing Camel Ride."

Peter closes his mouth, then opens it and then closes it again.

Shawn sits back down.

"I…I…" Peter still can't string together any syllables. "Did you…did your hand just heal?"

Shawn beams.

"What I would have to surmise is that all of your body's natural abilities: sight, sound, agility, healing, etc," Peter says, forking the last bits of his eggs into his mouth, "have accelerated ten-fold."

Shawn sits opposite Peter with a glass of orange juice, opting not to eat. Peter, however, after witnessing Shawn's magic act, had declared, "We need Denny's."

"Because of the lightning," Shawn says.

"Yes." Peter points his fork at the pseudo psychic. "It's like you accessed a part of yourself that was never before turned on, so to speak. The lightning flipped a switch in you. You are hyper observant – hyper vigilant."

Shawn fiddles with the paper wrapping that came on his straw. "You don't think…" he pauses.

Peter puts down his fork.

"You don't think that all of this could be…harming me in some way?" Shawn finally voices one of his many concerns. "That it's like…overexerting my energy?"

Peter gives Shawn a serious look. "I can't say anything on an assumption. I could tell you that, honestly, from what I've seen, you appear fine, outwardly, but there are obviously multiple and extensive examinations you would have to go through to rule out any serious conditions."

Shawn nods morosely. He doesn't want to go through all of this. It seems like so much in so little time. The only people that even know are himself and Peter. His entire world has shifted and not even his best friend knows.

"How long after you got struck did you notice these new abilities?" Peter keeps his voice low as a waitress saunters by with a pot of coffee.

"The next morning."

Peter rubs a hand over one eye, still looking as astonished as he did back in his office. "Goddamn."

"I know."

There is a prolonged moment of silence and Shawn mulls over what he will do first. Call Gus? Call the station? Whatever happened to that murderer guy? Should he actually order some food?

"Shawn," Peter says gently, knocking him from his thoughts.

Shawn's head jerks to attention.

Peter glances at his watch and says, "Listen, I have to go back to work, but we can pick this up later. Maybe 9PM?"

Shawn is hesitant to end this conversation now but he can't keep Peter from doing his job. For once, Shawn can acknowledge that there are other things happening in the world beside what is currently going on in his own life. He gives the older man a quick nod.

Peter signals for the check and then leans in closely to Shawn. "I won't speak a word of this to anyone, you know that, right? It's illegal, for one and also…" he gives Shawn an appraising look. "This is all just so crazy, I don't think I'd even be able to put the right words together if I wanted to."

Shawn laughs mirthlessly. "Thanks."

Peter gives him a reassuring clap on the shoulder before he tosses a twenty dollar bill onto the table. "We'll figure this out," he says gravely, like it really is important to him. For a few seconds, Shawn actually does feel relieved.

Then Peter leaves and he slumps forward, the roiling feeling returning to his stomach. 9PM feels so far away.

Finally, he wrenches himself away from the table. It'll do him no good to mope in a Denny's. What he needs is some Santa Barbara sunshine, maybe a friendly blonde woman whose name starts with a J.

"Juliet!" Shawn shouts, sliding into the SBPD prescient. Yes, sliding. He owns a pair of Heelys and he is putting them to good use. He is also holding two pineapple smoothies, so he feels pretty skilled at the moment. He and Juliet have gotten to be pretty close since he started working for Chief Vick and sometimes they will go to lunch together or eat it together on her desk. She once admitted she had developed a taste for the famous pineapple smoothies at the place on Sixth Street.

Shawn comes to a halt when he sees something he is immensely confused about.

Gus is sitting across from Juliet at her desk and they look almost…friendly? As in, more-than –just-friends-friendly.

Without much thought, Shawn zooms, still holding the two smoothies. "Gus? Jules? What's going on?"

Gus quickly pushes his chair backwards from Juliet to give himself a wide berth from her, like Shawn hadn't already noticed their familiar stance.

