Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Back Then:

Fiddleford wrung his hands, twisting them in his shirt. He could hear the doorbell echoing through the New Jersey house, bouncing off the high walls and up into the second floor. The Pines Residence had seemed smaller across the street - mushed into the long line of apartments lining the rode. Now, standing at the top of the steps, the thick door looked like a heavy barricade to keep people out and maybe ... maybe to keep him IN if he let himself be invited past the threshold.

Fiddleford pulled in a few deep breaths and tugged at his collar. This internship was a huge opportunity - but he wondered if it was much a good idea. The biggest crime boss in the whole city - no, the whole STATE. What if he found something he shouldn't? What if they didn't like him? What if he failed and they decide to toss him in Glass Shard Bay. Tossed him with nothing but a metal weight and a lung full of air to swim with the fishes?

The door opened and Fiddleford stepped away - almost tripping back a notch. He looked up, into the illuminated image of a tall burley man in a sharp plaid suit. His eyes were dark under the shadow of a fedora, and he glowered down with what Fiddleford could only interpret as a menacing stare.

"McGucket?"

Fiddleford stared into the dark shades, his mind blank as his breath slipped out. A moment went by, then another. His eyes widened.

"Y-y-yes! Ah, that'll be me." He held out a hand, scrambling to shake off his nerves. "Fiddleford McGucket. Here for the - th - th' uh, internship."

Filbrick Pines reached out and gave Fiddleford an iron shake. He turned and gestured, not catching Fiddleford's wince as he rubbed his fingers. They went in and walked down a hall. Coming to an entrance of stairs Filbrick ordered him to 'Wait here,' before leaving to a sitting room on the left.

The moment the older man disappeared, Fiddleford let out a sigh of relief, feeling as if the worst might be over. Then his mind supplied a whole new series of disasters, and he waited, looking around the room for some sign of just what he was waiting for. Someone came up on his right - his gaze jerk, and he turned at the new presence.

A teenager, his age it looked like. A round jaw that was trying to square itself out, and an expression that looked Fiddleford up and down. The man leaned against the doorway with crossed arms and gave him a once over. Fiddleford went hot with embarrassment, realizing this must be his research partner. He tried to straighten, looking the part of genius teen scientist, and wondered how much sway Stanford Pines had in choosing his assistant.

Fiddleford took a step forward with an outstretched hand.

"You must be Stanford. I'm Fiddleford. Fiddleford McGucket - ,"

He couldn't finish before the slouching teen had bounced off and began circling him with a searching eye. His face was a grinning sneer of contempt, as if he knew something but couldn't quite appreciate it. Fiddleford watched with his eyes, feeling the gaze and it's harsh, judging stare. He didn't know what else to do. This was his first impression, so he just stood standing stiff, waiting.

The Pines boy stopped, directly behind him. Fiddleford didn't turn to look, but instead felt as a voice leaned in and whispered,

"You stop to stare at them and I'll wring you by that white pressed collar of yours, got it?"

Fiddleford's mind spun at the threat. He was about to whirl 'round - to voice his hesitant confusion - when feet came pounding down the stairs.

Around the corner came another man, almost identical to the first. He looked between the other teen and his guest. Fiddleford felt his examiner jump away before hiding his actions with a casual stretch.

"Heya," He dropped his arms and gave a small wave. "Your nerd came. Right on time."

"Stanley." The second finished his descent and gave the first - Stanley, not Stanford, the pieces were beginning to fit - a scathing glare. He turned back to Fiddleford, looking much more friendly. "I hope my brother hasn't bothered you. I'm glad you came to work with me. I've been looking forward to it."

The sudden change in attitude from Stanley and his father to the new man standing in front of him almost had Fiddleford melting in relief. He let himself smile and stepped forward.

"Thank you. And thank you for the opportunity." He held out a hand. "Fiddleford. Fiddleford McGucket." He didn't try adding the other's name, though certainly it had to be Stanford, but ...

His partner paused, looking at Fiddleford's outstretched arm. After a moment's hesitation, the man put any misgivings aside and offered his own hand with a smile.

"Stanford Pines. Nice to meet you."

His shake was firm, though nothing like his father's, but that wasn't what made Fiddleford mentally pause. He could feel the breadth in the shake, and counted a whole of six surprising fingers. It was then that he felt Stanley's burning glare dig into his skull. Fiddleford forced himself to keep his eyes up and a smile planted on his face. They separated and Stanford looked to his brother.

"So what are you doing, loafing around here?"

Stanley relaxed and leaned against the wall.

"Bored. Carla canceled again." He grinned wider. "But hey - good news for you. Now I've got more time to annoy - *cough* - I mean hang out with you. Right?"

Stanford rolled his eyes, not amused.

"Not today Lee."

"Nonsense." Stanley jumped up and skipped over to his brother. "Come on. Let's go show your new assistant your egghead lab." He wrapped an arm around Stanford's shoulder and led him up the stairs.

Stanford cast an apologetic look back at Fiddleford and gestured for him to follow. Seeming the odd man out of the situation, Fiddleford trailed after. He began to ascend, only to catch Stanley sneak an evil smirk over his shoulder. The Pines stuck out his tongue and turned back around, continuing on. Stanford jabbed Stanley with an elbow and muttered an amused 'Be nice,' not unaware of his twin.

Fiddleford watched the two climb, their footsteps in sync, their bodies a crude reflection of the other. His new scientific partner, a man with six fingers. A provoking twin with an attitude. He let out a silent, shuttering sigh, and wondered what he'd just gotten himself into.

***

Here Now:

The doorbell rang and it wasn't till Mabel heard the tell-tale voice greeting her mother that she leaped off the couch and skidded to a halt, hands on her hips in front the older woman. Great Mrs. Pines straightened and leveled a cool gaze down at her grandchild. 

"Well?"

Mabel beamed.

"27!" Her voice was laced with pride. 

A small smirk crossed her grandma's lips.

"33."

Mabel's eyes widened in hurt and shock before she shook her head and set her expression with a determined look. Spinning on her heel she ran for the knitting needles while her mom rolled her eyes.

"She's twelve. Don't you think this running competition is a bit childish? You can't just let her win?"

Grandma Pines snorted and made for the kitchen.

"You kidding? I've a reputation to up hold. Ain't no kid gonna out-knit me."

Mabel began to fume to her brother in the background, all about how 'this time she'd make 100 and do it with PEARL stitching and everything!' and Grandma Pines gave a small, fond smile.

Mr. Pines came in and gave his mom a grin. They hugged, Grandma Pines cooing over her son and how big he'd gotten ('And fat. What're you doing putting on weight? You're wife shouldn't be tolerating that!' - 'Mom,') while Mrs. Pines glanced at her kids. She shut the sliding door between the living room and the three adults in the kitchen, her smile dropping as she turned back to her mother-in-law.

"So." She glanced at her husband and they shared a look.

All the playfulness emptied from the air. Grandma Pines straightened and put on a disapproving scowl.

"This is ridiculous. I didn't have to come out here just to tell you the same thing I did on the phone."

Mr. Pines sat down and his wife stepped over and leaned her back against the counter. Mr. Pines ran a hand through his hair.

"Look, I know what you said, I just - ," he glanced over his shoulder at his wife, " - we just, wanted to make sure it was fine."

Grandma Pines waved her hands, dismissing the idea.

"Of course it's fine. Thirty-five years I've relied on that man. Almost since you were just a gum-nibbling pain in my neck." She gave her son a wry loving smile before going on. "You're in a rough patch. You've got two kids. A wife. A house and bills. I don't understand what you've got against asking for a little money till you can land back on your feet."

Mrs. Pines bounced off the counter and stepped over.

"It's just that." She let out a sigh as she pulled out a chair and sat in it. "Well from what I've heard he's ... ," She frowned, unsure of just how to put her doubts into words.

Grandma Pines crossed her arms.

"I've known Stan Pines since he was a snot nosed teenager. He may have inherited some - ," She waved a wrist, unsure how to put it " - unsavory portion of the family business, but he's still the same knucklehead my brother-in-law always was. Why - I remember when one time Shermy had him in a head-hold, rubbin' up his hair and ... ," her eyes went distant as memories came back to her. A nostalgic smile grew on her lips as she stared at nothing, remembering the brothers and all their old shenanigans. She remembered laughing as her husband would tease his younger sibling and only her pity would get him to let up as she smiled down at the teenager's pout while Shermy would just laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

She'd loved his laugh.

She remembered a knock at her door. A police man on her front step. Standing outside the old place, the building nothing more than rubble in the ashes. How quickly she'd gone from numbed shock to sobbing tears. Not knowing where he'd come from, but finding herself a broken mess in her brother-in-law's arms as Stan patted her back, soothing the ache of the loss as she tried to piece together how she could possibly be widowed when she was barely even pregnant with her first kid. How her life was somehow still going when her husband's was already over and her kid's hadn't even started.

She banished the thoughts from her mind, her eyes focusing as she caught sight of the couple sitting in front of her, their worries for their own future palpable. She sighed.

"I'll talk to him. He'll give you the money. You'll be fine."

Mr. Pines folded his fingers together, his brow furrowed.

"I know he helped you when I was a kid, but now - I mean - ,"

"Get a job." Grandma Pines stood from her chair, wincing at a crick in her back. She straightened and glared at her son. "If you're so worried about it, find another job and get back on your feet. Yeesh, no wonder you're gaining weight. Sitting about so lazy all the time. Worrying more about things that don't matter that getting yourself back out there." She turned to head out. "Now where are those kids. I wanna spend some time with a few young'ins that actually have two cents."

Mr. Pines rolled his eyes.

"Mom."

She laughed, glancing over her shoulder.

"Yeah, that's right." She turned and slid open the door. "Hey, you two. Wanna play a board game or somethin'?"

Mrs. Pines let out a sigh and gave her husband a 'what can you do?' look.

Dipper went to get the board games from the closet, but his mind was turning the word's he'd eaves dropped around and around in his head. He knew about his great uncle, but distantly. He remembered meeting him once. A long, long time ago. Suddenly the man seemed even more mysterious than he'd imagined.

***

Deep in the heart of New Jersey, a well built, two story residence of considerable size, stood in proud condition. Too proud, some might say. It had modest decorations of the expensive variety decking the small stone steps leading up to the door, and a Victorian look that contrasted the rest of the urban city apartments lining the crowded street. The inside was no different. The furnishings looked torn between lavish excess and frugal penny-pinching. A cheep thrift-shop's sofa, cushioned with intricate throw pillows. Extravagant chandeliers, lighted with dim watted bulbs.

The handyman sure had his hands full with keeping the place up, but it was the secretary - a redhead - that rapped on the main office door with an expression of utter dispassion. A gruff voice called out - "It's open," - but Wendy Corduroy had already stepped inside.

Stan Pines glanced up from behind his desk and scowled.

"What's the point of knocking if you're just going to barge - ?"

"Mail." Wendy dropped a stack of letters onto the desk and they scattered across the other various papers.

"Hey." Stan straightened in his chair and began organizing.

Wendy turned with a flip of her hair and headed out. Stan stared after her, looking annoyed.

"Was that all you wanted?"

"Pretty much." She grabbed the door's handle and tossed it shut without looking behind her.

Stan rolled his eyes. He turned his attention to the envelopes, leaning back in his chair and flicking through them. Outside the office, Wendy sat back down at her own desk, picking up a magazine and kicking her feet up. Soos came by, holding a toolbox, baseball cap spun around on his head. He stopped when he came to his co-working giving her a quick wave.

The phone on her desk rang and she picked it up.

"Pines residence. What d'you want?"

Back in his office, Stan eyed an interesting note with no return address. He dropped the rest and grabbed his letter opener. Inside was a single piece of paper folded in three. It had just two sentences.

Nothing like coming back with a bang. You know what I want - watch out.

His shoulder's stiffened. He flipped it over, eyes searching for something else. Anything to better explain the note. He heard Wendy shouting from the hall.

"Hey! Police Department on line one!"

Stan's eyes jumped to his phone. The red dot was blinking over the number. Wendy shouted again.

"And don't ignore it this time. I think they said something about 'family' ?" Wendy turned to Soos and side whispered a comment. "Does Mr. Pines even have family?"

Soos shrugged.

Stan picked up the phone. A familiar voice could be heard on the other side.

"Mr. Pines?" It was the sheriff - Blubs.

Stan responded through gritted teeth.

"Speaking."

"Mr. Pines there's a lady here that says she's your sister-in-law. And uh, there are two kids. They called in a kidnapping. Some one broke into their house."

Stan was out of his seat, already stepping around his desk.

"I'll be right over." He hung up the phone before he got a response. Heading into the hall he sped for the door, his two employees glancing up at his rush. They watched him with their eyes as he pulled on his coat and hat. He was out the door heading for his car as he pulled out the phone in his pocket.

The dial rung and someone picked up. He spoke first, stopping with a handle on the red Diablo.

"Something's come up." He opened his door and got in. "We've got a big problem."

***

Chapter Text

Here Now:

Stan Pines stepped into the police precinct. At his entrance a hush fell over the room. He ignored it, taking strong deliberate steps forward. He turned a corner and spotted his sister-in-law sitting in a chair against a wall, waiting with two younger kids. The twins, he noted.

Grandma Pines held a handkerchief clutched in between two hands, her lips pulled thin, her face somber. Stan came right over.

"What happened. Tell me everything."

She glanced up and her eyes glistened with relieved tears. But she took one look at his business expression and nodded, face turning resolute. There was a moment of silence. And then she broke.

"Stan! It's so terrible! Who'd want to kidnap my son?" She dotted the corners of her eyes with the cloth as her face twisted in grief.

Stan knelt in front of her and put a hand on her arm. "Tell me everything. Start from the beginning." Grandma Pines looked down at him, grateful, then began speaking. Stan immediately regretted his choice of words when she began a long speech about her preference in yarn colors. However it wasn't long before he got the gist.

The younger twins were outside, wandering around the neighborhood - heading for the park or some other. When they came back the door stood ajar. The inside was a wreck, it looked like a struggle had ensued, and their parents were nowhere to be found. They'd called the police, and their grandmother had been contacted.

"And no one has any idea who did this?"

Grandma Pines shook her head.

"None. No one's called. No threats or ransoms. And I just can't think of anyone who'd want to hurt either of those two. My little boy!"

Stan glanced over at the twins to see their heads downcast, hair covering their eyes. Their fingers gripped the edge of their chairs, but next to each other they held hands. Stan straightened, a determined look setting on his face.

"I'll see what the police turned up." He cringed a little on the inside, the full force of his doubt in his town's law enforcement system bubbling to the surface, before adding, "Don't worry. I'll take care of this. I'll get them back, no matter what." He turned around to speak to the officers, but not before hearing his sister-in-law add her word of gratitude.

"Thank you Stan."

He turned to see the sheriff approach and went over to him. "I want everything you've gathered already in relations to this missing persons case."

Sheriff Blubs fixed how his hat sat on his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that. It's confidential."

Stan glowered down at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took in a deep breath before looking up. "Technically," he waved his wrist and broke into a longwinded lie. "Confidential is only as confidential as one wants confidential to stay confidential to confidential, and in the case of confidential cases of confidence, what is confidential shouldn't stay confidential because the security of such confidence in a the occurrence of confidential inaccuracies is compromised - because of lack of confidence. Thus the confidential information in this confidential conversation, via the confidential and secure confidence of the location, would be perfectly acceptable to be given - in confidence - to a confidential and secure person in the form of confidential information, upon insuring confidence, in both said secure confident and confidential locations and conversations. Meaning you can be confident that confidential information is okay to confidentially give to my persons, which is a confidential and confident and not in anyway compromised person. So basically ... that's why you should give me that file. So ... the file. Hand it over." He made a gimme gesture.

The Sheriff took a long moment to stare at him, his expression a poker-face. Stan stood, unwilling to back down, but a hint of nervousness entering his stance. Another second passed. The sheriff turned.

"Well, I can't argue with that reasoning." He picked up a file that was sitting abandoned on a desk where Stan could have easily grabbed it when no one was paying attention. "Here you go." He handed it to him.

It was a pitifully small vanilla folder that left Stan with an overall sour feeling as the sheriff turned and walked away. He opened it and glanced inside, turning back towards his family. His sister-in-law came up, catching him off guard as she was right behind him. He shut the folder and gave her a questioning glance.

"Yes?"

"Stan, I want you to take the kids."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"You heard me."

He stared at her, dumbstruck at her demand. He shook his head. "Wh- why? You do it."

She folded her arms looking cross. "Excuse me, but just because I may not have some fancy business to run, doesn't mean I'm not a busy gal - ,"

He stopped her. "No, that's not what I meant." He waved a hand. "I'm not - you really think I should have kids around? I've never - I'm really not - They'd be better off with you. I'm sure their parents would prefer it."

"Stan Pines." She stuck her hands on her hips and glared at him with a determined look in her eyes. "Those kids are some of the smartest I've ever seen. Their nice. And fun. And gosh darn it, you're gonna spend some time with them."

"But - ,"

"No buts."

He glowered, but she went on. "It'll do you some good, and maybe ... ," She paused, her next words less sure. "Maybe you don't need the extra encouragement, but it certainly can't hurt havin' those two around to remind you just what exactly is at stake here." She looked to him.

Stan let out a heavy sigh and dropped his head in his hand. She gave herself a self satisfied nod and turned to walk off. Stan glanced up between his fingers and watcher her go. He dropped his arms and turned to look at the twins.

Dipper was staring at his hands. He mentally counted off in his head.

Six. There were six. Stan Pines had six fingers.

Dipper glanced up and flushed when realized he'd been caught staring. He quickly glanced away, avoiding his great-uncle's gaze, but not without noticing Stan tuck the file away in his coat before slipping his hands into his pockets and giving him a distant glance.

***

Back Then:

"Solder." Stanley passed the tool. "Needle-nose." Stanley passed the pliers. "Screws." Stanley passed a bag of screws. "Ratchet." Stanley passed the wrench.

Stanford paused. He held back out the wrench without looking away from his machine.

"Ratchet." Stanley passed a Hex key. The two metal tools knocked against each other and Stanford looked up. He looked between the two tools he didn't need and frowned. "Ratchet Stanley. These aren't ratchets."

