Five Times Shawn Didn't Go To Confession and the One Time He Did

The time he learned he was wrong (Ghosts)

Shawn and Henry argued constantly. It was a constant in Shawn's life, knowing that his dad would always be there to disagree with him. At least their fights had calmed down a fair bit from when Shawn was a teenager. Now arguments contained less anger, less crescendo, but no less ego.

Sometimes, however, the past stood as a giant roadblock between them. Shawn had his version of history and Henry had his. Neither would ever see eye to eye and neither would ever admit they were wrong.

Of course Henry was way more wrong.

Shawn thought back to his words the previous night, when he'd told his dad, “You had your chance” and “To leave her alone.” Shawn thought he understood everything so well. He knew his dad was gunning for his mom all over again despite the past.

Only Shawn's version of the past was ill conceived--wrong.

Shawn watched as his dad waved at them from behind the window. He smiled as though it was 1989 and Shawn couldn't help but feel regret. All these years he'd blamed his dad only to discover the truth too late.

Henry and Maddie would never be a couple again, but that wasn't Henry's fault. Not entirely. Yet somehow he couldn't blame his mom either.

“I know this sounds horrible...” she'd told him.

Was he the reason she needed to leave? Years of arguments and pain flooded Shawn's memory. He'd been wrong all along and his dad had paid the price.

The time that was just like all the other times that he lied, and yet was different (There Might Be Blood)

Shawn wasn't the type to stay up all night and worry about his misdoings. Heck, mischief was half of the fun with Psych. What did it matter if he impersonated people if it got the job done? Unlawful entry? Lying? Deceit? They were a means to an end. Completely justified.

At the end of the day, Shawn Spencer kept Santa Barbara safer and had a blast while doing so. That was what mattered.

However, some faces haunted him more than others. People who'd believed his stories. People who'd given him his trust. People who'd let him into their lives, believing he was an employee, a counselor, or even their friend.

He didn't miss the betrayal in Ashley's eyes as the police led her away. He'd convinced her to lower her gun. She was just about to hug him and then...

Then the web unfolded.

Shawn saved the day, sort of, but the darkness in Ashley's gaze stayed with him. The hurt...

Shawn wouldn't soon forget that look.

The time Shawn failed to talk the bad guy down (Earth, Wind and...Wait for It)

He'd tried everything to convince Army not to drop that lighter and yet it wasn't enough. The whole place filled with smoke and flames anyway.

At least everyone escaped.

That night Shawn found himself pacing the streets outside of the Church. He hadn't deliberately walked here in over fourteen years. He couldn't explain the guilt swarming in his gut or even why it was there or how it'd dragged him out at such a late hour.

Army hadn't killed himself.

The case was solved.

Only it could have ended so much worse.

He'd never had problems talking someone down before. Never. People took to his personality. They liked him. They listened to him.

They didn't try to kill themselves.

He closed his eyes, remembering the lighter dropping to the ground. It could have ended so badly and all because he wasn't good enough.

He took one last look at the church and then headed to Gus's instead. What use was there wallowing in “could have been” and “might have been”? The world hadn't ended. It was time to relax and let go.

The time Shawn considered murder (An Evening with Mr. Yang)

He wanted to kill her. If someone put a gun in his hand, he would try. No doubt about it.

He watched as the police officers led her away and shivered when the patrol car drove by. He trembled whether from fear or adrenaline or shock, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that Yang nearly killed his mom, possibly even his dad, and prison would not contain her. The murdering psychopath would return one day and it would all start again.

So yeah, he wanted to kill her. He needed to kill her. He wanted to see her body fall limp to the ground—lifeless. That, above everything else Yang had done, terrified him the most.

Shawn wasn't a killer.

He wasn't supposed to have murderous thoughts.

Gus would probably tell him to go to confession and get it all off his chest. Heck, he'd been telling Shawn that for a while.

Of course Gus believed in ghosts and spirits and probably voodoo so his opinion on supernatural matters wasn't exactly reasoned. Yes, God was supernatural and in the same category as ghosts. Yes, he'd told Gus as much on several occasions.

What would he say anyway? I nearly let my own ego get my mom killed? I didn't really solve the case? Did those even count as sins?

Murder definitely counted.

But thinking about murder?

Sins, Shawn scoffed. What did they matter if God wasn't real anyway?

So yeah, confession was definitely out of the question.

The time he lost that one guy that one job, but not really. (Extradition: British Columbia)

The museum heist didn't exactly go as expected. It should have been the perfect crime but instead Shawn was left calling his dad and asking for bail money. Which, by the way, wasn't exactly easy. Shawn could hardly believe Henry had agreed to come to Canada much less that he'd nearly maxed out his card in an attempt to free Shawn.

Shawn wouldn't be living that one down anytime soon.

As though enough salt hadn't been rubbed into his wounded ego, he then saw the Way-Too-Eager Mackintosh carrying his cardboard box and definitely not smiling.

So he could add the poor guy to his “Wow, I completely screwed you over list.” Fired. Really?

He did his best to hide it, but the truth was Shawn felt bad. He'd done a lot of crazy stuff to solve cases in the past, but most of them worked out in the end. It just seemed wrong that this poor guy he'd convinced to help them would have to pay the larger price.

He might have gone to confession over that one. He'd even told himself he would.

Not that he ever did.