"Uh – Shawn," Juliet smiles shyly. "Gus here is just helping me brush up on my Spanish."

It hits Shawn in spurts. The flyer in that coffee shop. Spanish lessons. The plan. Right.

"I did happen to see an advertisement for Spanish lessons from one Burton Guster," Shawn says casually, handing one of the smoothies over for Jules, who gratefully accepts it with a smile. "But then, I wasn't so sure I needed to improve my Spanish."

Gus, still looking shocked, manages to say, "You don't know Spanish."

Knowing this will surprise him; Shawn leans back, takes a sip off his smoothie and asks, "Qué te hace decir eso?" (What makes you say that?)

Gus's jaw drops.

Shawn turns to Juliet and says, "Gus no lo sabe todo acerca de mí." (Gus doesn't know everything about me)

Gus looks from Shawn and back to Juliet, clearly confused.

Juliet notes Gus's stupefied expression and responds, "Supongo que no." (I guess not)

After a long, awkward pause, Juliet explains. "I used some Spanish while on the force in Miami. It was kind of necessary to communicate with people in the area. Gus says he took two years of it in college and I thought I could use him to brush up on my skills. Wait – how do you know Spanish?"

"la familia de mi madre es Española," (My mother's family is Spanish) Shawn shrugs and shoots Gus a nasty grin. Gus had known about his mother being Spanish but hadn't ever asked Shawn about his knowledge of the language. He loves winning, he really does.

"Wow, I never would have guessed," Juliet slurps on her smoothie loudly and Shawn smiles, turning back to Gus.

"Really, Gus? Spanish lessons?"

Gus returns to himself, puffing out his chest in indignation. "Shawn, we need extra money for the Psych office. We can't pay rent because all of the things you put our logo on!"

Shawn crosses his arms. "I think it was pretty genius of me to make Psych swim trunks."

Gus rolls his eyes. "Your 'genius' got our electricity turned off."

"Oh," Shawn looks thoughtful.

"So I've been giving Spanish lessons to get some extra money," Gus continues. "Although I have to admit, Juliet seems more efficient in the language than she let on."

Juliet grins at him and Shawn clears his throat loudly. They both jump and Shawn changes the subject, "So, Juliet, what came of that guy from yesterday?"

"Thomas?" Juliet sets down her smoothie and reaches for a file folder on her desk. "He confessed right at the scene, where of course, you caught him trying to attack Lassiter and I." her tone suggests she is grateful. "Actually, he confessed to a series of other crimes, too."

"Robbery?" Shawn guesses.

"Yes, actually," Juliet looks surprised. "How did you know?"

Shawn just grins and taps his temple.

Gus looks at his friend and says, "Anyway, Shawn, Juliet and I were just in the middle of something so if you don't mind…"

Shawn opens his mouth to retort that he does mind, actually, when Juliet gives Gus an apologetic look and says, "Actually, Gus, I have to cut our lesson short today. We've got another case."

Shawn feels his hopes soar. Perfect distraction. "Already?"

Juliet shakes her head in amusement at the pseudo-psychic. "Yes, already. Although I don't remember her requesting your assistance."

Shawn shrugs. "She will. So what is it?"

Gus follows Juliet and Shawn to a large corkboard pinned to a back wall. Lassiter is standing in front of it, one hand enclosed around the handle of a coffee mug. When he notices who is behind him, he curses, "Aw, hell."

"Hey, Lassie!" Shawn greets, feeling relief seep through his veins, akin to the moments when he has a sip of coffee after a particularly exhausting day. "How are you today?"

"O'Hara," Lassiter looks at Juliet. "Vick didn't ask for his help. He shouldn't even be looking at this."

Juliet looks chastened but then gives Shawn a conspiratorial wink. God, he really might love this woman.

"Actually, Lassiter, I presumed Vick would ask, given the nature of Shawn's observant actions yesterday."

"Yeah, yeah, he was a hero for two minutes," Lassiter snipes. "Anyone could have seen that bastard reaching for his knife."