"Hm?" Stanley was sitting on the edge of a bench, looking down.

Stanford stood up and finally paid his brother a glance. "What are you doing?" Stanley didn't look up. Stanford put his tool down, then after a moment yanked the Hex key still hovering in his brother's hand. "Stanley."

Lee pulled himself away and looked up distracted. He shook his head, confused. "What?"

"What are you doing?" Ford stepped away from his bench and looked to see his brother holding open a book with a hand. "Are you reading?"

Stanley looked between his brother and his book. His eyes strayed to the table. He grabbed for the ratchet. "Here." He held it up and went back to looking at his book.

Stanford took the tool, his gaze never leaving his brother. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he moved to go sit back down.

The binding of the of the book became visible. 

"Wait, is that my journal?"

Stanley snapped the book shut with a grin. "Maybe." He glanced to Ford. "What's it to ya?"

Ford pursed his lips and went to yank his journal back. "What do you think you're doing, reading my things?" He yanked it free of his brother's grasp and gave Lee a glare.

"I'm just memorizing stuff from your notes to annoy you with. Don't get so huffy."

Ford groaned. "Why do you work so hard, to make my life so miserable."

"Oh, poor you." Stanley's sarcastic tone mocked him.

"Stay out of my stuff."

"Here I'll tell you why. 'Cause it's so fun. Like - like listen to this. Videntis Omnium? More like you're the Videntis Omnium to a skunks rear - ha ha!"

"You don't even know what half of the stuff in here means. If you aren't going to appreciate it for what it's worth - stay away from my journal."

"Nah, I'll just take it when you aren't looking."

"What?"

"I said - ,"

"Just give me the level."

Stanley rolled his eyes and passed the level. "You know, you can't blame me. Not really."

"Of course I can." Stanford grabbed the level and turned to sit back down. He glanced at Lee. "Blame you about what?"

"About not knowing what all - ," Lee gestured to the machine, "this is. I mean, what are you even doing here?"

"What are you doing here? Bugging me?" Ford sat back down.

"Carla had some sort of hippie thing. Thought I'd bail." His gaze moved to Stanford and he frowned. "Besides. I thought you didn't mind the 'grunt-work,' wasn't that right?"

"I didn't mind, when the 'grunt' was silent and helpful. Not buggery."

"Get over yourself."

"You first 'Mr. Macho.' "

"Is it too much just to wanna know what you're getting up to? What it is the great Stanford Pines has been making that's big enough to impress pops? I mean," Stanley picked up a few machinery pieces and turned them over. "Seriously, what is all this? You building another atomic bomb or something? Am I an accessory to some humanities crime by helping you with all this ... 'grunt-work?' " He looked over at his brother and raised a brow, challenging him.

Stanford looked around at his things, silent. He dropped his gaze to his journal and stoked the cover with a thumb, thinking how to explain. Stanley's expression grew concerned as the seconds wore on. When almost half a minute passed Stanley's eyes widened in horror.

"Oh my gosh, you're making a bomb."

Stanford rolled his eyes.

"Don't be daft. Nothing so crude ... ,"

Stanley let out a sigh of relief. He shook his head and grew annoyed.

"Well, it just proves how little I know to actually believe you'd be making - ,"

"It's not a bomb Lee."

"Then what is it?" Stanley gestured to the Journal. " 'Cause I've flipped through those things likee almost half a dozen times and all I get are those dumb knock-knock jokes."

"Hey."

Stanley's expression held no remorse, and Ford frowned. He looked around the room then tossed his journal onto the bench.

"Alright." He looked to his brother. "Knowing you - do you want the short answer or the long one?"

"Short. Obviously."

"In that case - I'm building a machine." Ford turned to get back to work.

"Oie! Don't short change me!"

"You said you wanted the short answer."

"Alright listen here," Ford felt Stanley suddenly land on the bench beside him. He matched his brother's glare, but listened. "Give it to me straight. No lectures. No essays." Stanley raised a hand, then pointed at the machine. "What on goods green earth is that?"

"Okay, okay. Look." Ford pulled his journal towards him and opened the cover to the first page. He started growing excited as he explained to a willing ear. "Mythos. Bibliographic accounts. Stories and recollections of ancients, deities, gods. I've always been into the weird. You know that. But when pops said there was nothing dangerous hiding in our closet, ma said why not? Every culture across the world believes in something supernatural that causes things beyond human comprehension. And right or wrong, the way I figure it - why not? Maybe ... maybe there's a central thread running through it all. Heaven, hell. Purgatory. Whatever. The only thing I care about is that - there's power there. Physical. Real. Power. Energy that can be measured in wattage. And what I can only assume - bigger than any nuclear bomb. If I can access it?" Ford looked awed by the very idea.

Stanley wrapped his head around that. He thought about his dad.

"We'd be millionaires? No - billionaires."

Stanford began to laugh.

"Lee - no. No, no, no." He shook his head, then looked at his journal with a smile. "Richer. Much richer.

"Seriously?" Stanley looked at nothing, confused with awe. "But ... What - what even comes after billionaire?"

"Exactly."

Stanley looked at his brother and for a moment he could see it. He could see his brother jettisoning them into a bright future of gold and money, built on the energy his machine harvested. Stanford - the golden goose of the Pines' family.

"You're serious? This ... this is actually a possible thing?"

"Beyond possible. A few more months and I'm almost done. I'm gonna show it at a science convention this March."

"Wow." Stanley didn't have much else to say. His mind was too filled with the image of all that gold his brother had put into it. " ... wow."

Stanford crossed his arms and looked at Lee's bliss with a grin.

"Pretty much." He looked down at his journal. "I'm gonna break open the gates of hell and take 'em for all their worth." He winked at his twin. "Lee style, right?"

Stanley laughed.

"You do whatever Ford. Keep me out of it."

"Oie. Maybe I won't share my innumerable riches with you after all - ,"

"Got it!" The twins turned and looked to see Fiddleford hobbling his way into the room trying to hold up a box loaded with circuitry. "This should do the trick a-okay. Got everything we need Stanford." He dropped it onto the bench with a huff and dusted his hands. Grinning over at his partner, his smile slipped when he caught sight of Stanley. "Ah. I see your brother's visitin' the lab." He gave Stanley a half heart wave. "Stanley."

"Fidds. You know, that outfit makes you look like the Videntis Omnium to a skunks rear."

Fiddleford looked at Stanley confused. "What?"

Ford rolled his eyes. "Lee."

Stanley grinned and crossed his arms. Fiddleford looked away, then turned to rummage through his box. Stanley leaned over to whisper in his brother's ear. "So ... does he know, or ... ?"

Stanford leaned in to whisper as well. "Sort of." He made a so-so gesture with a hand. "It's weird working with someone pa hired. He's worried about copy right and stuff, so I only outsource certain pieces while keeping the whole design to myself. But ... ," Stanford's face broke into a smile and shared a conspiratorial look with is twin. "You should've seen the stars in his eyes."

Lee raised a brow. "So he does know?"

"He couldn't say anything the whole rest of the day."

The twins broke into a laugh.

Fiddleford looked up.

"What's so funny boys?"

They looked at him and grinned wider. Fiddleford narrowed his eyes, confused but suspicious.

"It's about me isn't it?" He felt self-conscious for a moment, with no idea why. He frowned and with a tentative hand, turned to poke at his teeth. "Blasted spinach isn't it?"

***

Here Now:

"This is where you live?" Mabel looked up at the great wooden door, well adorned with brass carvings.

"Yes." Stan turned the key and pushed it open.

The twins stared into the entrance. It had a well sized mud room, set with a side bench and a coat hanger. Stan stepped inside and slipped off his coat, setting his hat onto a jutted out pole. He looked around and caught sight of the handy man.

"Soos." The twins stepped in after their uncle, pulling their few bags in behind them. Stan gave Soos a quick glance. "You're not heading out yet?"

Soos held up his coat. "Yeah."

"Can you find these two a room before you go? Any one will do."

"Sure thing Mr. Pines."

Stan nodded, glancing at Dipper and Mabel one last time before turning and walking away down the hall. The twins stared after him. Dipper grew even more nervous than before being left with a stranger. But Soos gave a them a smile.

"Hey dudes. Need help with your stuff?"

Mabel gave a meaningful nod. "Oh yeah." She strained to lift one of her luggages and Soos grabbed it, carrying it with ease.

Dipper couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Did you have to bring so much yarn?"

Mabel stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm not losing to Grandma."

Dipper smiled, letting himself be encouraged by his sister's spirit. Soos gestured down the hall, opposite the way their great-uncle had left.

"Over here. We'll get you guys set up." He let them step in front of him and trailed behind. "I'm Soos by the way. Oh, right. You already heard that, heh."

"I'm Mabel." Mabel turned to walk backwards and gave him a quick thousand watt smile, before shrugging and walking forwards again.

Dipper turned and gave a small wave.

"I'm Dipper." He let his eyes fall back under his hat, and kept walking.

Soos nodded. "Cool."

"Hey Soos?" Mabel trailed her hand along the wall.

"Over here." Soos pointed to their right and they headed towards a set of stairs.

They began to climb, tugging the bags up each step and Mabel started again. "So do you work for our Grunkle Stan?"

"Sure do." Dipper slipped and Soos caught him from tumbling down. "Whoa, gotcha."

Dipper nodded. "Thanks." They kept climbing. Dipper glanced at their guide. "So ... what do you do around here?"

They reached the top of the stairs and Soos straightened.

"I fix stuff. But I'm also a bit of a - a liaison sorta dude. For my family." He pointed to a room. "You guys can stay over there. They went over and looked around and Soos helped them fix the beds and open the windows that were in real need of some oil. When they were all done, Soos waved at them and started to leave. "Alright. See you dudes later."

Mabel bounced to the edge of the couch and leaned against it's arm. "Hey Soos?"

"Yeah?"

"Hypothetically. If a random someone's parents were kidnapped ... how good do you think our Grunkle Stan could find them?" Soos stopped and blinked, staring between the two of them. Mabel realized her mistake and looked down to fiddle with a strand of hair. "I mean ... hypothetically ... ,"

"Well, I guess ... ," Soos took off his hat and scratched his head with a hand. "I guess if anyone could find them, then Mr. Pines could." He gave them a reassuring smile. "Yeah. He's great at that kind of stuff. You know ... hypothetically."

Dipper gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks Soos."

"No problem. You can trust Mr. Pines ... ," his smile fell. "Well kind of."

Dipper's smile fell too. "What's that mean?"

Soos glanced between the two. "Uh ... ," He shrugged. "Nothing really." He turned to leave and waved. "I'll see you tomorrow." He walked out and left.

Mabel and Dipper shared a look. "Hey Dipper?" Mabel slid off the couch and stepped over to her brother. "Do you think Mom and Dad are okay?"

Dipper stared after where Soos had left. Questions roamed his mind. He shook his head. "I don't know. But we'll probably find them."

Mabel nodded. "Alright."

***

From their window on the second floor, the evening light burned through, throwing a golden sheen, like a blanket across the whole room. Dipper leaned against the open door's frame, peeking towards the stairs for any sign of his Great Uncle. He looked over his shoulder at Mabel knitting. "We're not just supposed to ... sit here? The whole time?"

Mabel made an exaggerated last pull of her needles. "FIVE. Thirty more to go."

Dipper tried to smile, "I don't think Grandma expects you to - ,"

"Exactly! Which is exactly why she'll never see it coming." She spared him a glance before pulling out another ball of yarn. "Numero sixo, get ready for ... ," she spun a rainbow colored ball in her hand, trying to give it a name, "cotton candy."

Dipper rolled off the frame and stepped out into the hallway. It was mostly silent. The whole house was large, but not many people inside. The entire upstairs had at least three other guest rooms. He started making his way downstairs, letting his hand glide against the rail.

The wood creaked, he glanced behind himself, head turning -

"MABEL!" She stood inches from his face, fingers tangled in her needles and yarn. Dipper stepped down a stair, taking in a breath.

"Well don't leave me." Mabel kept walking, reaching the bottom step. Dipper looked where she came, then went after her, grumbling under his breath. 

"Stop sneaking up on me like that ... ," 

They wandered into the entrance again, no one in sight. A corner for someone's desk stood to the side, but they wandered down a hallway and into the kitchen. Still there wasn't anyone there. Mabel opened the fridge.

"Don't - ," Dipper shut it and Mabel gave him a sour look. They looked around more, walking back down the hall, into another to find a living room with couches and a dining table - the perfect place to entertain guest. But it was old, unkempt, and ... really musty. Everything needed a dust.

Walking back down the hall towards the entrance, Dipper paused at a door. Mabel stopped and looked back at him, then the door. She knit another few stitches, waiting, but when Dipper did nothing more than look it up and down, she let out a sigh and went to throw it open.

"Grunkle Staaan?"

"Mabel!"

No one was inside. Dipper peeked through while Mabel did a small spin about, absorbing it all. Dipper stepped into the office - the room filled with a bookshelf, a large desk, some sitting chairs - an office. He felt uneasy. The whole house almost felt empty. Their Great Uncle didn't seem to be anywhere - and from the outside he could SEE that the place was HUGE. Bigger than the already large space they'd explored provided.

Mabel ran to the other side of the desk and bounced into a seat, delighted to find out it turned. She spun, twirling on the spot over and over. Dipper was drawn to a pair of drawers with a pictures framed on top of it. Their Grunkle with other people doing various things. His eyes drifted up, to shelves drilled near the ceiling. Mabel stopped her spinning and let her eyes swirl with a grin. They focused and caught where Dipper was looking. She glanced between the two sides of the room, and at all the secrets sitting up high, dusty.

Mabel jumped off the chair and went for another one, more steady. She pushed it against the far side wall, below the shelf - and Dipper turned to look.

"Mabel. What are you doing?" Mabel stood on the chair and went to reach for the shelves. Dipper ran over to her and tried to pull at her arm, looking around for Stan. "Get down."

"Help me up," She shook off his hands and pointed towards the shelves.

"I'm not going to - ,"

"Come on. I can almost reach." She gave her eyebrows a little wag in the direction of the shelf.

Dipper bit his cheek in quick concentration, then gave in. "Get down, then climb up my shoulders." They manuevered around, Dipper feeling the rough rubber of Mabel's shoe biting into his arms as he hoisted her up. "Ow." She stuck out her tongue with a grin.

Turning her head, she looked up and reached for a box at the top of the shelf. Dipper was able to push her far enough to touch the lid, and she pulled up, peering inside.

"What is it?" Dipper shifted his weight and Mabel tilted to get a better look.

Inside were pieces. If Mabel could call it that. There were bright silver metals, placed with dials and barrels, and far more complicated pieces than she could understand. In it's very center, Mabel realized she could see a dial of colored liquid almost luminescent and glowing.

"It's a ... ," She squinted at how each part was placed inside the foam case, a solid handle towards the base of the right, and a more pointed collection of pieces in the upper left. "I think it's a ... a gun?"

"What?"

Dipper lost balance, slipped against the side of the chair to the ground. Mabel went falling -

A pair of hands caught her and held her in his arms as she gasped at the shock of it. Her eyes floated up. Into Stan's displeased expression.

"Grunkle Stan ... ," Mabel gave her great Uncle a half smile. "Heeeey ... ,"

Stan slowly placed her onto her feet.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Well we couldn't - ," Dipper scrambled to his feet after the shock and slid closer to the exit. "We couldn't really ... find you. Anywhere."

"And that gives you excuse to go through my things?"

"Well we - ,"

Mabel interrupted. "Where were you? And what about everything you keep in your office and in this creepy house? And what about our parents? What are you going to do about finding them? What about us? What about us Grunkle Stan? Me and Dipper?" Mabel starred her great Uncle down.

Stan looked affronted. He waved the questions off and gestured for them to leave the room. "I assure you, I'll ... you're in good hands you simply - I just - ," His hand tightened around the wood of the door. "What do you want from me? Leave my things be and go ... ,"He thought around.

"Don't just leave us alone!"

Dipper agreed with is sister. "Can you blame us for being restless?"

Stan looked between the twins feeling disadvantaged with is situation. "Fine." He looked around his office, then led them out the door. In the hallway he shut the room behind them. "I will ... ," He seemed to search for some answer to give them - and then his face cleared as a thought came to him. "You can come with me. Tomorrow. I'm sure I'll be very busy, and then I'll have to deal - I mean, keep you busy - entertained - tomorrow." He even smiled at the genius of it. "Does that sound better?"

Dipper and Mabel looked between each other, then nodded before stepping back and disappearing the way they came, Mabel gathering up her string proper as they retreated. 

Stan thought over the idea, satisfied as he turned back to his office. "Tomorrow. It'll be 'tomorrow me's' issue." He tsked under his breath before disappearing back into that side of the house.

***

Mabel pulled herself up and rubbed her eyes. Bright sunlight streamed in through the window, throwing the room into a golden sheen.

A loud fist knocked on the door. Dipper's head ducked up at the sound before bobbing back to the pillow. A voice came from outside. "Come on you two. We're leaving." The twins pushed themselves to sit up. Another knock hit against the wood. "And try to be quick about it, the breakfast special closes early."

The younger twins shared a bleary-eyed look. 

A half hour later they were back in the red car, their Grunkle at the wheel.

"You'll like this place. It's probably just about my favorite." He was glancing at them every now and then through his rear mirror. "It's the 'Greasy's Diner,' but don't let the name fool you. It's more oily than anything else."

Dipper spared his uncle a glance from his side window. "Doesn't that mean the same thing?"

Stan shrugged. "Heck if I know. But I used to come here all the time. Best pancake stack in all of New Jersey. For the life of me I can't remember why I ever stopped going."

They pulled into the parking lot and he stepped out of the car. Stan held open Mabel's door and when she decided to give a small curtsy he grinned wide.

"Madame."

Mabel giggled. "Sir."

They walked in and found themselves a booth, the twins sitting on one end, Stan on the other. "Anything under ten, okay? I'm not made of money."

"Dipper!" Mabel showed him her menu. "They have those chocolate smiley face pancakes!"

Dipper glanced at it. "Just get the waffles," he said.

"Waffles? Please." Stan pulled up his own menu. "Just get the pancakes."

A waitress stepped up, scratching a last note onto her pad as she came over. She put it away, grin plastered on her face as she greeted them.

