Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or any of its characters. That would be Steve Franks.

Author's Note: This is a fic I wrote about a year ago (time flies!), and I'm reposting it here. YAY MULTI-CHAPTEREDNESS! \o/

And I'll be updating this daily(ish) since it's already complete. :D

March 17

Today was their day. Today was their special little anniversary. Henry had always hated anniversaries. Depending on the occasion, they were just excuses to either buy expensive, unnecessary gifts, or to drink the day away. Today's anniversary was the latter.

Henry clutched his bottle and drank. He hadn't been there for very long. The bar's residents were currently ignoring the no smoking sign, and if it were any other night Henry would have reprimanded them. But tonight he found it hard to care about the smoke filling the room. It had just been one of those days.

Henry saw Shawn enter the bar out of his peripherals, but didn't move from his barstool. If Shawn wanted to finish their argument, he wasn't going to stand up to meet him. He had come to Tom Blair's to avoid a fight, and he wasn't about to go looking for one now. As Shawn walked up to the barstool his dad was sitting on, Henry took a casual sip of his next beer.

Instead of saying anything, Shawn just sighed and sat down on the stool next to him. "Can I have a beer?" he asked the bartender. Shawn was avoiding Henry's eyes and trying to find something to say to fill the awkward silence.

"Look…Dad…" he sighed. He shifted in his seat. "It's been a rough day; want me to buy the next round?"

Henry knew that Shawn was avoiding what topic he really wanted to talk about. Shawn had always done that as a kid too, talking about Legos when he really wanted to talk about something else. Well, Henry was getting a little tired of it. If Shawn wanted to talk about today, he'd need to come out and say it.

Henry nodded and took another sip from his beer. "So what's on your mind, Shawn?" he asked. "I think you've said everything you needed to say already."

Shawn winced at the mention of the fight. It appeared his dad could hold grudges just as long as he could. He didn't say anything, and instead sipped at his beer. His eyes still hadn't left the counter. "I was a little pissed, Dad, I didn't mean any of it."

"Sure you didn't, Shawn. Sorry to break this to you, but you meant every word." Henry didn't look angry at Shawn, much to Shawn's surprise. He had always thought of anger as his dad's default emotion regarding him, though this time he wasn't sure what his father was feeling. Shawn, the person trained to notice details, didn't see the clues in his dad's expression.

"Let's just get today over with," Shawn muttered, finishing off his beer. Placing it on the counter, he realized it had joined a few other bottles on the counter. "Dad, how many beers have you had?" He didn't wait for an answer and instead counted the bottles. "You're on your fourth?" he said, looking at his dad. Sure enough, Henry appeared to be in that in-between area between drunk and sober. Definitely not drunk, but sure as hell getting there. Shawn sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.

"How much is this going to cost him?" Shawn asked the bartender. Henry looked up in bewilderment.

"Shawn, what the hell are you doing? I can pay for my own drinks."

Shawn threw a few bills on the counter. "You can pay me back," he said, zipping up his jacket.

Henry snorted. "Considering all the money you've borrowed from me, this is more like paying me back."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "I paid you back that twenty. It just mysteriously disappeared from your wallet." Before Henry could start up that particular argument again, Shawn quickly ushered him out of the bar. Henry breathed in the fresh air and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He began to walk away when Shawn grabbed him by the arm. "Where are you going?" he asked. "Are you sure you want to drive right now?"

"Shawn, do I look like an idiot?" Before Shawn could answer the rhetorical question, Henry continued, "Lassiter drove me down here from the police station, and got a call from the station before he could join me. I told him he should go and that I could find my own way home if he didn't get back before I was ready to go."

Shawn raised his eyebrows. "What, you were going to walk? A bit far, isn't it?"

"Not all of us are scared of walking a few miles, Shawn," Henry said, growing impatient with his son's games.

"Dad, there was a raccoon after me. By going on that hike I would have been a sitting duck," Shawn insisted. "And I think it's a little more than a few miles."