"Ah, but you didn't," Shawn reminds the detective smugly.

Lassiter scowls before turning to face the corkboard. Juliet stands beside him and gives them the lowdown.

"Our guy, Thomas, admitted he was involved in a string of robberies. However, we have yet to find the other members of said robberies. Their typical MO is to terrorize as much as possible, which, of course, never bodes well for the people inside the bank." She gestures to the photos of the victims below, gunshot wounds evident. "They have yet to strike in Santa Barbara but from what we can pinpoint on the map, they are getting closer and closer."

"Then why did Thomas stray from the team?" Shawn is genuinely curious.

"He was stupid," Lassiter says without turning around. "Had some vendetta with that woman he killed. Didn't tell his buddies about it. From what we can gather, he never killed anyone at the bank robberies. His work was sloppy."

Juliet turns to Shawn, eyes bright. "So what do you think, Shawn? Maybe you could get some insight as to what bank they'll go to next?"

Normally, Shawn would swoon and sigh and dance around, yelling about spirits and psychic gleaning but actually, he might just be able to get this one. "Yes," he says solemnly, his tone surprising both the detectives and Gus.

Gus wants to go to lunch with Shawn after their meeting with Jules and Lassiter and he doesn't object. He feels oddly wired again, as if he needs to be prepared for something colossal. Perhaps he should mention this to Peter later.

Once Gus sits down with his food, he gives Shawn a suspicious look.

Shawn pauses, burger a few inches from his mouth. "What?"

"You've been acting strange," Gus blurts, looking almost guilty for saying so.

Shawn fiddles with the straw in his soda, not knowing what to say. Should he tell Gus, just after telling Peter? What if Gus tells someone else? What if everyone thinks he's crazy? How will he explain it? It hadn't seemed so difficult with Peter; he was just a stranger, not someone used to his antics and his lies.

"Shawn?" Gus looks genuinely concerned now.

Shawn takes a bite out his burger and levels Gus with a look. "Some stuff has been going on with me, Gus."

Gus hasn't even touched his food. He doesn't seem to understand this version of Shawn, so different from his usual bouncing, extroverted persona. It's like something turned down Shawn's volume, diminished his enthusiasm. "I'm listening," he says carefully.

Shawn pushes a palm into his face. "Ugh, I don't know how to – why I – I mean…" he looks flustered and rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. "I'm probably going crazy, I really mean that."

Gus can't stop gawking at his friend. "How long have you feeling been this way?" he asks.

Shawn doesn't seem to be listening. "And I thought, I should probably tell Gus, but how am I supposed to, am I even supposed to?"

"Shawn…" Gus is getting worried.

Shawn sighs and looks at his friend wearily. "Gus, I might actually be going crazy."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, I know this will sound insane, but you have to understand, I'm not lying," Shawn says forcefully.

"Okay," Gus says gently, "what is it, Shawn?"

Shawn rips apart the bun on his hamburger as he talks. "A few days ago, I got struck by lightning."

Gus's eyes widen.

"I went to the hospital and they told me it didn't look good at first but then all of a sudden I woke up again."

"You didn't call me?" Gus demands. "Or your father?"

"Let me finish," Shawn pleads, looking exhausted.

Gus nods.

"Then the next day, all of these strange things started happening to me. I was able to hear my neighbor from across the street even though she was in her house. I was breaking things that I should not have been able to. I hurt my hand and it healed instantly. I was jumping from impossible heights – I mean, I work out, but not that much. Then there's this weird thing where stuff just slows down and it's like I know when something is going to happen before it does."

Gus sort of smiles and reaches for his drink. "Wow, Shawn."

"What?" Shawn is instantly defensive.

"You almost had me there," Gus chews a fry thoughtfully. "Superpowers from getting struck by lightning? Come on."

"Gus…" Shawn says slowly. "I'm not joking."

"Yes you are," Gus says, voice taking on a quivering tone, almost afraid. "You have to be joking. This kind of thing doesn't happen in real life."