"What can I do for you folks - ?" She glanced at them and froze. Stan's eyes shot up, darting to her then away. There was a long, awkward silence while Dipper and Mabel stared between the pair of adults. The waitress broke with a cough and glanced down at her pad. "Mr. - uh ... Stan - Pines. Stan Pines. Been a while."

Stan nodded and glanced down at his menu. "Susan."

There was another long pause. Mabel continued looking between them. "What are you two - ?"

"What can I get you two?" Susan turned to the twins, bright smile back in place. "Anything to drink?"

Mabel tore her gaze from Stan and looked up at their waitress. She glanced back at her menu. "The chocolate smiley face pancakes please." She glanced back up, watching as Susan jotted that down.

"I'll have the same." Dipper handed her his menu, eyes still glued to his great uncle.

"Sure thing." She took both their menus, then turned, a noticeable more hesitant, to Stan. "The ... the usual?"

Stan flicked his menu closed and grumbled his response. "Uh, yeah." He handed her his menu and for a moment they were both silent. He let go of it and the two of them broke out of their reverie. Susan gave him a quick nod and turned to go.

"Coming right up." She left.

Stan let his face drop into a hand and he began rubbing at him temples with a groan. "I just remembered why I don't come here anymore."

Mabel rubbed at her chin, eyes narrowed as she watched Susan step into the kitchen. Her eyes widened and she stared at Stan with a wide grin. "Oooo! Do you and our waitress like each other?"

Stan held up a warning hand. "Kid, just - don't even - ,"

"Mabel," Dipper elbowed her.

"Hey! What? I'll match make them." Mabel looked at the ceiling, thinking of Stan in a wedding tux.

Dipper picked at his silverware and eyed his great uncle. "Actually, what was that Grunkle Stan? Between you and our waitress."

Stan straightened. "None of your business. Now just - eat your food when it comes. We've got work to do."

***

"Grunkle Stan?"

Stan glanced over his shoulder.

"I'm on the phone kid. Not now." He turned forward again from where he was leaning against the red diablo in the parking lot. "Could you trace the letter?"

Dipper watched his great uncle talk while Mabel leaned against someone else's car. "Dipper, do you think I should have left her a note?"

Dipper shrugged. "He left a big enough tip. Maybe that's some kind of code they've got."

Stan glanced up at the sky with an exasperated look. "I know there was no return address. But it's things like this we have a private mailman on the payroll." He paused. "Seriously?" Another pause. Stan sighed. "Of course he did."

Dipper nudged Mabel and whispered over at her.

"Who do you think he's talking to?"

"Probably someone boring. Like ... a business person that sits in an office all day."

Dipper stared at Stan's back. His great uncle looked like he was growing frustrated.

"Not a single trace. Nothing. If I didn't know better I'd say it all vanished into thin air this time." Paused. "Do you hear me laughing?" Pause. "So now wha - ? What is it?" He waited, tapping his foot. Stan bounced off the car. "You're kidding." He waved at the twins. "Kids, in the car." Pause. "No, I don't care if it's connected or not. He can't do that." He gestured to them again. "In the car." He walked over to the driver's seat while Dipper and Mabel moved to get in. "Of course I'm bringing them. Where else are they gonna go?"

***

"Grunkle Stan?"

Stan glanced back in his rear view mirror. He stared back at the road. "What?"

Dipper looked over at his sister. Mabel was staring out of the window. He looked back over at Stan. "Where are we going?"

Stan shrugged. "Northwest manor."

"Where?"

"Preston Northwest. He owns the biggest banking enterprise in all of New Jersey. It's almost impossible to own money in this town and not do business with him or his company." Stan readjusted his grip on the wheel, his knuckles going white. "But he froze all my assets. He can't do that. I'm heading over to ask him just what the heck he thinks he's doing."

"Why would he do that?"

"Cause he's a pig-headed jerk. Thinks that just because I won't go the police, that he can push me around."

"Can he?"

"Fat chance. I don't need the police. They'd do just as much harm as good. No, I'll stick to my knuckledusters, thanks."

Mabel's hand slipped from under her chin. "What are knuckle dusters?"

Stan glanced back at them in the rear view mirror before rolling his eyes.

"Really big sling-shots used by Egyptian cavemen."

Mabel opened her mouth to say something else, then closed it and looked down confused. Dipper shook his head and glanced back up.

"Will this help ... find our parents?"

Stan's hands tensed against the wheel again, before they relaxed.

"No. Well yes. Here's a life lesson from your Grunkle Stan: The world runs on money. No dough? No resources. No co-operative folk to help out 'poor little kiddos' like you two. So just - let me drive and do my thing."

"Grunkle Stan? When you get your money back, can we go out for ice cream?"

Dipper threw her a look and Mabel stuck her tongue out at him. Stan rolled his eyes.

"Yeesh, you kids sure ask a lot of questions don't you? I told you before. I'm not made of money." 

***

Stan tapped his foot impatiently, arms crossed against his chest. The butler stayed as resilient as ever to the man's killing glare as he informed the Pines family waiting on the Northwest's doorstep of their position.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to make an appointment Sir."

"What happened to the last guy?"

"Retired. I'm his replacement."

Stan scratched the back of his head, his expression going soft for a moment as he whispered to himself. "Retired? Yeesh, I'm getting old."

He shook his head. "Look, I don't have time for you to get with the program. Let me in, or things might get messy." He leaned in and whispered in a conspiratorial manor, "and look. I have kids with me, see? We wouldn't want to let them catch wind of someone's face getting bashed in would we?"

Martin's face managed to turn a slight shade paler without showing a single other sign of alarm. Dipper stared at his great uncle, getting the impression that Stan didn't much care what he and Mabel saw, so long as he still got in. Martin took a step to the left and bowed.

"Right this way sir."

Stan put on a self-satisfied grin and let himself through, gesturing for the twins to do the same. They stepped into a huge foyer that was ten times larger than Stan's -  which now seemed almost quaint - front entrance. A huge glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, sparkling in the late morning sun. A wide staircase stretched down in a fork from both sides of a grand second floor. In between a long hallway cut through the house, matched by another to both the right and left, creating a T of three options to explore.

Stan strode forward, leading them with a confidence only gained by years of experience in that mansion. When they'd gotten well out of earshot of the doorman, Stan half leaned over and whispered to them with a grin and a wink,

"Anything small and valuable, just go ahead and feel free to slip that in a pocket. That'll be sure to tick him off if he ever finds out, but honestly I doubt it - he's got so much stuff."

Dipper and Mabel shared a look, but Mabel's eyes trailed to various shiny gems planted in the decor, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of owning them for herself. Dipper slugged her, surprised at how quickly she turned at the idea, and she shoved him to the floor with a childish glare.

Stan kept walking ahead of them and only gave a small glance over his shoulder.

"Hey, be nice you two. Or whatever. I don't know."

Dipper picked himself off the ground, dusted himself off, and they went on. Stan brought them into a large room with an elegant marble desk and several leather chairs for guests. The room was empty.

"Seriously?" Stan grabbed his phone out of his pocket and called a number. On the desk, a phone, connected to its base by a curled wire, echoed as it rang. Stan grimaced and ended the call. "You've got to be kidding."

"Stan Pines."

They all turned as a voice entered the room. Dipper and Mabel stared as a man in a three piece suit, silk tie, and golden cuff links entered. He stared down at Stan, his expression smug and self assured. "I should have guessed. No - I did guess. I've been expecting you."

Stan took a few angry strides forward, pointing his finger at Northwest's chest.

"I have got a bone to pick with you. Just where do you come off thinking you can get away with pulling a stunt like this?"

Preston gave Stan a distasteful glare before his eyes roamed past his head. He glanced back at Stan, brow raised.

"The children are new."

Stan didn't look away from his angry stare as he waved them off.

"Kids go play or something."

Preston took out a small bell and rang it. "My daughter will keep your ... dependents - entertained." A girl came from around the corner, and with a wave of his hand all three kids cautiously left Northwest's drawing room.

***

Dipper tapped his foot impatiently. He glanced next to him and Mable was twisting her fingers in odd positions to keep busy. She looked over at Dipper, boredom shinning through her eyes like a beacon. He glanced at the girl - Pacifica - sitting with crossed ankles and folded hands. She glanced at her dress, picked out a piece of lint and flicked it, then refolded her fingers snug in her lap.

Mabel started to sink deep into the velvet couch, a growing sense of irritation rising. She could see her brother's foot growing speed and they shared a look. Mabel bounced back up. "Hey uh, I have to - use the restroom - ,"

"Not in MY house you're not." Pacifica snapped her eyes over to her and stared her down. Mabel opened her mouth to retort, then closed it again, not knowing what to say. She looked back at Dipper.

Dipper glanced around the room. Behind their 'host' were a line of marble statues, each more detailed than the last. He looked from Pacifica to the effigies then got an idea. He faked sudden alarm, "Is that suppose to be cracking?" His hand shot up and he pointed behind her head.

Pacifica whirled in alarm, and Mabel glanced at it curious. But Dipper jumped up and yanked his sister's wrist, pulling her out of the room and down the hall.

Behind them they heard a sudden call of surprise, and then a litany of frustrated, unanswered commands. The twins turned corners, and slipped into a side room. They dropped against the door and stayed silent as they heard steps race past. The two of them let out a breath and Dipper slid to the floor.

"We lost her."

Mabel bounced off the door and looked at where they were. Half a dozen file cabinets stood in corners and a large desk covered in important looking papers stood against the far wall. Dipper pulled himself back up and glanced around too.

In the middle of the room was a heavy looking oak table, and on it was a series of out of place papers spread in a flurry across the wood. Unlike the rest of the room that seemed to have every last document in place, the table seemed like it was left in a lucid state, half fast and barely given a second thought before breaking out of the haze and going back to other business. Mabel stepped over to it and gave the pages a look. Dipper turned his attention to other things.

He stretched out a hand for a cabinet, and then thought better of it, thinking up images of locks and alarms, and beeping lights. Instead his hand followed a trail of cold metal drawers, starring at their name tags and the names and numbers printed in perfect calligraphy on each card.

Mabel picked up few papers off the table and read bank statements. It was mostly boring. Till she saw how huge the numbers were in the money withdrawn slots. "Whoa," she murmured. She imagined having that much money for her and Dipper, and their grandma, and ... - but if she had THAT much money? She could get all sorts of things. Yarn. A grappling hook. A gIANT HUMAN SIZED HAMPSTER BALL!

Instead the money was coming from someone named Steve Pinington to someone else name H.A. into an account called 'DREAM.' Mabel suddenly thought of all the candy she could buy with that much money and her mouth started to water. SHE wanted a dream account! She let out a sigh. Dipper glanced over at her, glancing his sister up and down, then turned back to the cabinets.

"Mabel, what do you think Stan could do if he had these things?"

Mabel pushed the papers away from her. "Buy better lightbulbs."

"No - I meant ... ," Dipper looked to a cabinet under 'NW financial' and twitched his fingers above the handle. "I just meant ... ,"

***

Back in the red Diablo, the Pines family drove away from the Northwest mansion, the driver in a more than sour mood. Mabel played with the hem of her sweater.

"Grunkle Stan? Did you ... get what you wanted?"

There was a long pause and Dipper could see Stan's shoulders bunched in an angry knot, his hands gripping the wheel and his face bitter.

"No." His response was short and full of resentment.

Dipper and Mabel shared a look. Mabel began pulling papers from out of her sleeves.

"Grunkle Stan? Do you think papers can be valuable?"

"What?" Stan cast a glanced to the back seat. He straightened as he tried to figure out what they were holding. "What are those?"

Dipper pulled papers out of his vest.

"You said - 'anything small and valuable' ." He gathered everything they had taken and handed it to Stan.

Up in the front Stan looked between the documents they had stolen, his expression lessening from irritated to intrigued.

Mabel shrieked, "Grunkle Stan! The road! Watch the road!"

They swerved, Stan's eyes flicking up before he looked down again, hardly fazed. He shuffled between the papers, a smile growing on his face. Tossing them into the passenger seat, he looked over his shoulder at the twins, smiling wide.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you two."

Mabel dared to give a hopeful grin.

"Are they valuable?"

Stan gave a short laugh and turned back to the road.

"Plenty. They're chalk full of some of Northwests most interesting bank accounts. With a little techno magic, it has all the information I need to electronically break into his vaults and secure as much money as I want."

Mabel's face clouded.

"Uh ... is that - ?"

" - legal?" Dipper finished.

"Ha!" Stan grinned. "Not even a little." He tapped the wheel with a finger. "But hey. What was that about ice cream? I think this deserves a little reward. What do you say?"

Mabel grinned wide.

"That sounds great!"

Dipper let himself smile.

"Okay. Sounds good."

"Alright." Stan scanned the road. "Now if I can just remember where - oh wait." He swerved the wheel in a hard left and twins slid towards the far right of the car. "It's this way. Probably."

They ran over a bump and Dipper bounced in his seat along side his sister. He looked at Stan. His great uncle, tapping on the wheel again while his six fingers guided the car. But he smiled. His Grunkle Stan was an interesting man, and Dipper was starting to think he liked him.

"But nothing too expensive, alright?" Stan glanced back at them. "I'm still not made of money."

Dipper smile grew.

"Sure thing Grunkle Stan."

***

Back Then:

"All set?"

Fiddleford adjusted the strap on his bag. "Think so. Let's go."

"Alright, lemme just," Stanley reached into his pants pocket. He felt around but came up empty. He searched around, feeling the other, then his jacket. "Um ... ," he looked over at Fiddleford and waved him away. "Go ahead and wait in the car. I gotta find the keys."

Fidds shrugged, "Sure thing." He made his way down the hall.

Stan could hear the door shut behind as he looked around the small forayer and the few decorative tables that adorned it for his keys. The door to the sitting room opened and a man came walking out. He caught sight of Stanley and his eyes lit up.

"Ah, you must be Stanford. I've heard so much about you and your project you've been working on."

Stanley stopped, and took a moment to see how far he could ride out acting as Ford. Then he remembered Fidds and decided to cut that game short.

"Sorry. Wrong twin. Just Stanley."

The man's face visibly slipped. Then he gave another small smile, ridding himself of disappointment.

"No matter. An opportunity is an opportunity. I mean - brother of a genius. You can't be too far behind for yourself, am I right?"

Stanley paused and looked at the man confused.

"Not ... really? I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Ah! Where are my manners." He reached into his suit-pocket and pulled out a business card. "That's me. And might I say," he hand over the card and Stanley took it to see a number and address, "you look like a particularly resourceful young man. If you ever need a reference. Connections. A little walking around money. And a member of the Pines family is a member I want on my side after all."

Something clicked in Stanley's head.

"Oh, you're that new business partner my pops found, right?"

The man grinned.

"That's me."

"You're with the Northwests. Hey, how'd you do that? Get them to finally work with us?"

"Oh, I'm just - ," the man waved a thoughtless hand, "persuasive. It's my business after all."

"Yeah." Stanley let himself think about that. "Yeah, I like that."

Ford came stepping down the stairs. He looked from the man to his brother and headed over to the later.

"Where's Fiddleford?" Stanley faced him and slipped the business card into his pocket. A little extra walking around money didn't sound half bad. Even if it was with the Northwests. But Filbrick had strung up a working relationship with them, so it couldn't be too bad. "I'm taking him home."

Ford half frowned and gave him a strange look. "And he's ... letting you?"

Stanley nodded. "I know. Surprised me too. I think he's warming up to me."

"I'm shocked." Ford put his hands in his pockets. "Really, truly. Shocked."

"And you know the weirder part? I think I'm warming up to him. He isn't a half bad nerd, you know?"

Ford rolled his eyes. "What a revelation."

"Ah, excuse me." The business man broke in and approached Ford. "You must be Stanford Pines. Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise. Who are you?"

"I'm the man that'd like to be the first financial benefactor behind the big winning idea."

Stanley stood behind them and looked to his brother mouthing 'keys?' Stanford looked to Lee, then dug into his pocket and pulled them out. He tossed them over, then turned back to the business man.

"Well, that sounds like a great idea but ... here let me just - I'd have to talk with my father."

Stanley paused an extra second down the hall, wondering if the man was bothering Ford too much, but besides the natural caution Stanford looked pretty pleased with the interest in his work. He left the house and hopped into the car.

"So Fidds. Where to?"

Fiddleford eyed him as he started the car.

"So where'd you leave 'em?"

"Okay - ," Stanley gave him a scathing look. "For your information - Ford had them."

Fiddleford's eyes widened.

"Ah. Oops, sorry about that. I should've remembered that we just borrowed them for more supplies."

Stanley shook his head and pulled onto the rode.

"You nerds are all the same. Absent minded and clueless."

"Well I'd wager that's just Ford. Have you seen that man trying to shop?"

Stanley's mouth twisted into a huge grin.

"Haha! Yes! Finally, someone else gets it!"

***

Here Now:

They pulled up into the parking lot of a bank. Outside were several police cars, officials walking in and out of the building while most other customers coming in for a morning appointment were told to come back tomorrow. Stan drove by with narrowed eyes, and after a moment of thought pulled around to the back of the building. All three of them got out of the car and walked in, Dipper and Mable finishing of the last of their waffle cones. Inside the bank was a tall building of marble. Official desks separated the back of the building from the waiting area and people with blue suits and badges were talking with staff members that had come in for the morning work day.

Stan's eyes searched out one person, and after finding him he strode across the white tiled floor while the twins trailed behind.

"Tad Strange."

A thin man in a simple white suit turned to greet them, his black hair combed over with slick gel. Catching sight of Stan Pines his face neither broke into a smile nor frowned. He gave the man a simple once over before resting an unaffected stare forward, resting his hand in his pockets.

"Stan Pines," he echoed.

"What is all this?" Stan gestured around.

Tad raised a brow. Waiting a small, searching moment, he looked around as well.

"It appears I've been robbed." He shrugged with a smile. "Imagine that."

Stan wasn't happy. "By who?" His frown was creasing the wrinkles in his forehead. He didn't appreciate the new development.

"Well a few minutes ago I was starting to believe ... by you."

"Me?"

"Who else?"

"Why would I rob you?"