Though he'd never admit it, Shawn would be worried about his dad if he tried to walk home in his condition. The man looked tired enough as it was without adding a three mile walk to his troubles. Shawn groaned internally. "Dad, wait here a second," he said, going inside. Not knowing if Henry would heed his order, Shawn quickly gave his keys to the bartender, saying he'd be back for them tomorrow. When he jogged back outside, Henry had miraculously stayed where he was. Shawn tapped him on the shoulder. "How about we take a bus?"

Not waiting for his answer, Shawn began walking towards the nearest bus stop. Henry sighed in exasperation, but followed. It was a clear night, with no clouds to obscure the stars. The slight balminess of the city blew about Shawn and Henry's jackets and made for a cooler night. Shawn stuffed his hands into his pockets and kicked away a pebble that was in his path. His dad seemed to be deliberately avoiding eye contact as he sat down on the weathered bench. Shawn held onto the faded bus stop sign with one hand and leaned back from it.

"So what case is Lassie working on?" he said, for a lack of anything else. His dad was often the silent type, and not always one to start up a conversation. One thing that Shawn had learned through all of the awkward silences that he had endured was that cop talk often got his dad to open up a little more. This time, however, Henry just shrugged.

"He didn't say which one. I assume the Hardison case, since that's the one you've been working on."

Shawn nodded and didn't attempt to get any more conversation out of his dad. If Henry Spencer didn't feel like talking, you didn't. The results usually weren't rewarding enough to make up for the effort. The streets were emptying out as the residents of Santa Barbara began to head in and fall asleep. The only people who were left were the brave dog owners who endured having to walk their pets even at this odd hour, and the occasional teens hanging out and moaning about their troubles. Shawn looked up at the sky and his mind automatically found the different constellations that his mom had once shown him. He had soon found most of them though, and looked at his watch. Damn it, waiting in the middle of nowhere for a bus was one thing, but waiting while his dad had that disappointed look on his face was something he didn't want to deal with today.

Two headlights cut through the darkness as the small, blue bus rolled to a stop in front of them. The door creaked open and the bus driver nodded politely at them. Henry shuffled down the aisle without acknowledging the man and took a seat in the back. He sighed when he saw Shawn at the front of the bus making small talk with the bus driver.

"Shawn!" he called, just wanting to go home already. His son threw him a grin and he walked over to Henry.

"Come on Dad, Bill and I were just starting to chat," he said sitting in the seat across from Henry. Shawn had felt relieved that things had seemed back to normal with that "Shawn!" but Henry just sighed and sat back in his seat. Henry looked around the bus, his eyes taking in the scene. There were few people on it, only the bus driver, and a man near the front who held his girlfriend's hand. Fiancé, Henry thought, noticing the rings on their fingers. He pulled his eyes away from them and over to Shawn. His son had apparently given up on him and was now looking out the window as the bus rolled along. Henry felt a twinge of regret. He knew he was nursing a grudge right now. It didn't seem much to ask to be angry for one night, especially with all the grudges that Shawn had held over the years, but it was still too hard to stay angry at the kid. Especially today.

Shawn, feeling Henry's gaze on him, turned and gave Henry one of his trademark grins. That's what Henry remembered most. His memory took that image and clung to it that entire night. The picture of Shawn, half turned towards him, giving him that smile. Later Henry would remember the smile and think of it as the soldier's last, hope-filled smile before they went out on the battlefield, not thinking about the family about to be left behind.

Shawn didn't see the headlights coming from outside his window as the bus drove past the green light into the intersection. The bright light didn't blind him; he didn't have to squint to see past it. He didn't have to see his face, harshly illuminated by the light for that single moment. He didn't have to see his own features, looking innocent and small in comparison to the light that commanded the whole bus. He never had to see his head jerking backward violently as the window behind him broke into a thousand tiny mirrors. Shawn never saw the semi-truck as it crashed into the bus with a violent concussion.