"I met a man the night I got struck," Shawn continues on, almost ignoring what Gus is saying, "and I told him what's happening. We're supposed to meet later to make sure that everything is okay."

Gus can't seem to piece all of this new information together. "And you didn't tell me?"

Shawn pushes his food away. "I wanted to! Honestly, Gus, I thought I had schizophrenia or something. I'm not entirely sure that I'm wrong!"

"When are you supposed to meet this doctor?" Gus asks, voice suddenly taking an authoritative tone.

"Nine tonight, why?"

"I'm coming with you." Gus sounds determined. "Whatever you're going through, I'm going to be there too. I'm your brother, man."

Shawn has a suspicious feeling in his throat and he swallows it away. "Thanks, Gus."

"So…what did you say about jumping really high?"

Shawn slowly grins.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Sort of."

"Shawn…"

"I'm like38% sure."

"That's not enough!"

"Ehh…"

"You are not jumping off a building, Shawn!"

"Take care of my pineapple plant!"

Shawn and Gus are on the outskirts of Santa Barbara, at a smattering of buildings that are seemingly abandoned and close together. Shawn knew about this place (Gus didn't bother to ask) and since it's only the afternoon, he can't be in the middle of the city vaulting his body from rooftop to rooftop.

He also didn't bother to tell Gus that he never actually has done this. Yet.

After shouting to his best friend about a pineapple plant he keeps in the corner of his kitchen, Shawn digs his Nikes into the pavement below him and surveys the building across from them. This shouldn't be that difficult, right? He's jumped…rocks. Right. This is just like jumping on those rocks at the beach.

Without giving it more thought than that, Shawn takes a running leap and jumps to the next building's rooftop. The burst of exhilaration is like when he was a kid and jumped off the diving board: feeling slightly terrified and excited at the same time. His legs don't flail all around – in fact, he feels confident, legs stuck straight out, eyes ahead at the rooftop (or, 'landing pad' as he has just now decided he will call them).

"Whoohoo!" Shawn yells, the moment feeling both extremely slow and intensely fast. He sails over the surrounding concrete border of the rooftop and lands, feet-first like a gymnast. "YESSS!" he shouts, arms raised. "Oh my God, did you see that buddy?"

Gus, meanwhile, is trying not to freak out.

He has to admit, he had some skepticism after he and Shawn left the burger restaurant. How could Shawn be serious? Superpowers? Getting struck by lightning? With Shawn, however, anything can be possible. The leap he just made would have been impossible for an average human to make.

However, given that Gus just found out about the superpowers thing, he is freaking out. Seeing Shawn take that jump was like watching a man decide to plummet to his death. Honestly, he had already been crafting apologies to Henry.

I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer, I could have stopped him, but I didn't, I just watched him jump…yes, I did believe he had superpowers, crazy right?!

Shawn is jumping to the next building rooftop and Gus shouts desperately, "Shawn!" but of course the man can't hear him. He watches, helpless yet again, but sighs in relief when Shawn makes it.

Shawn looks as if he has been doing this for years: effortlessly flinging his body from one rooftop to the next, legs planted firmly out and arms in the air like wings. He whoops in delight every time he reaches a new rooftop and Gus can't close his mouth; his surprise is written in his every feature.

"Okay, I'm coming back!" Shawn calls from three or four buildings away but Gus doesn't seem to hear him. He shrugs and then jumps, once, twice, three times, before taking a running leap and latching onto his best friend when he lands.

"Aghhh!" Gus shouts as they both collapse onto the ground.

"Oh my God, did you see that?" Shawn exclaims, completely exhilarated. "I can't believe I did that!"

Gus grumbles to himself and rubs stray dirt off of his dress pants. "Yes, I saw it," he snaps, "and I nearly had a heart attack! Do you know how dangerous that is?"

Shawn gives himself a sweeping gesture of his arms. "Gus, dude, didn't you hear what I told you? Do you know what this means? This is actually happening. Gus!"