"Don't play dumb Mr. Pines. We both know you're far from it. And if the rumors are to be believed, your other banking accounts have recently ran dry. Ten years I've ran my business under your protection, and as of yet no one's been bold enough to test that. It appears we've come to a crossroads."

Mabel glanced up at the banker, and with his expression she could imagine him swirling a cane of some kind, or maybe an umbrella if he had one.

"You've no proof." Stan stood standoffish in his defensive posture as he tried to think his way out of the situation.

Tad shook his head. "Quite the opposite. There's plenty of proof." He gestured to the vault behind the desk counters. "An over abundance of it in fact. The biggest of course being - you're valuables are the only things not missing."

Stan's mouth went slack in his surprise before his jaw hardened as he clenched his teeth. Tad looked at him, waiting for something more, his gaze still searching. Stan's fingers twitched towards his pocket, debating on making a call or if that would only confirm his guilt. Finally Tad relented.

"Look. Just tell me honestly. Was this you?"

Stan glanced up to give him a glare. "As if you'd believe a word I say."

"I'd like to think so."

Stan scoffed, crossing his arm and turning to look around the room again. Tad let his eyes lower to the twins. He glanced between the two then gestured to Stan. "A stubborn man, this one." His eyes dragged themselves back up to deliver a seething scowl. "With a pride and ego large enough to crush himself beneath it. Stan Pines give it to me straight - did you rob me?"

Stan flung his hands out in exasperation. "Of course not! Why would I rob you Tad? I've no reason good enough to ruin my only safe back-up funds."

"Well then - see? Was that so hard?" Tad gave his head a resolute nod "I think you're exactly right. And even on your worst hack-job - Stan Pines wouldn't be fool enough to leave behind his own incriminating money." Tad stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. "So here's what I think we'll do." He began leading Stan toward the back with the vault. "Come take a look around, see what he police have found so far - ,"

Stan gave an involuntary snort. Tad smirked. "They do leg work. Good leg work Stan." He opened the wooden divider that led behind the desks. "See what you can. Maybe you can catch a lead on who did this. And in the mean time I'll set you up with your money to help you through this little rough patch you've hit."

"Actually." Stan glanced behind himself at the kids trailing along. "I've just gotten a few new accounts I need to transfer some cash out of. If I could set up something for that - ,"

Tad held up a hand. "I'm trying to help you Stan. Don't break our agreement now. Honest money only."

Stan frowned but gave a reluctant roll of his eyes. "Fine. Whatever you like Strange."

"Don't mind me so much Stan. Here. Maybe you can look into one of your other business ventures. That loan you gave to the Valentino's? They're doing ... oddly well - from what I've heard. Perhaps you can strike something up with them?"

Tad opened the door to his office and held it open for Stan to step inside. Mabel grabbed Dipper's wrist and stopped him from following after.

"Let's look around." She shared a glance with Dipper and they slipped away.

Moving between adults, they stood side by side and gave the bank a great sweeping once over. Dipper scrunched his nose with a frown. "Where do we start? What are we even looking for?"

"Let's split up." Mabel moved to see the vault. "You'll look over there." She pointed towards the desks with all the computers. They were being dusted for finger prints by a cop, moving along the line with her white dust and a camera. "And I'll look somewhere else." Dipper and Mabel split.

Looking at the computer's all Dipper saw were a bunch of blank screens. They didn't looked broken or tampered with. No wires split out of them. No secret amount of keys missing or even a programing code blinking open. On the few computers that were turned on, the banks accounting system was online, a list of accounts with dollar amounts listing names.

Dipper looked all around the chairs, looking at height, at the type of chair, at the different pictures and potted plants at desks - searching for any clue or pattern. There wasn't much.

He got confronted by a cop and had to spend a minute nervously explaining what he was doing at the scene of a crime. Afterwards he let himself slump into one of the desk chairs, not caring that he could be contaminating evidence. As far as he was concerned, there wasn't anything there. Or at the very least, the police had gathered anything notable long before the Pines had arrived.

He glanced up at the screen he was sitting in front of. The system was interesting. He'd never seen a bank computer before. He wondered if just by clicking a few buttons he could transfer people's money without their permission. Besides how incredible illegal that probably was, the idea was fun. Dipper sat up straighter, looking at a list of names corresponding to different accounts. He wondered where those people were now, or if they even knew or cared that the bank they kept their money in had just been robbed.

There was a Wedding fund under the name Rosanna and Reginald. A Family account for someone name Hank. An insurance plan for Mikey R. A College trust for Jimmy.

Dipper's eyes stopped at the strangest entry of them all:

Type: Hell's Ascension - Name: Dream

Dipper snorted. A cultist. Someone had opened a cultist account. He swiveled in his chair with a smile. That was New Jersey wasn't it? He looked around for Mabel, wanting to show her. She was leaning over a table, bouncing on her toes as her eyes roamed what sat on top. He got off and walked over.

"What'd you find?"

Mabel glanced up.

"This is all the evidence they've collected so far. Look they've got DNA." She pointed to a long piece of auburn colored hair resting in an evidence bag.

Dipper nodded.

"I think in a week maybe they'll send that to the lab and if someone's in the system - they'll know who did it." He looked at the other evidence.

There was a stray hundred dollar bill, a green and white striped latex glove, and few pieces of broken wood - probably from a bashed in door.

"Those are cute." Mabel gesture to the gloves. "You don't see those in doctor shows. They always have the blue ones. These ones are green. And have those white stripes."

"Come look over here. I found something really funny on one of the computers."

"Dipper, do you think I could find one of those online?"

"What - ?" Dipper looked back at the gloves then rolled his eyes. "What would you even use it for?"

Mabel gave an exaggerated shrug. "I dunno. Does it matter?"

"No, just - just come look what I found." He dragged her over to the computer.

Mabel's eyes scanned the screen and Dipper waited for his sister's reaction. A smile grew on her lips and she snorted. Dipper grinned with her.

"Right?"

"People are crazy." Mabel grinned with her brother and shook her head. She looked at him and a thought popped into her head. "Love you bro-bro." She slugged him.

"Ow! Ow, ow," Dipper winced and rubbed his arm. He gave her a weary smile. "Yeah me too Mabel." He gave her a much less hard slug himself. "Love you."

"Kids!" Stan's voice echoed around the room making Mabel and Dipper look up.

They ran off to meet him, suddenly wondering if he'd leave them there if they didn't hurry. Stan watched them come up, then turned to leave without any other acknowledgement. They strode past all the police, heading for the door.

Stan stopped. Dipper and Mabel almost knocked into him from behind. They watched their Great Uncle turn his head to look out near the front entrance. The twins looked too.

Between all the cops coming in and out was a woman with a note-pad. She looked like a reporter. Stan narrowed his eyes a moment, an instinct of suspicious ringing out. She was looking their way, and not just at Stan, but at Dipper and Mabel too - completely ignoring the cops and bank staff all around the room.

Stan turned and kept walking, putting a hand in front of him and opening the side exit. Dipper glanced at the woman, wondering what the trouble was, until he also wondered where the other reporters were. A quick glance around the room proved she was the earliest on the scene.

Dipper turned as well, and he and Mabel followed Stan back out into the parking lot, but he suddenly wondered if it was at all possible that they were being followed.

Chapter Text

Back Then:

Stanley walked in and dropped off his coat at the door. He felt like he was floating on air. And after a perfect night. With the perfect girl. He just felt like drifting onto his bed and dreaming sweet nothings about Carla. He made his way into the foyer and looked around. His parents were out. He wondered if the two egghead scientists were hunkered away upstairs. He wondered if he could spare just a little more energy for an evening's round of jokes and pranks. He smiled at a forming idea - pure evil in it's execution. All he needed was a can of spray paint and -

Something crashed above him. The foundations of the house shook and Stanley struggled to keep his footing. Their were series of small booms and they echoed along the walls. Stanley looked up, thoughts turning worried. The shaking subsided and he half kneeled on the floor, unsure of what to do.

Smoke rolled down the steps, and a figure came following as it tumbled it's way down. Stanley jumped up to stop him, reaching out to help. Fiddleford put a hand up and coughed, trying to shove Lee aside.

"Get out of my way." His voice was scratchy and haggard.

"Why?" Stanley looked up the stairs, searching for his brother. He looked to Fiddleford's face, looking at the heavy soot and his mussed up hair. "Fiddleford what happened?"

Fiddleford shoved past, his face twisting in an angry scowl.

"Your brother isn't making some contribution to society - he's messing with things he doesn't understand. He's out of his mind if he thinks I'm going to keep helpin' him."

"Fidds wait."Stanley turned to catch his arm and swung him around face to face. "I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding. You just don't get what he's trying to do - ,"

"And you do?!" He jerked his arm back. "You're nothing but a hulk of meat pretending to be human Stanley. So don't you tell me what I do and don't understand, you ape!"

"Don't talk to my brother like that."

Stanley whirled to see Ford covered in ash and a few hairs on his head singed, but mostly fine as he walked down the stairs. Fidds backed away.

"You stay away from me. I want nothing to do with this anymore. You're out of your mind Stanford. You're insane!"

"Hey." Stanley jammed a finger at Fiddleford's chest. "My brother's a genius."

"Yeah?" Fiddleford glared between the twins."Well that genius just lost his assistant." He turned around and stormed out of the house.

The two brother's stared after him. Stanley looked to Ford.

"What ... what happened?"

Stanford looked back at his twin but didn't say a word. His gaze rested on where Fiddleford had left and he lifted his chin in defiance. Smoke continued to roll across the floor, but Stanley could only think about his friend walking out.

***

Here Now:

They stopped back at the house, the sun high over the city sky, and Stan grumbled something about making up some bread. They met Wendy, the 'secretary', with her boots kicked up at the small desk positioned off to the side of the open foyer. Dipper's eyes blinked a few times quick before averting their gaze, pulling down the tip of his hat with a hand. It didn't matter though because her back was turned as they all walked straight ahead down a stubby hall to the kitchen. A table sat to the left side against a wall and they were all seated.

Wendy gave the twins a small two finger salute before kicking her feet back up, and Soos walked in. Stan grumbled something about groceries, but had already pulled out a loaf of bread and was smearing condiments with a butter knife. Wendy tossed her hair back and glanced his way.

"Pops called. Ramirez too. Everyone's wondering about their money old man."

"Who are you calling old?" Stan twisted the lid of a jam jar off with a pop. "Tell them they can forget it. There aren't any problems here."

Soos glanced up. "There isn't?"

Stan glanced over and gestured for them to calm down, still holding the butter knife. "I've got it all under control. I've always got it. They're all just looking for an excuse to whine."

Mabel grabbed the salt shakers and started playing with them. "Did you hear about the bank robbery yet?" She looked up at Wendy, waiting for her reaction.

"Robbery?" Wendy looked to Stan. "Who got hit? And who did it? Not - ," her eyes strayed to the twins a moment before she changed her mind and looked back, " - not us right? Nobody told me anything about any bank heist."

Dipper shook his head. "No. Someone else. We don't know who."

"But they made it look like Stan did it." Mabel gestured with the salt for emphasis.

"Dudes, that's not going to cause any problems, right?" Soos glanced around at everyone.

"Eh." Stan shrugged.

Wendy shook her head. "The police are getting too much work lately. First the Gleeful arrest, now this?"

"Who?" Mabel asked.

"Pompous powdered freak - too smart for his own good." Stan slapped two pieces of bread together. He paused, resting the knife of the counter. Then he laugh. "And he got tried as an adult for it too." He glanced at them with a grin.

Dipper shared a glance with Mabel, both confused. "Who's 'Gleeful?' "

"Bud Gleeful's kid." Soos pointed between the twins. "He isn't much younger than you two. Gideon. Gideon Gleeful."

"They work the car business. Chop shops." Wendy shrugged.

"Supposed to." Stan's voice turned into no more than a bitter grumble. "Till the kid convinced Bud to steal from the Ramirez's casino business by opening a place of his own."

Wendy laughed. "And you had such a good thing going didn't you?"

Soos shifted, uncomfortable. "No, that casino thing was kinda a low blow. Reggie's been pretty mad about it all summer."

Stan thumped a fist on the counter. "We had a deal. And if Bud thinks he can make up for that revenue, he's got another thing coming. That casino can't bring in the same kind of turn over that those cars I supplied him could. Not any day of the week."

"Uh-huh." Wendy rolled her eyes. She dropped her feet and leaned in to the twins. "He's just sour they outsmarted him."

"They did not."

Wendy scoffed. "Like it's that hard anyway. Anyone can outsmart you if they took the time."

"You're looking for a demotion aren't you?"

Wendy gave him a good hard, defiant glare. "I dare you."

Stan glared right back. There was a moment when they stared each other down, then Stan turned back to the counter and grabbed everyone's food.

"It would save me a pretty penny or two," he mumbled under his breath. He came over and dropped their sandwiches in front of them before sitting down himself.

Mabel launched a bite into her bread and asked a question between chews.

"What'd he get arrested for? Gideon I mean." She took another chomp.

"Oh, that's the weird thing." Soos twirled his fingers in some spooky dance. "Nobody knows."

Stan itched his nose. "Probably something stupid, I don't know." He shrugged and took a bite of his food.

Wendy pulled her plate closer.

"Can't be that stupid if it took an undercover cop to catch him in the act."

"Undercover?" Dipper stare up at his Great Uncle. "Really? Like with a fake name and everything?"

Stan shrugged. 

Wendy nodded. "Yeah. Moose - no ... Deuce."

"Hey, isn't he a Ramirez?" Stan looked over at Soos. "Isn't he related to you?"

Soos frowned.

"Distantly. Very distantly. Like a third cousin, or three times removed or something." He shrugged. "That's what Abuelita said anyways."

"That family of yours," Stan shook his head. "They all pull off that 'don't mind me, not suspicious at all' gig spot on. Every time."

"Hey." Wendy glared at Stan. "What's that suposed to mean?"

"You don't see anyone looking twice at Reggie walking between the streets. No one thinks - hey that guy is definitely running a profitable business and we probably shouldn't let him too close to our customers and clubs all across the ocean line board walks."

"That's just Reggie," Soos tried to defend.

"Then there's your Abuelita."

Soos frowned. "What ... what about her?"

Wendy waved them both off.

"Soos, just ignore him."

Stan put his sandwich down.

"I'm just saying. That - that Deuce? He's probably sitting high and dry right now from whatever police benefits he's got from being a lier. A snitch."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Here we go."

"That's what snitches get isn't it?" Stan leaned back in his chair. "Years docked off prison sentences. Maybe a little extra cash in your pocket. All for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong." He looked at the kids. "You understand that right? Its called loyalty. Or at the very least keeping your mouth shut."

"Alright enough." Wendy pushed Stan's plate closer to him. "Just eat, will you?" Stan opened his mouth to speak - "Nuh-uh." She lifted her hands, cutting him off. "I don't wanna hear it right now. Bring it up later when I'm not around. I don't wanna have to listen to your whole spiel again, just because you've got someone new to yak it off to." She gave him a side-eyed glare and picked up her sandwich. After a moment she gave it a chomp.

Stan rolled his eyes. They ate in silence. Mabel started sprinkling a little salt on some fallen bread seeds and Dipper had to yank it out of her hand. She stuck her tongue at him before taking a rueful bite of sandwich.

Stan's eyes stared at the wooden table, his face blank, but maybe thoughtful. He stopped eating, swallowing his last bite. "Hey Soos. When was the last time Reggie 's seen the inspector?"

Soos looked up. He glanced between everyone then looked into space with a thoughtful frown. "Uh ... I don't remember."

Stan raised a brow. "No?"

Soos glanced at him then did a double take.

"Uh, but I can ask. I'm sure it was just last month or something Mr. Pines."

Stan shook his head. "Sure. You do that Soos."

Wendy eyed him, but they all were quiet again as they ate. Soos put his food down and pushed the plate away from himself, but no one commented on him not finishing it. Stan glanced over at him.

"Hey Soos."

Soos dragged his gaze over to Stan.

"Yes Mr. Pines?'

"What happened to that speeding ticket? The one from last week?"

"Ah ... they - they changed their mind. Wavered it. Let me off with a warning. They said it was too much paper work or something."

"Oh my gosh!" Wendy threw her sandwich onto her plate. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What?" Soos looked at her confused.

"Not you Soos." She glared at Stan. "You. What are you doing?"

Stan glared back. "What? A man can't ask about his business?"

She stared him down, anger building. "You think he's a snitch? Soos?"

Stan didn't answer. Just glared. He slowly took another bite of his food. 

Soos voice spoke up. "And what if you thought I was?" Stan glanced his way, but Soos was looking at his hands. "Would you ... fire me?"

Stan's mouth flew open to speak, before closing his mouth glaring at the table as he took his time to think that through. Soos' frown deepened, but became something set firm. He looked up at Stan, his eyes determined, if uncertain.

"Well," his voice wavered a bit. He swallowed. "If it really worries you so much then ... then you don't have to worry about it. Cause ... - because I quit." Soos stood out of his chair then hurriedly walked out.

Wendy's mouth dropped open. The three Pines stared after him with wide shocked eyes. Wendy whirled on Stan.

"Just look what you've done this time!" She got up and raced after Soos. "Soos! Soos, wait!"

The twin's had no where else to look but their Great Uncle. Stan stood stiff, his eyes locked on a point somewhere amidst the painted stripes on his plate. He picked up the rest of his half eaten sandwich and kept eating, determined to now show any other sign of reaction.

After the sounds of Wendy and Soos vanished from earshot, Dipper and Mabel shared a look before silently finishing their food as well. When Stan finished he got up and disappeared into the other side of the house, leaving the twins behind.

***

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel stopped them just before they went to enter the funeral home.

Stan stopped and Mabel spoke to his back. "Did Soos really quit?"

Dipper looked at her, upset that she asked, but he wanted to know too.

"Yes." Stan didn't move as he spoke. His voice wasn't harsh or gruff. It was aloof. He turned, just a little, to glance at them from the corner of his eye. "I must admit I was probably being a fool." He turned and reached for the door. "But it was a long time in the making. Soos makes his own choices." He walked inside.

The door shut behind him and his decision to not hold it open for the twins made it clear that that was the end of it. They walked in to hear him speaking with the woman at the front desk. Standing off to the side they listened as he began a long conversation of business and entrepreneurial endeavors.

