The day that Shawn Spencer realized that he had no intention of skipping out of town came after he’d been at Psych for over a year. He didn’t do anything stupid, like taking his bike and driving off without telling anyone, but he did mainline on Smarties, Fruit Roll-ups, and pineapple smoothies. When Gus found him passed out at the office the next morning, with what felt like the worst hangover of his life, Shawn managed to deflect his friend’s concern by letting him accidentally discover that the entire Fruit Roll-up stash was missing.
That evening, Shawn reluctantly admitted to himself that he must have grown up—only a little bit, though, not enough to really count. He no longer felt like he needed to be constantly on the move. He certainly wasn’t at peace—things were never peaceful when he was around, he made sure of that—but he was actually happy. What he’d told his father when he’d first started the agency was actually still holding true. There were constant challenges, new problems and endless ways to solve them every day. And even after a full year, he was still okay with that.
At that point, he rushed off and spent the next hour in front of his bathroom mirror, meticulously checking to make sure his hairline hadn’t started receding because of his traitorously mature thoughts. Thankfully, his awesome hair was still safe.
He found lots of reasons to think about his not-receding hair over the next few months, which gave him a convenient excuse not to think about increasingly frequent occurrences when he was the most matur- no, he decided to stop thinking that word. Okay, the many times when he was the most sane person around.
Although Shawn was tempted to deal with that little revelation with another sugar binge, he limited himself to a pack of Ho-hos and a beer, figuring that the odd combination would keep him from going overboard. He just wasn’t used to being the reliable one. He was the fun guy who breezed into towns across the country—heck, across the world—and lightened up peoples’ lives. He gave them fun times and memories they’d talk about forever. He got them into trouble, back out again, and then he was gone with a wave and a smile, and sometimes a few souvenirs.
Shawn was disturbingly quiet over the next few days, trying to figure out what, besides the oddity of the situation, was bothering him. It wasn’t that there was a problem, but he needed to figure things out in his head, define them. As much as he liked chaos, the need for some degree of order had been painstakingly drilled into his brain.
He was returning to the police station to give a statement after a bust that had gone down almost an hour out of town when he realized that the station felt as much like home as the Psych office did. Shawn hadn’t felt so comfortable in the station since he’d been in middle school, and yet, over the past year and a half, it had become a part of him again. And this time, it was actually for him, for Shawn Spencer, not just for Henry Spencer’s kid.
Things came together for him in a flash. And just like that, he knew how and he knew who. It wasn’t Jules, or Lassie, Buzz or Allen, or any of the dozens of other officers he knew by name. No, he had one person to thank for giving him back his home; Interim Chief Karen Vick. He was new to this business of owing things to someone other than Gus (or his father, not that he’d ever admit it), but he knew that no matter how much he tried, he’d never be able to repay her. Still, when he heard about the chance to remove the Interim from that title...well, that seemed like a pretty good place to start.