Disclaimer: Psych and all affiliated characters mentioned below do not belong me. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made.
He didn't even remember the drive back from the airport. He just remembered seeing Abigail walking away, and then suddenly being on the couch at his place. He knew he should probably go see Gus, but he really didn't want to worry him with all that was going on in his head. The past few days had, without a doubt, been some of the worst in his entire life…discounting when he was shot and kidnapped, when his mother was kidnapped, and that time he went fishing with his dad. He shifted a bit and suddenly became aware of the beer in his hand…when did that get there, he wondered? It really wasn't cool that he was having these black-out episodes. He was Shawn Spencer. He was supposed to remember everything…even when he wished he couldn't. Case in point: the past week. He wished he could forget the look on Juliet's face when he'd turned around and seen her there. He wished he could forget the look on Abigail's face as they said goodbye. He wished he could forget the terror he felt when the shooting started.
He hadn't even heard Gus's screams when the bullets started flying. All he could think about was being strapped to a chair with a hole in his shoulder. He guessed it was safe to say he was severely traumatized by that event. He'd shaken like a leaf as soon as he hit the floor…and that's when the flashbacks started. He kept seeing Garth with the gun, then his long-haired partner with the gun. It was actually the feel of Jules's big brother on top of him that snapped him out of it. Well, that and the little squeaks Gus was making. Even so, if that had been the only bad thing to happen, he probably would've been fine. He'd of headed over to Gus's place and hung out with him for awhile to de-stress. But that wasn't all that happened. Not by a long shot. No, he had to go and accuse Juliet's brother of murder within her hearing. Her negative reaction, though expected, still cut him deeply. No, he didn't have a "normal" family. Yes, he and his dad fought all the time, and yes, he hardly ever saw his mother. But was there really a need to bring those points up in that fashion? He was already painfully aware of those facts. He couldn't help the fact that his mother preferred her job to him. He also couldn't help it that he was a big fat disappointment to his dad. That's why he was the way he was, because he couldn't help it.
He still couldn't get over the look on her face when he'd tried to apologize to her the first time. He truly believed that, in that moment, she hated him. And he knew without a doubt that she'd never be able to look at him again without thinking of arresting her own brother. Whether she'd mean to or not he, Shawn Spencer, would be to blame. She'd always hate him for it. That, coupled with the whole Abigail situation, was tearing him up inside. It was days like these that he truly hated his job…hated himself. Apparently even when he tried to make it work with a girl he still couldn't keep one; either as a girlfriend or just a friend. He really was worthless wasn't he?
He glanced down at his hand and realized he'd had much more than the one beer he'd started out with. At this rate he'd have one heck of a hangover in the morning. He really probably shouldn't be drinking in the state of mind he was in, but at the moment he didn't really care. He just wanted to forget. Just this once. Maybe then he'd forget that his heart had been ripped into a million pieces. And maybe then the terror lurking in the back of his mind would disappear, at least for one night. That's all he was asking for….just one night. He just wanted to forget for one night. That was the last thought to cross his mind as the bottle clunked to the floor and he finally lost consciousness.
Gus stood up from where he'd been sitting and approached Shawn's sprawled form. He'd gotten there a good half hour or so ago but knew Shawn hadn't even realized he was there. He'd known something was wrong with his friend, but didn't realize how bad it was until he'd walked in the door. He stared at Shawn concernedly for a moment before turning his friend's head to the side…that way he wouldn't choke on his own vomit while he slept. He sighed as he picked up the empty beer bottles surrounding Shawn's prone form and put them on the counter. He then pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and laid it over the sleeping psychic, covering the rumpled form. He shook his head a bit at his friend before settling back into a chair. He'd watch over his friend tonight…keep the nightmares at bay. But come morning he was determined to find out just what all was going on in the fake psychic's head. He knew the situation with Juliet wasn't the only thing bothering him. And what was the deal with Uganda? He picked up a magazine and started flipping through it under the soft light of a nearby lamp. He would make sure Shawn got through the night okay. And then he'd be sure to be there for him in the morning when he remembered he couldn't forget anything.