This time it was Dipper that tapped his sister, gesturing off to a hall where they could look around. Glancing towards their Great Uncle, they snuck away. Stan's gaze flickered at the sign of movement, and he caught the edge of their heels as they disappeared. He paused a moment, before pulling his head back on the secretary, unfazed by their exit.

Dipper and Mabel trailed down a beige painted hall, decorated with the odd green potted plant at every door. At the end was the exit to the morgue, a convenient sign pointing with an arrow marked 'morgue' hanging next to it. They pushed it open, not knowing what to expect, and saw a man in a white lab coat hunched over a body.

Mabel shrieked.

The man glanced up with wide eyes, then spotted the twins. He relaxed, his face melting into a relieved smile as he straightened.

"Ah, guests." He pushed the body laying on a metal slate into the wall and shut the door behind it. "How can I help you?" He stepped over, taking off his white coat. "You aren't supposed to be in here."

His smile was soft, and so was the rest of him despite being rather tall and maybe skinny if you looked at just the right angle. Dipper had a hand on Mabel's wrist, ready to run if they were in trouble. "We were just looking around. We didn't mean - ,"

"Oh, a tour!" The man clapped his hands together with a grin. "Would you two like that? We'd just love to give you a look around if you'd like."

"Really?" Mabel's frightened frowned dropped, and she perked up.

"Oh sure." The man called out to someone in the next room over. "Janice!"

A woman stepped through a pair of swinging double doors, rubbing her hands over themselves like she'd just washed them.

"What do you need Greg dear?" She caught sight of the twins. "Oh, guests!"

Greg went over to his wife and wrapped an arm around her waist. "These two little squirts need a tour."

"Really? How lovely!" She smiled down at the two of them. "We'd love to show you around."

They moved to leave, gesturing for the twins to follow. Dipper glanced to Mabel, but she was smiling. He shrugged and trailed after them, guessing a tour was a good opportunity as any to investigate.

They walked around the building, the couple explaining things as they visited the computer lab, the embalming lab, the restorative art lab, the gross anatomy lab, - and the lecture hall. 

"We just love it here, don't we honey?" Greg grinned at his wife.

Janice nodded. "This funeral home has been in my husband's family for generations. Why, they've seen to the bodies of New Jersey folks for almost a century and a half."

Dipper looked up at a sudden thought. "Do you know if any Pines family have been through here?"

Janice and Greg glanced at each other in silent thought before shrugging with a smile. "I don't see why not."

Janice gestured to a door. "We'd have to look downstairs in the records room. We have everything down there - all back to the day we opened."

They walked towards the door and Greg turned the handle to open it. "All the files have been transfered to a computer obviously, but - ," he glanced at them with a conspiratorial look, " - between you and me, there's nothing quite like digging through old certificates." He laughed and his wife chuckled right along with him.

They went downstairs. Beneath the building it was colder, and dark. Lights hung overhead and the entire basement was filled with shelve after shelve of filing cabinets. Mabel and Dipper took one glance before separating to search around. They worked their way through the alphabet, until Mabel called for Dipper across the room.

He ran over and together they flipped through files till - printed on a dusty old vanilla envelope, turned more orange than yellow, was PINES.

"Look Dipper, it's our family." Mabel pulled the file out.

"Well, look at what it says inside." Dipper grabbed a few certificates, letting Mabel take the rest.

"These are all from the 1920s. Look, this must be our great-great-great grandma!"

Dipper glanced at it. "Grandpa." He pointed to an M on the file.

"Oh." Mabel blinked before putting them aside and looking at the papers Dipper had. "Who'd you find?"

Dipper flipped through his. "The most recent look like their from the 60s. Wait look!" Dipper pointed at one. "This one says Sherman Pines! It's grandpa Shermy!"

Mabel pulled it out of her hands and looked at it. She compared the dates. "He was young." She shook her head. "I mean - grandma always said he was young, but ... ,"

"Mabel," Dipper was looking at three other certificates. "These all have the same year."

Mabel looked over his shoulder again.

"Not just year - the same day ... The fire." Mabel dropped her arms and was quiet.

Dipper looked at her, then slowly pulled Sherman's certificate from her hand. He looked at the four dates comparing them. "Our great-grandpa Filbrick Pines. His wife. Grandpa Shermy - ," Dipper stopped, his eyes widening. In a whisper he called his sister's name. "Mabel." His voice trembled.

"What?" Mabel glanced at him.

"Look at this. Look at this one." Dipper shoved a certificate into her hands.

Mabel straightened it and looked down. She froze too.

"Stan Pines," she breathed. She pulled at Dipper's arm, yanking him closer. "This - this is Grunkle Stan. This is his certificate. His death certificate - Dipper!"

"What ... ," Dipper stared at it, burning a hole with his eyes. "But if Stan Pines is dead. Then who is that upstairs?"

He and Mabel shared a look. Neither of them knew.

***

Dipper patted his vest where the death certificate of his very much still alive Great Uncle was stashed. They'd replaced the rest then finished their tour.

"I hope you enjoyed yourselves dearies." Janice grabbed a small box off a casket.

The room was full of them, showing off different types, all of the closed lids a different wood that someone might want to buy for their dead loved one. Greg stepped over and pulled a pair of plastic gloves out of the box his wife was holding.

"I know we did. It's been a pleasure showing you around. Just a pleasure."

"Oh you," Mabel made a blushing gesture and grinned. "Thank you for showing us."

Dipper stooped and picked something up. Janice pulled a pair of gloves out of her box and replaced it on the casket. She glanced at what Dipper found.

"Oh lucky you!" Dipper glanced her way only to see a friendly wink. "Look what you found." She nodded at the hundred dollar bill he'd picked up off the floor. He held it out, offering to give it back, but she waved him off. "No, you keep it."

Dipper seemed hesitant, then put it in his pants pocket with a smile.

"Finders keepers as we always say." Greg chuckled and his wife joined in.

They slipped on their latex gloves, slapping the ends as they slid into place. "Off to the embalming lab. Messy business." Greg grinned, wiggling his fingers, giving Mabel a good look.

"Oh, I love those," Mabel gushed. "Where did you get them?" She pointed at their green and white striped design.

"These?" Janice glanced at them. She seemed to think a minute before shrugging with a smile. "I don't really remember. I think there's a special place. Here in the city. I could show you some time if you come again."

"That sounds great!"

"Come on Mabel." Dipper walked past her, ready to leave. "We don't want Grunkle Stan coming to look for us." He gestured for her to hurry it up.

"Too late."

Both twins whirled at the sound of their Great Uncle's voice. "G-g-grunkle Stan!" they exclaimed in unison.

He leveled his gaze at them before turning to leave. "Come on you two."

Dipper and Mabel shared a look before heading out. The Valentinos stepped after them. "Oh we'll show you to the door." Janice stood in stride with Mabel. "It's the least we could do for all the wonderful company." She grinned down at Mabel, and Mabel grinned back.

They walked past all the caskets, and then Dipper paused. Sticking out of a lid was another hundred dollar bill. He reached out and pulled, looking down at it confused. Greg glanced over his shoulder.

"Well wouldn't you know it. This boy's a genuine rabbits foot isn't he?" He grinned over at Dipper.

Realization dawned on him and Dipper took a great step back. "G-g-grunkle Stan?" he called, eyes wide.

All the way near the door, Stan stopped, his hand just short of the knob as he glanced Dipper's way. "Yes?"

Dipper caught his eyes and in that moment he could think of only one way to explain. He went over and flew open the lid of the nearest casket - revealing the presence of dozens of stacks of hundred dollar bills hidden within.

The entire room went quiet.

Stan's narrowed eyes strayed to the Valentinos. Greg smiled back. "Well isn't this an unexpected development?"

Stan stepped forward and in one swift movement Greg and Janice stepped back, pulling out a a single gun each. Stan's arm was a blur as he whipped out a gun of his own. They faced each other, a barrel aimed at each other's faces.

"Now you just hold it right there Mr. Pines." Greg turned his gun on Dipper. "We wouldn't want any accidents would we?"

Dipper's spine stiffened as a chill rolled through him. Mabel's eyes widened and she looked over at her brother, scared.

"Leave them alone." Stan's voice was steal. His arm shifted to Greg, then back at Janice who was still aiming at him.

"Then why dontcha put the gun down Mr. Pines." Janice was still grinning a sweet smile, her voice honey. "Maybe we can go downstairs and work something out. Just the three of us while the children stay up here."

"I think that's a wonderful idea Janice." Greg didn't take his eyes off Stan. "Why don't you put your gun down Mr. Pines. Just like the Misses said."

Stan looked between them, his eyes brimming with anger. But then they strayed between Dipper and Mabel. Staring back at the Valentinos he slowly lowered his arm, then dropped the gun on the floor all together.

"Grunkle Stan don't - ,"

All eyes went on Dipper, the Valentinos' a warning gaze, but Stan's was downright vengeful. Dipper shut his mouth, staring at his Great Uncle with a mash of emotions. The Valentinos stepped aside, gesturing for Stan to follow, and he did. They walked past the twins, heading for the door leading to downstairs. Janice's gun was still trained on him when Greg lowered his to open the entrance. Dipper and Mabel inched closer till they could hold each other.

Stan glanced over his shoulder at them.

In what felt like one single solid, fluid movement, Stan disarmed the Valentinos, sending both to the floor. 

Both went down, knocking against the sides of caskets and sliding to the ground. They weren't passed out, but instead were dazed as they held their heads with a loud groan, neither feeling capable of getting up anytime soon.

Stan grabbed both guns. He slipped out the mags onto the ground then cocked each barrel and let the spare bullet drop. Stepping away from the stunned couple, he tossed each firearm in a nearby trash. Flipping out his phone he went to dial a number, letting it ring as the twins stared in shock.

Someone answered.

"I need you here," Stan spoke into the reciever. "I have a clean up job - ," He stopped short at the sound of a tone. He stared at it with a surprised glare before trying again. Someone answered and he spoke into the reciever. "I said - ," whoever was on the other line hung up again. Stan looked more annoyed at that then anything else from the last few minutes. He called someone else and they seemed to answer. "I have a clean up job." There was a response on the other line. "Well you have ten. Get over here." He hung up and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

He glanced at the twins.

They stared back, speechless.

***

The Funeral Home's front entrance was filled with grizzled muscle men and bikers. They moved to the back, shaking out large black trash bags as they went. A large, red headed man wearing flannel - Manly Dan - talked with Stan.

"What are we going to do with it all?" His voice was low, almost booming.

"Send it back to Tad's bank. Discretely please."

Dan raised a thick brow.

"We aren't keeping it?"

"Don't be ridiculous. It's not a good investment. Those bills are too hot to be caught on any of us."

Dan narrowed his eyes, but walked away and helped the rest of the bikers. Stan turned to where the Valentinos were sitting. In front of them were two burley men with guns out in the wide open. As Stan walked up, the couple glanced his way.

"Mr. Pines!" Janice's cheerful tone was undermined by a hint of desperation. "We're terribly sorry for all this misunderstanding. There doesn't have to be any problem, does there?"

"What exactly," Stan came to a stop in front of them, "do you expect after pulling a stunt like this?"

Greg shook his head and gave his wife's hand a pat before interlacing his fingers in hers, all the while his face still keeping on their smile.

"We didn't mean anything by it Pines. You know how things are."

"And how, Valentino, do you explain stealing everything except my money. What did you mean by that."

Janice threw her hands up in the air. "Oh, it was nothing! An - an afterthought. This was all just some wild fantasy - a blip in Greg's midlife crisis. And - and a wife has to support her husband. Can't you sympathize Mr. Pines?"

Stan crossed his arms, expression unamused. Compared to the other men walking around, Stan Pines was nothing special. But standing there in front of the Valentinos, he looked the picture of intimidation as he stared them down, holding, possibly their very lives in contempt. Greg rubbed a nervous hand down his face. He never thought out that perhaps his actions would end up crossing Stan Pines.

"Sorry dear." He looked to his wife and gave her a half smile. "Guess this is where dreams get you, hehe."

Janice's smile fell and she glared at her husband with the first angry frown all day.

"You and your stupid night terrors!"

"Honey - ,"

"As if you were some visionary. Coming to you in some dream - ,"

"Excuse me?"

Janice stopped. Her eyes trailed to Stan, mouth open from mid sentence. She snapped her jaw shut and went silent, her frown deepening into a thin line.

Stan looked between them, waiting for either one to say something. He narrowed his eyes, thinking it over. In the silence he wondered if they would say more - if he should ask about more. They seemed intent on the quiet. After a long moment, he decided to forget about it at present and unfolded his arms. 

"I'll make you a proposition." They shared a glance then sat straighter, perking up. Stan laid it out. "Transfer all your recent funds to me this evening, and so long as I don't hear of a single blip of trouble out of the two of you, we won't have anymore problems."

Janice looked taken aback. "All? You don't mean - you can't possibly - not all our recent revenue?"

Greg had objections as well. "This evening?"

"We - we have bills to pay Mr. Pines. A - a son to take care of."

"Be reasonable - ,"

"I said what I meant." Stan snapped. "Either follow through, or you'll end up like Mikey R."

Janice frowned. "Mikey R?" She looked at her husband and her husband looked back. Nervously they asked, "What happened to Mikey R?"

Stan stepped back. "Let's just say he won't be swinging around any left handed axes for a while." He turned to go.

The Valentinos looked between each other, then put their hands in the other's and tried to be a comfort.

Stan walked up to Dan. "Wrap up here. I'm done."

Dan gestured to the Valentinos. "Are we gonna," he cracked a few knuckles, "you know ... ?"

Stan waved him off. "It's taken care of."

Dan glared. "Just like that? You're going to let them get away with crossing us?"

"The only one getting away with anything - are the Ramirez. I want to know why they've decided to brick-wall me."

Dan scoffed. "Well I got one guess."

"And what's that?"

Dan just gave his head an angry shake, rolling his eyes, then walked away.

Stan paused a moment, staring after him, then took out his phone and made another call. It went to voice mail. He left a simple message. "The Valentinos robbed Tad's bank. It's handled." He hung up then headed to the exit. 

Stan gestured at the twins sitting in the front entrance in waiting chairs, telling them to come. Dipper and Mabel shared a look then glanced at their Great Uncle, but they stayed where they were. Stan gestured again. The twins didn't move. Their eyes were nervous and wary. Stan realized they even looked a bit scared.

He let out heavy sigh. Stepping over he knelt besides them.

"Mabel. Dipper. We're leaving now."

Mabel spoke up.

"They were going to kill you, weren't they Grunkle Stan."

"Well - ," Stan thought around for a delicate way to put his next words. He couldn't find one and, giving up, decided to state it blunt. "Yes. Down in the basement, the sound of the shot would have been muffled, and then from there they would most likely have hidden my body with the tools already easily available right here." Another moments thought and he added with a light tone. "At that point my dead spirit would have ... most likely called out for you to run from beyond the grave"

The kids looked - not horrified per-say - but on the verge of it. Stan backtracked and tried to brighten their mood.

"It would have been a little ironic," he prodded. "To ... die in a funeral home?" He smiled a little, looking for recognition.

Neither twin smiled back.

"That's not funny," Dipper whispered.

Stan let his smile dropped, and feeling frustrated he stood.

"Anything else from you two?"

"What would have happened if you'd died?" Dipper's tone grew angry. "What about us? What would we have done? Who would find our parents?"

"I would." Stan's expression grew hard. "Stan Pines would. Even if I had to drag my own soul back out of hell - I'm going to find them." He glared down his glasses at both the twins. "You're family. You do anything for family. Understand?"

Dipper nodded. Mabel squeezed her eyes shut, then jumped up and gave Stan a hug.

"Thank you. Thank you for saving us."

Stan froze. He blinked and looked down at the little girl attached around his middle. Slowly his arms wrapped around her and his face softened. He glanced up at Dipper, then cleared his throat and tried releasing himself from Mabel's grip.

"We - we should go now. Places to be kids."

Mabel released him and the twins finally went to leave. Stan paused only a moment, staring after them with a thought. The protectiveness and anger he'd felt at the Valentino's threat. He'd only seen them - how long? And already he ...

***

Back Then:

They sat on the swings and looked at the sunset. There was nothing left to do. They was all the time in the world till next week, and they decided to spend it shootin' the breeze out by the ocean.

Stanley kicked at the sand. "Have you heard from him?"

Ford didn't take his eyes off the sun, setting against the water. "He sold off his notes." The sky was clear, the waves were calm, and Ford's gaze dropped to a boat drifting in the distance. "Gathered his things. Wrote down as much as he could remember and just ... sold them. For money."

"It's a profitable idea - ,"

"He could've given them back." Stanford glared at the ground, fists twisting around the chains of the swing. "He could've burned them for all I care. If he really felt that way. He could've had a bonfire, and laughed it up with other scientific minds. Made fun of me. Dragged my name through the dirt - ," He whipped his head up and stared at his brother, trying to make him understand. "He sold it." He leaned back in the swing and dragged a hand through his hair. His fingers twisted then slid down to rub at his neck.

Stanley thumbed at the small links of metal. "Who to?"

Stanford dropped his arm and slouched. "I dunno." He shook his head, then dropped his head back and looked up at the sky. "If - if he needed money ... - he could've asked for money. Or - or I could've just given him some if I knew. If he even said anything - told me."

"I don't really think it was about that."

Ford sighed. "Yeah." He looked away to the ground. "Me neither."

"You liked him didn't you?" Lee side-eyed Ford. "I mean - you two really hit it off. He wasn't just a partner. My nerd bro made a nerd friend - didn't he?" He tried giving a playful smile to lighten the mood.

Ford wasn't amused. "It doesn't matter." He rolled his eyes. "Is he a genius? Undoubtedly. Was our work well synced? Almost to the point of absurdity. What are my chances of finding another mind as well established as that? Slim. Very slim." He waved a hand. "But none of that matters. Just forget about it. Forget about 'Fiddleford McGucket' - I'll have my pick of the most brilliant minds in all the world after next week. Who knows how many friends and associates I'll make after the Science Convention. How many opportunities and business partners. How many - ,"

" - people will be there, boot licking and ready to take advantage of you. Not exactly the type of folks I'd think you'd want to associate with, am I right?"