Gus looks freaked out. "Shawn, you need to calm down."

Shawn's chest is rising and falling heavily. "Gus – I – I can't! This means I'm not crazy, right? You saw that, right?"

Gus finds himself smiling. "Yes, Shawn, I saw it."

Shawn puts out his fist for Gus to bump. "Come on," he prods and Gus bumps it, still feeling like this may all be a really elaborate, weird dream.

Suddenly, Gus realizes something. "Wait – Shawn. So that's how you caught the murderer the other day?"

Shawn shakes his head. "Nah, I saw him getting away."

Gus looks confused. "But how?"

"Buddy, I told you, I can see from far distances. I could see him trying to get away. And then later, everything kind of slowed down, like I explained? I knew that Thomas was pulling a knife out of his pants but I guess to everyone else he just looked like he was sitting there."

"Can you control it?" Gus asks. "Like turn it on and off?"

Shawn runs a hand through his hair, thinking. "I did the other day. This is all so new, man; I'm not sure what to do."

"So you went to this Peter guy?"

"He almost ran me off the road the other night," Shawn explains and Gus's expression takes on one of anger. "Let me explain! It was storming pretty badly so I got out of the way and he came out of his car to ask if I was alright but that was when I got struck by lightning."

"And then?" Gus prompts.

"He gave me his card and told me to call him if I needed anything. I didn't know what to do or who to tell, so I called him."

"What do you think will happen?" Gus asks.

Shawn shrugs. "I just want to make sure I'm not actually hallucinating."

"Shawn," Gus says slowly. "I can tell you that right now. I just saw you leap across buildings." His voice holds a tinge of awe and Shawn can't help but grin at his best friend.

"Yeah," he says softly. "Yeah you did."

While still on the rooftop, Shawn receives a call from Juliet. Someone in downtown Santa Barbara reported some suspicious-looking men bordering one of the many banks. They have a strong feeling this is the gang that they had had their eye on.

Shawn and Gus arrive after the show has already begun. Hostages have been taken, demands given, all that. Juliet, Lassiter, Chief Vick and a smattering of SBPD officers are clustered around the front entrance.

Juliet and Lassiter don't say anything at first and Gus whispers, "Can you see in there? What's happening?"

Some officers have binoculars and the distance between the many police vehicles and the bank is not quite that far. However, Shawn can see the details.

"There are four guys. One man is at the counter with a bank teller, one at the door, and two around the circle of people that didn't escape. Somebody must have managed to get out the back door because there's a nick at the side of it and some kinds of indents on the wall like they slammed open the door hard on their way out."

"Damn," Gus says.

"I should go in. Create a distraction," Shawn says quickly before bounding out of sight. Gus doesn't have time to say anything. Juliet, Lassiter and the gang are all preoccupied and don't notice as Shawn sneaks away from the crowd of officers.

"Damn it, Shawn," Gus says under his breath. He tries to look casual but no one is paying him any mind besides. Not thinking much about it, he takes after Shawn's retreating back, following the plaid-patterned shirt of his best friend. Almost impossibly, Gus catches up to Shawn, they duck behind a nearby parked car and then book it to the back of the building before anyone catches a glimpse of them.

"Alright," Gus pants, "what's the plan?"

Shawn isn't panting – does he have super speed, too? Gus is curious. Or does he just not feel exhausted anymore?

Shawn looks up from the ground. "Am I supposed to have a plan?"

Gus glares at Shawn. "Are you serious? If you go in there, you will get hurt, Shawn!"

Smiling, Shawn responds, "Don't worry Gus; I can heal." He hides the apprehensive expression on his face from his friend as he reaches the door.

"Shawn!" Gus reaches for his shirt sleeve but it slides between his fingers. Shawn continues ahead, hand at the knob.

"We shouldn't be doing this!" Gus whispers, the door now slightly ajar.

Shawn gives him his trademark smirk. "When has that ever stopped us?" he then disappears inside the door.