Shawn solved the case and the Mounties gladly accepted the eager beaver back into their fold. One case solved and one ego thoroughly repaired.

No supernatural God needed.

The time he finally gave in and let go (The Devil is in the Details...and in the upstairs bedroom)

Gus needed this. Or so Shawn kept telling himself as he paced the chapel.

The only reason Shawn agreed to go was because Gus had been angry enough to painfully arm punch him. Heck, Gus had just been angry lately.

“You really want to know why?” Gus had asked after Shawn prodded for the twentieth time. There were only so many cold shoulders Shawn could handle.

“Yes, Gus, I want to know. Tell me.”

“It's because you belittle me, my faith, my intelligence, and my place with Psych. I stand by you through everything and I can't remember the last time you truly stood by me.”

The words stung more than Shawn cared to admit. When had he failed Gus? Didn't he go along with this whole demon possession thing just to appease his friend?

Of course that was the problem, at least according to Gus.

It wasn't Shawn's fault that he saw all the inaccuracies in religion. It wasn't his fault he thought Gus was crazy for believing in ghosts and the supernatural. It was just part of who Shawn was. Shawn would always be a skeptic.

It also wasn't Shawn's fault if he was the lead investigator on Psych and if he was right more often than he was wrong. That didn't mean Shawn didn't appreciate the role Gus played. He believed in his friend most of the time.

The bruises on Shawn's arm were bright and purple. He doubted Gus knew he'd hit that hard. Maybe Gus had been working out behind his back or something. Again not really the point.

“Look, just tell me how to make this right.”

Had Shawn known what Gus would suggest, he'd never have asked.

Confession. Really? What exactly would that prove?

That Shawn took Gus's faith seriously? That Shawn took Gus seriously? Shawn wouldn't buy it, but he wasn't the once that needed to be convinced.

Gus didn't waste anytime. A mere two hours later, Gus and Shawn were back at Church with the entire confessional to themselves. Apparently Gus had called ahead for an appointment.

“Trust me,” Gus had said, “This is going to take you a while.”

Finally the brown door opened and Shawn was up. He wanted to run. He probably would have had it been anyone else asking him to go. But Gus needed this.

Fifteen years.

It'd been fifteen years.

The last time he'd stepped into the confessional, he'd told Father Westley everything. How he hated his father. How he was planning to run.

He'd expected Westley to tell his dad or to give him another option, but instead he'd said, “You do what you have to do. That's not necessarily a sin. But when you do decide to leave, don't forget to say goodbye to your dad.”

It was the one and only time Westley seemed to understand him.

“Let's start with the lying. I do it all the time. But here's the good news: Nature of my job.”

“Yeah. Go on.”

“I'd rather switch over to stealing; if you don't mind.”

He'd come close to telling the truth there. The whole truth. He wanted to. The seal of confession would protect him.

He didn't.

This wasn't working.

Jingles were easier to talk about. Funny was so much easier than serious and so much more Shawn anyway. Why would Gus ever think this was a good idea?

“Shawn,” Westley interrupted as Shawn gave his fourth jingle.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me about your job.”

Shawn froze. “I love it. I get to catch bad guys and save lives. I think God and I are good on that one.”

“You said you have to lie?”

“Oh, that? That's nothing. Hardly worth mentioning really.”

“Why don't you humor me.”

“I believe that's exactly what I was doing. Hello, Hooooly Ghooooost, anyone?”

“Shawn...”

It'd been a long time since he'd heard Father Westley use that voice on him. Not that it had ever worked before. Still Shawn paused. He drew a deep breath as images traced through his mind.

Ashely, Mackintosh, Army, his dad, Yang...countless others.

“I'm not really a psychic.” The words poured out before he could stop them.

He waited for Westley to chastise him or act surprised, instead all he got was another, “Go on.”

He could have left it there. He'd made his promise to Gus. He'd gone to confession. What did it matter if he didn't confess everything? It was between him and God and since God didn't really exist anyway...

Unless he did. Which he didn't.

He could feel all the guilt and hurt and worry that were all so desperate to pour out of him. It'd been hard enough to admit to the psychic thing. How could he share all his other insecurities and faults?

Though it did feel good to tell someone other than Gus or his dad. Someone who wouldn't say anything. Someone who wouldn't judge him, or wouldn't show it anyway.

The guilt continued to press in, suffocating him in the tiny confessional. He had promised Gus an honest confession.

“Seriously, how much time do you have?” Shawn asked.

“Take all the time you need.” This time Shawn couldn't see Westley look at his watch from behind the grating. Maybe he hadn't.

“Okay. Just remember, you're the one who asked all the probing questions to make me talk. I hold no responsibility for what I might say.”

Silence took over as Shawn took a deep breath. Now he just needed to figure out where to begin.

...

There was no telling how much time had passed in the confessional. Maybe an eternity, maybe only an hour. Shawn did feel lighter, he had to admit, and, yes, maybe even a little better.

He found Gus on the third pew, snoring loudly. It almost seemed a sin to wake him, but the pew really couldn't have been all that comfortable.

“C'mon, Buddy. Let's go home.”

As Shawn's best friend, Gus knew better than to ask any questions. It was part of what Shawn appreciated about him. Only Shawn had his own question and he couldn't keep from asking. “So we're good now? Right?”

Gus smiled. “Yeah, Shawn, we're good.”