"Well," Ford couldn't help himself and tossed Lee a grin. "I associate with you don't I?"

Stanley gave him a good punch across the arm, but moved back grinning. Ford rubbed the offending bruise, but his mood had lightened.

"Who knows though. And I'll probably find another benefactor after that guy pops fired. Maybe a dozen more. People lining up, begging to fund me." He glanced at Stanley. "And ... it'd make up for you having to quit that job."

Stanley's smile lessened a bit. He rubbed his nose and looked away. Stanford's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You quit didn't you?" Stanley didn't comment. He looked out towards the ocean, watching the waves. Ford's smile dropped altogether. "Stanley."

"What? It's good money."

Ford jaw clenched and he hissed out through gritted teeth, "You're working for the Northwests."

"It's not my fault Shermy couldn't be convinced, and pops dropped the deal. It was perfectly legitimate back when we were gonna make a joiner."

"You really thought Shermy was gonna marry a Northwest? While he was engaged to another girl?"

"Richest family in town? Sure. Why not?"

"Would you?"

"Hey, if your thing falls through - what's to say I still won't?"

"Lee, don't be an idiot. You can get a job anywhere."

"No. I can get a job from pops anywhere. Working under him like a kid getting loose change."

"That's how it works. It's a family business."

"Well at least when I'm off working with Northwests, I know I'm getting my own money. That I can keep. That I control. He respects Shermy. He respects you. What do you think I am? What am I supposed to do when Shermy's the new head, you're building a money machine, and everyone else expects me to scrape snitches off the walk-board after hours?"

"You're supposed to be apart of the family, and not make us look bad. You don't have to do anything. I'd think that as the champion slacker you'd take advantage of that. Why do you even need money? It's not like you've got someone to spend it on anymore."

Stanley snapped his head up and glared. Ford glared right back, chin high and aloof. After a moment Stanley growled. "Sure I need money. Gotta pay for gas to crash that hippie's truck."

Ford lowered his head and leveled his gaze. "Knock it off. You're not impressing anyone by acting like a hot headed idiot." Stanley sneered and Ford reached out and snatched his brother's arm. "I mean it Lee. Don't do anything stupid. Not with this. Not with Northwest. Think about what you're doing for once."

Stanley snatched his arm away and stood. "No promises."

Ford stood too. "Quit that job. Tomorrow." Stanley began walking away, back down the beach. Ford walked after him. "Lee I mean it."

"Shut up Ford. What do you have to worry about? You're gonna be rich soon."

Stanford paused to let out an unsatisfied grunt. He muttered under his breath, "You too knucklehead," before trailing after without another comment.

***

Here Now:

Stan stood in front of the bouncer at the club. "I'm here to see Reggie."

The man shook his head. "Well he don't wanna see you old man."

Stan glared. "First of all - I'll over look that if you allow me access inside. Second, tell him Stan Pines wants to know why he's ignoring my calls."

"He's upset you messed with his cousin."

"Wha - who? Soos?"

"What do you got against the dude anyways? What'd he ever do to you?"

"Alright, that's enough. Let me inside now, or I'll - ," He tried forcing his way past.

The bouncer pushed him aside. Stan stepped back, glasses askew, and straightened them. His eyes narrowed and he prepared to take things into his own hands. The bouncer called over his shoulder.

"I got trouble here."

Two more of his friends came to the door, staring Stan Pines down. On any other day, that might have been an inconvenience, but a cough behind him reminded him of the kids. Frustrated, his tense stance dropped. He shoved a finger in the bouncer's face.

"I'll be back."

He turned and gestured for the twins to follow. They made their way back down the sidewalk, Stan fuming. They stopped where he'd parked the car and Stan took out his keys. Mabel and Dipper shared a look. "Uh ... Grunkle Stan?"

Stan ignored them and looked around. He looked to the building he'd parked next to, then back at the street. He couldn't find the car. He stepped back then looked all around. "Where did - ," His eyes fell back to where he parked, and then he noticed the glass. He expression turned from confused to infuriated. "Gleeful." He stepped into the street and stooped down, picking up shards of window pane.

Mabel stepped into the street and picked a few pieces of her own. "What is all this?"

"I swear if he does anything else to that car." Stan stood and began charging down the sidewalk. "Come on. We're gonna have to hoof it."

"Grunkle Stan," Dipper ran to catch up. "What happened to the car?"

"It was stolen."

Mabel came at his side. "By Gleeful?"

"I don't know what's got into his head. Bud Gleeful should know better than to steal my car. He's not getting off lightly."

They crossed a street. Dipper matched his Great Uncle's pace and looked up at him. "Today really isn't your day is it?" Stan stopped. He looked down at Dipper with a blank stare. 

Then he laughed. "HA!" He looked back ahead and kept striding forward with a wide wry smile. "Not my day." He shook his head. "Ha!"

Dipper and Mabel skipped to keep up.

They crossed another street, then stopped at a bus stop. Stan consulted the schedule, then stood and waited. He looked determined, staring straight ahead. Cars drove past. A few people made their way on the crosswalk opposite.

Dipper felt his vest, touching where he kept the certificate with their Great Uncle's name. He looked at Stan, remembering how he'd saved their lives no more than a few hours ago. Dipper thought about how he was helping them find their parents. If the real Stan Pines was dead ...

Then whoever was standing next to him now was still his Grunkle. He was still trying to help.

"Hey," Dipper nudge Stan. "Can I ask you something?"

Stan tore his gaze from the street, down to his great nephew. "What is it?"

Dipper glanced at Mabel and she looked at him confused. Slowly, he reached into his vest. Mabel's eyes widened in recognition and she nodded her head in agreement. Dipper pulled out the certificate. "Great Uncle Stan - who is this?" He unfolded the paper and passed it.

Stan took it, reading. His expression hardened. "Where did you get this?"

Mabel pointed over her shoulder. "At the funeral home. Before - everything - we took a tour and looked around and we found that - ,"

"You shouldn't have done that." He folded the paper and put it into his coat. "This is going right back. You should have left it where it was." He looked angry.

"Wha - ," Dipper frowned. "That says your name on it. It says Stan Pines. It says you're supposed to be dead."

"Well obviously I'm not." Stan snapped. "Forget about it. It doesn't matter."

Mabel glared at him. "But why does it say your name?"

"I said forget about it Mabel."

Dipper was growing frustrated. "Why are you so defensive? Are you even Stan Pines?"

"Of course I am. Drop it. The both of you."

Mabel tried prying. "If you're Stan Pines, then who is that on the - ,"

"I said that's enough!" Stan glared at them and the twins went silent. Stan squeezed his eyes shut, then looked away. His angry expression became sullen.

"It's my business." His eyes looked to the edge of the street. He glanced back, then looked at each of their unhappy faces. Stan frowned. Letting out a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look." He dropped his arm. "Stan Pines is me. But - he's also ... ," he glanced at the air off to the side,  "He's also a dead twin brother. My 'dead' twin brother."

Both twins gasped. Mabel was aghast. "Twin?"

"Brother?" Dipper grew confused. "With the same name?" He raised a brow at how that sounded. Stan face turned into a long suffering expression, as if he'd just heard an unamusing joke for the thousandth time. 

Mabel looked at her Great Uncle. "How come grandma never said anything about your twin brother?"

"Because I told her not to." Stan faced the two of them, looking more serious than he ever had before. "And I'm telling you two the same thing. My business is my own and I don't appreciate others digging into it."

Mabel couldn't imagine not asking about another Stan. "But why?"

"Because."

Dipper was curious too. "But why not?"

"Because." The bus rolled up. Stan switched his glare from them to it and moved to step on board. "I'm not answering any more questions." He turned his back to them. "Drop it."

Mabel frowned and followed after him. Dipper went as well, feeling less sure of his Great Uncle Stan.

Chapter Text

Back Then: 

Stanley gripped the wheel and stared at the picture, hanging from the sun visor: hot pants wearing bell bottoms, that hippie's arm slung over her shoulder. He started the engine.

Outside the edge of town, the road was empty as he flew past. Outside his window, he saw several buildings disappear through the trees, down the hill nearer suburbia. He shifted gears and floored it, turning farther up the hill. He had half a mind to stop at the top, set the car in neutral, and shove it down the small mountain.

He passed a 45 limit sign and sped up. Without shifting gears he tried pushing the pedal lower, regardless of the engine's protests. If he was being honest, in the mood he was in, flying down the road brought that exhilaration most cars do. He twisted around curves, just grazing the line and smirked at his control. He shifted gears and went faster.

Curving along the hill, the side rail came closer and closer as he sped past. Throwing the wheel right, then back left, he nicked the guard line and swerved into the opposite lane. The feeling of being jostled forced his gaze to consider the long ways down the hill, and it sent his heart racing. He'd never tried anything like this with his Red Diablo. As he bounced against the side again, he knew why. But he kept up his foot on the pedal and wound his way across. He could afford it with this car.

Rounding another corner, he passed a sudden caution sign. Immediately after that the rode made a very swift and a very sharp left turn. He threw the wheel left, but the vehicle drifted right. 

He slammed against the guard rail and burst through just as fast. The ground went out from under him and he dropped, slamming into the hill. The car rolled once, then landed on its wheels. Trees appeared in front of him and Stanley yanked the wheel back and forth in a desperate attempt not to crash. His foot slammed on the brakes, but his momentum pulled him further down. The windshield filled up with branches smacking the glass. He bounced, a jostled mess, till he broke through.

The car slid into a parking lot, the tires skidding against concrete.

It fell forward just a few more yards, till it came up to a single lonely parked Sedan. Stanley put an arm up to cover his eyes.

He felt a rough jerk.

The car came to a stop. Slowly, Stanley looked up. He was alive. One by one, he pulled his fingers off the wheel and opened the door. Stepping out, he looked around. There wasn't anyone around. He looked to the hippie's car. It was a wreck. He looked at the one he'd run into. Besides a roughed up bumper, it looked okay. His face split into an uneasy smile. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes for a moment, grinning.

"Hey!"

He looked up. Someone was coming out of the building, looking between him and the wreck with wide eyes. Stanley turned to run.

Checking over his shoulder, he slowed a stop, surprised. Spread out on the ground in front of the car he'd hit, looked like a machine suspiciously similar to Ford's. A machine broken, with parts splattered across the floor. Panic set in, worse than anything from the crash down the hill. He looked at the building he'd landed in front of. A banner was pulled up, and across it read 'Science Convention.'

"Oh no." He stepped back, recognizing the car as one of Filbrick's. He'd hit his brother's project. Of all the cars to land against - it had to be the one transporting Stanford's machine.

"Hey! Stop! What'd you do?"

More people came spilling out of the building. Someone had their phone and was calling the police. Stanley grimaced, but decided to stop gawking. He burst into a run and sprinted away.

***

Here Now:

They came to a huge car lot. Outside were signs and Air Dancing Noodle People. Everything a dealership needed. Right night door - their parking lots even meshed together - was a casino. Stan led them inside. Poker tables and coin slots were stacked around the floor, people milling about. Without even looking back Stan gave them a warning.

"Stay close to me. Don't get lost."

He walked down the marked path, into a crowd of people. Mabel and Dipper, paused, letting people pass them. They saw the top of their Great Uncle's head getting farther away and started pushing through. Mabel squeezed past someone, but Dipper wasn't so lucky and he tripped. The person paused, looking down at them annoyed.

"Hey, what are you two doing around here? Door's that way." He threw his thumb over his shoulder then turned and kept walking.

Mabel helped pick her brother up. They headed down the marked path in the carpet - but Stan had disappeared from sight. They turned their heads all around, searching for the grayed hair and square jaw. Instead all they got was another crowd. They were pushed to the side - the odd looks making them back away more than anything else. Dipper pulled Mabel aside, glancing behind himself. The two of them looked at the nearest counter before taking off and slipping behind it.

Employees working on the other side began to appear, and the twins headed for the nearest door. It opened to a small dark stairwell, and they climbed, hoping to find something in the upstairs level. Coming to the top, they found yet another door.

Inside wasn't the next level. The thin staircase had led to another room. Stepping past the threshhold, a series of candles lit up, one by one.

Dipper stepped over and inspected the flickering light.

"Mabel ... ," he turned to look at her, concerned. "These are real."

"Forget that, look at this." Her eyes were fixed on the far wall, and she pointed at it.

Dipper looked, and was even more creeped out by the stuff taped to it. Weird shapes, hellish monsters, latin words and phrases, images of amulets and magical jewels. All of it strewn haphazardly against the tearing wall paper.

Dipper took in the rest of the room and saw an unmade bed, a fancy vanity, and another regular dresser. Sitting in the far corner was a pedestal. Dipper walked over to it and looked down into the cover of a leather bound book. He pulled it open and looked at one of the pages.

"Whoa," he breathed.

Mabel shivered.

"Do you think we should leave? What's this place even doing here?"

Dipper grabbed the book and stepped over to his sister.

"Look, this is like some book of the damned, or secrets of the dead." He flipped through more of the pages. "Mabel, this stuff is crazy."

Mabel snatched it away.

"That's my territory I believe." She stuck out her tongue with a grin.

Dipper snatched it back.

"I saw it first. Besides, be careful. It looks old."

Mabel looked over his shoulder.

"What's it say?"

"All sorts of stuff." He turned to the beginning and started flipping through. "Hell. Monsters. Supernatural powers. How demons are made. The types of demons there are like - Shadows, DREAMS, ghosts. HOW TO SUMMON A DEMON. How to become a demon. Mabel, this looks really, really dangerous."

"Then put it back. Where'd you find it? Let's get out of here."

Dipper turned a page, stepping back to the pedestal. At the top was written - Hell's Ascension. He quickly skimmed the page, eyes widening as he drew a connection to the account back at the bank. For a moment, as he read about ghosts and monsters finding themselves in hell, before becoming demons to fight their way back into the real world - it all felt real. He swallowed hard then ripped the page out of the book, slamming the covers shut with a hand.

"What was - ?" Mabel looked at him. She scowled. "Whatever happened to 'careful Mabel.' 'It looks old Mabel.' "

"Let's just get out of here." Dipper felt tingles up and down his spine. He wanted to leave.

Dipper put it back and they made their way out, down the stairs. Getting to the bottom, they peeked their heads out -

The door flew open and they were met with a large man in vacation attire.

"Well look who we have here." He had on a congenial smile, but the twins still felt like backing away.

Over his shoulder they caught sight of Stan, and he glanced their way, catching sight of them.

"There you are!" He made his way over.

The man looked his way.

"Now Stan, are these your grandkids?"

"My great niece and nephew Bud. Leave them alone."

"In that case, I'd just like to point out that these two children are trespassing."

"Trespassing? Try stealing my car."

"Oh, well, now there's no need to get angry."

"Just go get it."

Bud chuckled before gesturing to an employee.

"Could you escort Mr. Pines to his car?"

"You shouldn't have taken it in the first place - I'm not going to leave this alone. You're lucky I have better things to do this week - not that this hasn't already thrown a wrench in that. And you two - ," He turned on the twins. "I said not to get lost. I look away for one second and you've already disappeared." He started grumbling to himself, "and they've got me sounding just like my own Ma - oh, the humanity." He focused back on them and pointed a firm finger at the bar. "Stay here. I'll be right back." He followed the employee down the aisle and out an exit.

Dipper and Mabel got out on the other side of the bar and sat down. Bud picked up a glass and started cleaning it out with a rag while giving them a friendly smile.

"Can I get you two anything from the tap?"

Dipper and Mabel gave him a wary look.

"Uh ... ,"

"We're ... ,"

But put down his glass and picked up another.

"Soda? Milk? What would you folks like?"

"Oh." Mabel perked up. "Sure. Root beer?"

"Sure thing. That'll be a dollar twenty." Bud moved to grab a smaller cup and fill it.

"Wait you're making us - ," Dipper frowned. "We ... we don't have money."

Bud glanced up. "You mean that green isn't local?" He pointed.

"What?" Dipper followed Bud's eyes down, till he spotted the hundred dollar bill sticking out from when he'd pocketed it. "Oh." Dipper pulled it out. Offering it he asked, "can you make change?"

"Oh sure. Here," he slipped Mabel's root beer across the bar. "Just give me a second." He walked over to the cash register.

Mabel sipped her drink. She offered some to Dipper. They looked around, waiting for Stan. Waiting for Bud to come back with change. Dipper looked down the aisle towards the register, but Bud wasn't anywhere to be seen.

They waited.

In the distance a police siren sounded. Mabel sipped on her drink. The siren grew louder.

A couple pair of officers burst into the casino. Bud Gleeful came running out, hands held up to keep everyone calm. Dipper noticed the bill flapping in his grip and found it odd. Till with a gasp, he remembered where he found the money.

"Mabel!" he hissed. "Come on. We have to leave - ,"

"We should leave you two."

Dipper spun in his seat to see Stan looking the officers' way.

"Uh, Grunkle Stan. I - I accidentally - ,"

Bud Gleeful looked their way, then gestured to Stan. Their Great Uncle narrowed his eyes. A moment later cuffs were being brought out and someone was reading him his rights. Stan looked less than amused. He glared at Bud, then between each cop.

"Pardon, but I think I'd like to know why I'm being arrested - don't you think?" His tone was harsh as he gritted his words out between clenched teeth.

Bud stepped forward.

"Well it seems here is a dollar with the same set of serial numbers from that robbery last night. Caught it when these kids - your grand niece and nephew you said, didn't you Stan? - tried to pay with it. And - nobody here thinks a pair of children robbed the bank, do they?"

There were a round of laughs from a whole set of bystanders that had gathered.

Stan came back with a biting comment, "As if a child couldn't do something prison worthy - right Bud?"

Gleeful glared. Stan sneered right back before looking to the bill.

"Let me see that. Has anyone but my business rival even checked the bill?"

"I assure you Stan - ,"

An officer plucked the bill out of Bud's hand and gave it to Stan.

"See for yourself. It's stolen."

Bud looked ready to protest before realizing there wasn't much point. Stan stared down at the dollar. His shoulder's seemed to slowly tense up, and Dipper noticed a slight - ever so slight - tremble in his six fingers. And then it vanished. Stan straightened. He began flipping the bill. Turning between front and back, then flicking it up between two fingers for everyone to see.

"I see nothing. It's just a normal bill." He handed it to an officer to see for himself.

The bill was passed around, and murmurs rose up as the numbers were checked to be true. It was just another normal bill.

Apologies were given. Cuffs were put away. The crowd dispersed. Bud looked confused as he fumbled his excuses to the cops - mumbling something about eye glasses and mistaking fives for threes. Stan took Dipper and Mabel out of the casino and walked out to the car waiting near the side of the building. Dipper was turning the events over and over in his mind.

"I don't understand." He came up to the car and stopped. "I picked that up at the Funeral Home. Wasn't it part of the stolen set?"

"Oh absolutely. I saw the numbers myself. They were part of the same series from the robbery." Stan walked over to the driver's side of the car.

"Then? Then how?"

Stan looked down over the top of the car with a glare.

"Sleight of hand." His arm came up, and out of his sleeve was another hundred dollar bill. He pushed it back down, but his mood had turned sour. "And it almost didn't work because of how rusty I am." He threw open his door, but didn't get in. He stared at the twins, frowning.

Their faces grew hot. Dipper more than Mabel's. The weight of it all fell down on him. He almost got Stan arrested. He should've known not to use that hundred, but he didn't think. Dipper swallowed and looked away.

Stan finally looked down, and was about to get in the car, when he stopped. His eyes glanced into the window of the backseat. Not just the window, but whatever was reflected in the window because he turned around to see what was there. His gaze caught her. The same woman from the bank. She was watching them, walking down the sidewalk at a slow pace. She looked like a reporter, but there wasn't a crime. The police had only just gotten there.

Stan closed his door. Without a word to the twins he began walking towards her. She turned to leave, setting a brisk pace. Stan was faster. Breaking into a short run, he caught her off guard and grabbed her arm, pulling her aside.

"Who are you?"

She yanked herself free and stood at odds with him.

"I'm not at liberty to say Mr. Pines."

"So you're a cop."

She flipped her hair. "Not a cop."

"Why are you following me? You've been tuning into the police scanner, haven't you? This isn't the first time I've seen you. Last week, you weren't where you were supposed to be. That was private property. I could end whatever this is with a quick favor from the police - ,"

"I don't think that'll be necessary Mr. Pines."

"Then tell me what you want. Why are you following me?"

"That's information I can't disclose from my client - ,"

"Client?" Stan put it together. "You're a private investigator?"

"Well, you weren't exactly - you weren't supposed to know. This has always been a 'from a distance' situation."

"What's your name."

She looked away, then let out a sigh. Stretching out a hand she introduced herself, "Shandra Jimenez. Private Investigator. Freelance reporter on the side, but mostly around holidays when business is slow."

Stan took her hand and shook it. Before she could pull away, his grip tightened and he pulled her in close. Whispering something in her ear, her gaze went from annoyed to wary. Stan let go.

"Tell me who you work for."

Shandra blinked a few times then rubbed at her arm.

"Fiddleford McGucket."

"Wh - ?" Stan's expression turned bewildered. He looked down, deep in thought. "Why would he ... ," He glared up at Shandra. "Why did he hire you."

She shrugged.

"I don't know. I just investigate. I've been for a little over a month now. All I know is what I found out about you. If you want other answers, you'll have to ask him." She crossed her arms. "I - I'm not supposed to do this but ... I can give you his address. Or a number."

***

The car drove up to the Pines residence and Mabel leaned forward to look out the window.

"We're back at the house?"

Stan turned in and parked the car.

"I'd say that's enough for today." He clicked off the engine and opened his door.

Dipper got out.

"What about finding our parents? We didn't look for them at all today."

"You'd be surprised how much I've learned just from the off track incidents of the day." He stepped up the stairs and pulled out the house keys.

Mabel climbed up the steps behind them.

"So then - if we're not going anywhere else today - when are we going to Mr. McGucket's?"

" 'We?' " The door clicked open and Stan pushed. " 'We' aren't going anywhere. You're staying at the house till this all blows over."

"What?"

Dipper slipped in front of the doorway, blocking the entrance. "We're coming with. We have to!"

Stan brushed past.

"After everything that's happened today - I'm gonna have to say no."

Mabel and Dipper glanced each other, dismayed.

"But - you can't just leave us out like this!" Mabel looked between her Great Uncle and Dipper. Her expression grew uncertain. "Can you ... ?"

Stan barely spared her a glance before he walked away.

***

Back Then: 

Stanford walked into his house and slammed the door behind him, fuming. He made his way down the hall, then paused right outside the foyer. He could hear Filbrick yelling.

"You went completely over my head! Ignoring my authority!"

"How can it even matter this much?"

That was Stanley's voice. Ford felt his anger rise and he scowled.

"It makes us look weak! I refuse to let that happen!"

"It's just a job!"

"THIS IS FAMILY!"

Ford stepped into the living room. Everyone went silent as all eyes fell on him. Filbrick's glare seemed to lessen and he straightened. Fixing a cuff on his sleeve he eyed his son up and down. "Stanford - how did the convention go?"

Stanford's mood went sour. He glowered.

"It didn't." He turned to glare at Stanley who was already avoiding his gaze. "But you already knew that, didn't you?" He raised his voice. " 'Cause you're the one who crashed a car into my machine. I told you not to do anything stupid!"

"You WHAT?"

Filbrick's voice knocked Stanford off guard. He looked his father, only to see an impressive glare aimed at his twin. Stanley backed away.

"Wait," he looked to his brother. "Ford, I can explain. It was an accident - ,"

He didn't have time to say much else. Filbrick had him by the collar and was dragging him toward the door.

"Get out."

"What - ?"

Ford watched, almost in a daze as Filbrick and Stanley made their way to the exit. Stanley was thrown unceremoniously onto the curb. His father yanked a coat off the coat hanger from the entrance and thrust it out after him.

"I don't want to see you're face in this house ever again!" Filbrick slammed the door. Turning back around he stopped to face Stanford. Giving him a glare, he brushed past. "If he wants some place to stay, let him go coddle up to the Northwests."

Ford watched him go, then glared down at his hands. Looking towards the door - he turned his back and left down the hall.

***

Here Now:

Late afternoon turned to early evening. The twin's stomachs drew them to the kitchen and they found food already prepared.

Stan was nowhere to be seen - busy working in some part of the house.

The two ate in relative silence. Their thoughts stewed. Mabel finished her food then shoved the plate away.

"This is so unfair!" She glared up at Dipper. "We should be able to help. I want to be out there - looking for them. I wanna go with Grunkle Stan. I want - ,"

"I want Mom and Dad." Dipper folded his arms on the table and rested his chin. "The first 48 hors after a crime are crucial," he murmered. "It's been almost 30. I want to trust Grunkle Stan, but ... he can't even trust us."

Mabel's anger evaporated. She looked down at the table's wood. Dipper straightened in his chair. "Mabel what if was a neighbor?" His face turned urgent and worried. "What if it was someone we know? What if it was one of their co-workers, or the mailman or something. Stan's looking for people that want to get back at him, but if it's someone we know - He could see them and not even realize, but we'd know in a heartbeat."

"You heard him. He wants us to stay here. Besides. You did almost get him arrested."

"Hey - ,"

"But that's besides the point. We deserve to be able to help find clues."

Dipper pushed out his seat and stood. Taking a good look around he turned to Mabel. "You know what? I bet there's some clues floating around this house. We already looked in his study. Let's explore the rest of the place. Maybe we'll find pictures or notes, or - ,"

"Proof of an old friend Stan had a falling out with, but not before a blood oath of revenge was sworn in livid anger?"

Dipper gave his sister a strange look. "Yeah." He rolled his eyes. "Or maybe that."

"Well you never know. You saw how he took out the Valentinos." Mabel moved to walk out of the room. "People like that got enemies."

Dipper thought over that moment, but shrugged. Mabel glanced over her shoulder. "You coming?"

Dipper decided to follow. "Let's split up. You take downstairs. Come get me if you find anything."

***

Mabel ran up the stairs and found Dipper rumaging through some boxes. "Hey bro-bro?"

Dipper paused, but when he looked at his sister, she looked concerned. "What? Did you find something?"

"Uh yeah." She nodded. "You could say that."

She led him back downstairs. Through the living room they went further back, passed another hall, and went into a side room. Mabel touched the knob, hesitating a moment before pulling it open.

The two stepped in.

The room was four walls, decorated with a pair of uninteresting desks on either end. It was practically empty and unadorned except for one fact. The entire room was filled almost cover to cover with dozens of papers and notes, pictures and drawings, and all sorts of designs whether symbols or actual machines.

The whole room was ominous and made Dipper feel uneasy. The only light came from a swinging lamp with a cheep bulb, making it feel more dark and sinister. "It looks like that upstairs place back at Gleeful's." He kept his voice low. The room felt like it should be no more than whispered in.

Mabel agreed with her brother. When she'd first come in, she'd thought the same comparison - except times ten.

There was some sort of organization method to it all, but not much. The right side of the room looked more arranged. Detailed drawings of nightmares, titled with phrases that looked Latin. Stacks of pages and texts that looked either copied from books or flat out ripped from their bindings.

The left side of the room was less organized, but it had less things too. Pictures that were printed and plenty of maps with symbols added on, and tacks marking shapes that buildings made when connected. The whole room smelled of damp mulch and stuffy air, but the left side of the room had actual dust lining several books whereas the right was all well worn.

The most notable though was the center of the room. In between both desks - the first thing the eye was drawn to when entering - was a single sketched draft for a weapon. Around it were descriptions and all sorts of hand written cards with labels and definitions. Below were different layers of the gun's design, and above, lines directing to what part completed what function.

A title was written across the weapon's exterior. A name that was crossed out then rewritten at least three different times, a sharp line flying off as if a fight for the pen had taken place. Eventually it was marked without interruption and gun's name said - Hell's Declination.

Underneath a small note added 'dumb,' but was X'd out.

Dipper's head rotated in a wide arc, circling the room with his eyes. He looked back to it's central image while his hand reached into his vest.

"Mabel ... ," he stepped forward, unfolding the paper. Theories ran through his mind, but he couldn't explain them all. His voice seemed to trail off before the sound even left his lips. All he could do was place the torn page against the gun's design and look over at his sister.

'Hell's Ascension' lined up with 'Hell's Declension,' and all Mabel could think was, Close enough I guess - but why?

Dipper pulled his hand down and looked at what he'd ripped from Gleeful's book. He could clearly see explanations of some underground rising - an apocalypse ensuing. The dead frothing from their grave, unspeakable horrors wreaking revenge against those not condemned to the pains of their despicable dimension of misery, nightmares taking over - blah, blah, blah unthinkable abominations, but -

"What does it mean?" Dipper folded the page and tucked it back into his coat, not wanting to look at the foreboding cursive script anymore than he had to.

"The joke 's not funny anymore?"

Dipper shot Mabel a weird look, and she tore her eyes off the gun to stare at her brother. Dipper blinked a moment, then remembered laughing at the bank. He looked down. The floor was bare. If it wasn't for the hallway's light disrupting the room's dim shadow, he might've forgotten some of the strange atmosphere the room exuded. The bank felt so far away. But he guessed that was only because he wanted it to. What felt farther was last week. Even just two days before. At his own home with Mabel. With his parents.

A shadow moved into the light from the door and Dipper's gaze jumped up. He stiffened. Mabel caught her brother's posture and whirled around. Her face twisted into unease and she stepped back.

"H-heeey Grunkle Stan." She tried an uneasy smile.

"Get out."

The twins jumped, and skipped out of the room, skirting their Great Uncle with a wary gaze. The moment they were clear, Stan reached out for the nob and shut the door.

"What were you doing in there?" He turned, his glare questioning. "Didn't I ever mention anything about staying out of my stuff or minding your own business?"

Dipper opened his mouth to protest, the stopped when he realized Stan's question was sincere. Mabel didn't pause.

"It wasn't locked."

"I wouldn't think it'd have to be locked. It isn't - ," Stan stopped. Frustrated, he glanced at the door with a disapproving scowl. "It should be locked ... ," he seemed mad, but the distracted pause didn't seem aimed at them. A second later he shook his head and went back to glaring at them. "What do you think you were doing in my things?"

Dipper glared right back.

"Searching. Looking for clues to find our parents, because after today - after everything you've said and done, I know we caused trouble but did you really think we'd just sit still after being left out? When all we've got is this house to give us a hint after you demanded we stay here while you keep up the search, our search for - ,"

"Who said anything about staying here?"

Dipper cut off mid-thought. His Great Uncle's words made no sense. He'd just told them not a few hours before -

"You mean ... ?" Mabel's voice was hushed with awe. Her eyes grew wide, stars lighting along her irises. With a bubbling force of energy, she squealed. "We can go with you? You're taking us with? We can go? Dipper!" She could hardly cast him a look before bouncing over to Stan and jumping up at him with open arms. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! We're sorry about everything that happened today! We'll be good! Really, really good! Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!"

Stan struggled to pry his grandniece loose, half looking like he might not even want to.

"Well, if it'll keep you outta my stuff. Sure, whatever."

"Just like that?" Dipper was still confused. "But earlier you said - ,"

"Yeah I do that. Forget what I said earlier. You've got what I'm saying now. So," he managed to yank one of Mabel's arms free, and she slipped off him, "go rest up. Sleep. Bed time. Away from snooping in my business."

Dipper glanced towards the illuminated living room down the hall. "But ... it's still early evening."

"Well go ... ," he waved them off, "do - whatever it is children do."

Dipper frowned. "We're almost thirteen. Technically a teen."

"Is that supposed to be better?" Stan grabbed at both their shoulders and led them down the hall and towards the other end of the house. "You two are just too curious for your own good. Trust me, I'd know." He directed them to the stairs and pointed up.

Mabel looked to her brother, but Dipper was staring at his Great Uncle. His eyes followed Stan's hand pointing it's command, and he looked at each of the six fingers, gloved on the fist. His mysterious Grunkle with his six digits and a room full of cryptic images.

Stan's eyes caught Dipper's, staring at his hands, and his face twitched with a quick flash of contempt. He pulled back the arm and slipped both hands in a pocket.

"Go." He gestured up the stairs with a nod.

The twins turned and headed up.

***

On the other side of the house, Stan sat in his armchair and stared down the room's other occupant. "You forgot to lock up the room."

The other man looked over at him. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't - don't start lying. The kids found their way into it." The other man's jaw tensed, but he stayed silent. Stan wasn't happy, "You told me yesterday you'd keep your distance. It's tempting, but if you can't keep your head - I thought we agreed - ,"

"Damn what we agreed. He's close. Closer than ever." He paused, then stood. "Besides, you owe me."

Stan leaned back in his chair. "Today couldn't have been that bad."

"I hope you accomplished something."

"Nothing." Stan reached for a glass next to him and drank. "You found way more than my little eacapades into all - and I mean all - our distant connections."

"Boohoo." The man mocked. "You're handling it tomorrow."

"You don't want to?"

The other man paused, thinking. " ... no. You go."

"I'm taking the kids."

"Why? They almost died today. And then what would you tell their grandmother?"

"They deserve to be a part of this. If they just sat around and stewed - how long till they started blaming themselves? Till they started picturing the worst possibilities? If they haven't already? They're just kids."

The other man walked off. "Let's just hope nothing else goes wrong."

Stan mumbled a grunt of agreement. "Let's hope."

***

Bright lights flashed, and then the sky spun. Dipper found himself looking over at Mabel looking at him, each standing on nothing - floating in a void. For a moment Dipper realized he was dreaming.

Then he forgot - the blackness melting away to reveal a dark purple sky, small lights flashing in the shapes of stars. The whole world was a night sky, and it began to spin and spin - making him dizzy, almost sick to his stomach. Then Dipper was falling - he could see his sister next to him - when the ground came rushing up. They slammed into it, rough boardwalk wood scrapping their skin. Dipper wobbled to his feet and saw the ocean dragging out in front of him.

He heard a muffled scream. Dipper whirled. He saw his parents, being dragged away into a warehouse on the pier. He started running, trying to chase after them. Mabel was next to him, racing for them too.

But with each step, it seemed like they got farther and farther away, and it wasn't only frustrating, but made Dipper's heart beat faster in a panic. He wouldn't be able to make it - he wouldn't be able to get his parents in time.

A group of numbers started spinning around his head - 618. They wound their way like a spiral, taking a dive for the warehouse, slamming into it's side, framing the address at the same moment the wood doors slammed shut, trapping their parents inside - 

***

Dipper woke up. He blinked open his eyes and stared at the ceiling, then turn and saw his sister shuffle and sit up. He could smell the breakfast cooking downstairs. Mabel's eyes were clouded and dreamy. She wiped at them and looked around the room.

"Hey Mabel?" Dipper stood up from his bed. The world grew fuzzy a moment, then cleared. "I had the strangest dream last night - ,"

"Me too."

Dipper looked over at her sister, but she was staring at him eyes wide. The strange emotions of fear and expectation that he'd experience from his dream came back in a rush. It was less sharp, and his memory of it was a haze, but the emotions were just as strong.

And then the feelings left, seeming like nothing more than paranoia from a distant half baked recollection.

"What do you think it means?"

"Something's going on Dipper. We have to figure out what."

Dipper nodded. "Soon. I know."

***

The neighborhood looked rich. The neighborhood.

The streets were wide. The sidewalks weren't just clean but white, in a pristine way. The shrubbery was recently cut, the park was shiny, and the rode looked freshly paved. The houses were well spread apart, but they were big. Each one almost a mansion. Two, three, even four garages per. Triplexes that were obviously owned and lived in by one person.

Fiddleford McGucket's home was just the same. The Pines parked, then stepped up the beautifully decorated path, to reach the thick wooden door adorned with a friendly little wreath.

Dipper glanced back out at the street, but there was no one around. He turned back to Stan who had pressed the bell. Stan Pines looked out of place. He was a large man, in a nice suit, standing besides two children. It was an odd picture.

The door opened. Dipper and Mabel were greeted by a thin man with a bright smile. The moment Fiddleford laid eyes on Stan his expression dropped. He went pale. Dipper could see it in his face - he was racing to think through a difficult problem. There was a long moment of silence. His eyes strayed to the twins. He swallowed.

"I'd heard ... ,"

"From a private investigator?" Stan loomed over the man, even if he wasn't much taller.

Fiddleford looked like he was frustrated but couldn't be angry. He looked away and muttered through gritted teeth, "What do you want from me?"

Stan gestured.

"Aren't you going to invite us in?"

Fiddleford glared, but moved to step back and let them through. The twins slipped by and took a look around. It was cozy. Nice things, well organized, but littered with memorabilia and picture frames all throughout. Right to the left was the entrance to a kitchen. Fiddleford led them in through there.

"Can I get you two anything?" He looked down at them, expression softer, though not completely devoid of it's nervous pallor. He opened his fridge. "There's juice. Milk. Water?"

Stan interrupted.

"We won't be long."

Fiddleford's nose twitched, but he closed the door to his fridge.

"Well ... that's all right. The wife will be back with the grandkids soon. So whatever you need - I guess make it quick."

Stan had picked up a fake wooden apple to look it over. He put it back down and looked at the rest of the place in a wide arch. Fiddleford straightened and put his hands in his pockets. "Computer business hit off."

"I've noticed." Stan stopped his inspection and rested his gaze on Fiddleford. "Why were you investigating me?"

Fiddleford's posture lessened. He looked to Stan's cuffs. His sleeves and suit. The hat. "You look like your father."

Stan frowned. "You sent a private investigator to follow me around. I want to know why. Did someone put you up to it?"

Fiddleford let out a sigh and pulled his eyes back up to meet Stans. "If you must know Stan Pines ... I've been thinking about you." He rolled his eyes. "Maybe I'm getting sentimental in my old age, but after all these years - I've wondered what you've been up to." He glowered. "I guess that's my mistake."

"What'd you find?"

"What?"

"What did that reporter get on me? I want to know how far you've dug into my business."

Fiddleford shook his head.

"Nothing, nothing at all. Nothing important - ,"

"How would you know what I find important?"

Fiddleford let out a sigh, then looked to the twins. His gaze dropped to the ground. "Actually, I couldn't find you at first. I didn't know where to look. Only had a name - if that." He hesitated. "I ... - I found your nephew." He looked up, owning what he was trying to say. "It came up that his family wasn't doing well recently. I decided to reach out and offer some anonymous help. Food stamps. Gift cards. A list of job offers that would be plenty willing to hire - ," here he looked to the twins, "especially with your hardworking father's excellent credentials - ,"

"How saintly." Stan's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You know what's happened to them?"

Fiddleford became somber. "It's - yes. I've heard. It's troubling, that."

"Who else knows where they live?"

Fiddleford looked confused. "I don't understand."

"Well seeing as no one else has ever known where they live in connection with me - and they weren't kidnapped till you hired someone to find out - ,"

"Wait, you don't think I had something to do with that?"

"Did you?"

"Of course not!"

"Then who else knows where they live. Do I need to pay that reporter a visit, or did you gossip it up with a brother-in-law - or something else?"

"As if I'd discuss you to any of my family members. It's not as if we've ever been friends." Stan didn't respond. Fiddleford crossed his arms. "You know, I find it rude. You coming here unannounced. Accusing me of things - ,"

"Fi - McGucket." Stan was glaring and Fiddleford felt a small shiver he fought to repress. He was reminded of Filbrick again but kept that to himself. He tried avoiding Stan's gaze. His eyes roamed all around his kitchen, but they kept going back to the kids. He had half a mind that Stan had brought them for the very purpose of keeping him softer. After a moment, he let out a sigh and dropped his arms.

"Are you sure ... that maybe someone else had perhaps ... ,"

"Why?"

Fiddleford walked across the kitchen to the window. He stared out the blinds, into his front lawn. "Okay." He turned back around and faced them. "My mailman." He looked to Stan. "I never would have even thought - but now that you mention it." He looked between Stan and the kids. I've had a different mailman for a few small weeks now. Or - at least I did. He's back. Just the other day. And I don't even know his name, but he's impossible to miss. Quite a hairy fellow. Just disappeared for a while. I've brought it up to him as well, and he's no idea what happened. But for a few weeks ... - up until I started sending letters. Those things I tried to give your nephew. I posted them in my mail. It's funny - I don't even know if they arrived. But they had their address."

"Who was it?"

Fiddleford's expression grew wry. "You know ... after all these years, I can still spot a Corduroy when I see one."

Stan was taken off guard, his expression grew surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Red hair? Well built? General preference for plaid? Yes I'm sure."

Stan looked to the ground, working something out in his mind. Another second and he was leaving for the door. "Come on kids." He didn't even look back.

Fiddleford looked between them at the sudden departure. Words bubbled at his tongue. "W - ," He moved to stop them. To put to a rest a feeling that had been eating away at him for a while. "Wait." Stan paused, door slightly ajar. Fiddleford chewed at his lip. But mustering the courage he threw it out there, desperate. "You have to tell me. Please, I have to know. 40 years I've waited Stan Pines. 40 years not knowing - ," his voice turned bitter. "Not knowing which of my friends wouldn't tell me which of the other died." He squeezed his eyes shut, battling with that truth.

Stan's face was impassive. He looked away. "You said so yourself - we were never friends." He walked out and made his way back down the path.

Fiddleford stared after him, expression shocked. The twins glanced at him one last time, then followed after their Great Uncle.

***

Stan Pines did the worse thing he could possibly think of.

He called the police.

Cop cars showed up to the docks at the edge of Glass Shard Bay. They found, not only the kidnapped couple, but evidence of an immense smuggling trade station. However no one except the head of the Corduroy family - Dan Corduroy - could be tied to any of the illegal activity and most of the family's members walked.

Wendy forced her way through the crowd of people and walked right up to Stan. Glaring she slapped him across the face.

"How dare you," She spat. Her voice was venom.

Stan recovered, straighting, but didn't say a word. She stood waiting for some kind of response, but when she didn't get one, she spun on her heel and walked away. The unspoken 'I quit' was clear enough. 

People stared, but eventually went on with proceedings.

Later, Stan Pines brought the twins to the station and stood back while they ran across the hall to their parents, waiting with open arms. They clasped each other in tight hugs, tears streaming down their faces as they murmured thoughtful words to each other. He watched, indifferent to it all. His sister-in-law walked up with misty eyes, a soft smile beaming at him.

"Thank you," she whispered. She took hold of his hand in both of hers and squeezed it. "Thank you so much." She looked at him with an expression of pure gratitude.

Stan squeezed back.

After paperwork and questioning from the police, the rescued couple arrange to spend the next few days with Dipper and Mabel's grandmother. They were going to wait with family while the locks on their own building were changed, and they felt safe to return to their own home.

Dipper balked. He looked around the police station, but it seemed his Great Uncle was long gone. In the car on the way to Stan's house, he went over the last few hours in his head. He looked up at his parents and then at Mabel, and it made him smile. But then he looked out the window and pieces weren't clicking. They parked, and Mabel went to go inside and get her things.

Dipper reached over and grabbed her arm.

"Can we stay?" He asked his question out to everyone in the car, looking from each member of his family then at his confused sister. He tried to elaborate. "Just one more night. To say goodbye to Stan? We've only gotten to see him just the day ... ,"

Their parents looked surprised. Mabel looked uncertain, but one glance with Dipper and she asked as well. Their parents relented.

"But you have to ask him first. I'm sure he's got work to do - ," their grandma looked at them from the front drivers seat.

The twins nodded and ran off inside. Mabel went to find Stan, but Dipper stopped her. Another moment and he went back out, telling them they were clear. Their parents left and Dipper went back in, pulling Mabel up the stairs and into their room.

"Dipper, what are you - ?" She fell onto her bed, letting herself sit.

"It doesn't make sense." Dipper began pacing in the middle of the room. "None of this makes sense."

Mabel sat back on her bed. "You're doing that over-thinking-things thing, aren't you?"

"I'm not over-thinking things, I'm thinking through things. You can't tell me something doesn't feel off?"

Mabel seemed almost tired.

"What doesn't make sense? What doesn't fit together about enemies of Grunkle Stan trying to get back at him?"

"But ... But think about it - ,"

"I am thinking about it." The overwhelming emotions of the week seemed to crash down on Mabel in the single moment she could finally rest. "Did someone ELSE take mom and dad? And just plant them at the Corduroy's? Did the Ramirez's help? Did Mr. McGucket scheme with someone to put this all in place? What does it matter? We've got our parents back. We should be with them. At grandma's. Not here still worrying about it Dipper."

"I ... ," Dipper paused. "I mean ... ," Dipper stopped to take a look around the room. He frowned, realizing his sister was right. He let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. You're right Mabel. We shouldn't be here. Let's ... let's call grandma. Tell her to come pick us up."

Mabel pursed her lips.

"Well ... we're already here." She tried to catch her brother's eye, to cheer him up. "And you were right about saying goodbye to Grunkle Stan."

"Maybe." Dipper sat on his bed. "In that case, we should probably tell him we're still here."

Mabel giggled. "Yeah."

Neither of them moved. They were content to just sit in the room. Mabel let herself lay down and began to nod off. Dipper laid down as well, resting his head on the mattress, but he couldn't help thinking about everything that had happened.

"But how?"

Mabel was pulled out of her fog. "Mm?"

Dipper looked at her, not wanting to go off again, but he couldn't help it. "Mabel, what about the Valentinos?"

Mabel blinked open her eyes and rubbed at them. "Wha' about 'em?"

"Well, don't you think it's a bit of a coincidence that they'd decide to frame Stan for a robbery at the same time the Corduroys decided to kidnap mom and dad?"

"Maybe they were working together. I thought it didn't matter?"

"But what if they try again? What if they try to do something worse to get at Stan?"

Mabel pulled herself up, a bit more awake. "So ... then what? What about the Valentinos?"

"That's just what I'm telling you. It doesn't make sense."

Mabel frowned. "Well neither does the Northwests thinking to drain all of Grunkle Stan's money at the same time the Valentinos framed him for a bank robbery and the Corduroys kidnapping our parents."

"Exactly."

"Do you really think they were all working together?"

"No, that's just it. I think they were all independent thoughts."

"Well then ... ," Mabel's eyes screwed up and she shook her head. "What?"

"It started with the Northwests. Draining Stan's accounts. Then the Valentinos. Framing him. Then the Corduroy's kidnapping our parents. But how did they know? How did they know to look at Mr. McGucket's mail? Isn't that kind of a stretch?"

Mabel started to think.

"Someone had to have told them where to look. And Grunkle Stan and Mr. McGucket haven't talked in years. Right?"

"Maybe it's someone older than that. Someone who knew they knew each other a really, really long time ago."

"Someone's been using them. All of them. The Northwests. The Valentinos. The Corduroys. Mr. McGucket." Mabel turned uneasy. "Someone ... someone must really not like Grunkle Stan."

Dipper pulled a paper out of his vest. He didn't unfold it, just rubbed it in his fingers. "Mabel? You know something I can't stop thinking about?"

Mabel looked at the old paper, ripped from the book at Gleeful's.

"You don't think?"

"Well what if?"

"That's crazy. Cra-cra Dipper. Cra-cra."

"But it's been around from the very start! Those files at the Northwests. Back at the bank. Gleeful's? Stan has an entire room. Right here! In this very house, filled to the brim with all of that weirdness. There has to be some kind of connection."

Mabel was starting to see pieces fit. She shook her head.

"This is crazy."

"Who do we know that's known Stan since a really, really long time ago?"

"That's impossible."

"Who do we know that's died - creating the perfect alibi."

"But why would Grunkle Stan's twin hate him so much?"

"Because - ," Dipper stopped. He frowned and looked away, musing that out. "Well ... I don't know. Maybe ... maybe they had some sort of falling out."

"There's no way. They're twins. We're twins. There's nothing you could do that'd make me hate you that much. Not ever."

"Well ... if he's a demon, don't you think it'd be easier?"

Mabel moaned. "I don't like this. I really, really don't like this."

"But we have to do something! He came after mom and dad! What if he does something else?"

Mabel squeezed her eyes shut. She tried not thinking about it, - about the possibilities - but they came anyway. And then another image came.

"The box."

"What?" Dipper tried to understand what his sister meant.

"That box. The one in Stan's office. I bet it's that gun. The one from his room. That design. The gun Dipper! We can go to the abounded warehouse on the piers and stop Stan's evil twin!"

"Warehouse 618?"

"From our dream. The one we had last night. It's connected. You're right, it's all connected!"

Dipper blinked, surprised. Mabel was right. They didn't wait a second longer. The twins ran downstairs, making their way towards Stan's office.

They peered inside the door, but no one was around. Tip-toeing, they pulled the large chair from behind the desk and pushed it against the wall. Dipper climbed up, and then Mabel used him to get the high shelf. Once there, she realized what she wanted was placed above yet another box since the last time she saw it, placing it that much higher than it already was before. Dipper twisted under his sister's weight and she tried to readjust, but no matter how hard she stretched, she could only just reach -

Her footing slipped, Mabel fell -

Stan caught her in his arms and dropped her to the floor, all in a single motion.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The younger twins were frozen, shocked once again by their Great Uncle's appearance. Stan looked between them with a frown.

"Why are you still here? You were supposed to go home."

"We came to get our things," Mabel burst out. She looked over at Dipper, then decided to plunge into their explanation. "But something wasn't making sense. I know you got the Corduroy's, but we think someone else planned it all."

"We know you know too. We came to get your gun. We had a dream about where to find them - ,"

"You what." Stan's eyes were wide. Then his brow furrowed in bewildered confusion. "You were going to go on your own?"

"Well ... ," Mabel started to frown. "We want to make sure our family 's safe. We - ,"

"You need to leave. Tell me what you dreamed about, and then I'm calling your parents."

Mabel was distraught.

"Grunkle Stan you can't!"

Dipper wasn't happy either.

"How come you've never told anyone? How come you didn't tell us? While we were looking for our parents. While they were kidnapped."

"You kids don't know what you're talking about. There's nothing to tell." Stan tried to reach out for Mabel.

She stepped back.

"We'll just tell our parents. About demons and monsters, and we'll tell them where to find what took them - and they'll call the police!"

"None of that stuff exists. No one 's goin' believe you" Stan tried reaching out again.

Dipper's eyes was drawn to his hand again. To their Great Uncle's six fingered hand.

He saw five.

Dipper's eyes widened and he looked to Stan, taking a sudden step back.

"You ... you're ... ,"

Stan looked over at him, stopping when he saw the fearful expression on his grandnephew's face.

"What?"

Dipper jumped to Mabel's side.

"What'd you do with our Great Uncle Stan?"

Stan looked between the younger twins, trying figure out what they meant. Mabel looked at her brother, confused as well. Dipper's heart began to beat faster, but he confronted the man in front of him.

"Our Great Uncle has six fingers. You're not him. What'd you do with him!"

Stan's eyes jumped down to his hand. He blinked as if surprised to see only five digits. He looked back up shaking his head.

"I can explain - ," he tried reaching out.

Dipper turned and pulled Mabel out of the office. Stan called after them.

"Kids!"

The twins raced up the stairs. Looking over their shoulders, they could see they weren't being followed. Still, they ran all the way to their room and locked their door. Then they pushed their beds in front of it, barricading the only entrance. Puffing, stepped back and put their hands on their knees. Mabel glanced at Dipper.

"What now?"

***

Back Then:

Silverware clinked against plates. Filbrick forked his food and took a bite. Mrs. Pines sipped at her glass. Stanford glanced up at Shermy.

What a reunion. They had the whole family sitting at one table, together again. Their older brother sharing another meal besides them.

Stanford was all too aware of the empty chair. No one said a word. Ignoring the obvious.

Ignoring Stanley's absence.

He'd have to rebuild the machine. It took a lot of money and time the first go around, but he could get it rebuilt by next year. Get it ready for the next Science Convention. He wouldn't have had to though if Stanley could've just contained himself. He'd warned him. He'd told him not to be an idiot and what did he do? Wreck a car?

Something crashed at the front of the house. The whole family paused to look up. Noises came scuffling down the hall. They made their way into the dining room and a group of men stepped in. At the head was the business man that had tried to work with Stanford before. All the intruders were armed.

Filbrick rose from his chair, slamming his hands on the table.

"Just what do you think you're doing Mr. Cipher?"

The man smiled, feeling at leisure with the situation.

"I tried doing this the easy way Pinesy - ,"

A bang rang out, sending a shock through Stanford's spine. Filbrick slumped to the floor. Another bang. Then another. Ford watched his mother and Shermy fall. He sat in his chair, eyes wide, not understanding. He looked, down past the table, to see them lying on the ground. Their own eyes still open, red wounds pooling in the center of each head.

" - Now for the hard." Cipher dropped his arm and put the gun back in his coat. He gestured to his companions.

They moved, stepping around the table, and went to grab Ford. Watching them approach made him stiffen. Stanford looked at the situation, noticing details, but unable to do anything as they pulled him from his chair and dragged him out. He watched his family the whole way, a morbid fascination guiding his thoughts.

They forced him down the hallway where Ford saw a few others tossing gasoline across the floor and all of the house's belongings. He was shoved past that, out the door where a car was waiting. Out of the trunk they pulled a black bag. Unzipping it revealed a cadaver that was shaped ruffly like Ford.

Something in his head clicked. They were going to fake his death. So no one would come looking for him. He was being kidnapped. His breath spread up. Energy worked their way into his limbs and Ford began to fight. He yanked his arms away from his captors and turned to run.

They smashed into him and dragged him towards the car, tossing him in the trunk thrashing. He kicked out, but before Ford could get free the lid slammed shut.

***

Here Now:

There was a knock at their door.

"Children?" Dipper and Mabel looked up, wary. There was another knock. "May I come in please. I need to speak with you."

"Go away." Dipper looked at his sister, but he shared her sentiment. The voice tried again.

"I think you've extremely misconstrued this entire situation. But I need to speak with you."

Dipper shouted out at the door. "Well we don't want to talk to you!"

"Yeah! Give us back our real Grunkle. Not some demon."

On the other side Stan paused, confused. "I can assure you. I'm completely corporeal."

"Go away!"

"What'd you do with our Grunkle Stan?"

Stan let out a sigh.

"I am your Great Uncle Stan. Look - I can prove it, if you just come out."

Dipper didn't trust it.

"You could just be lying."

"Or I could not. You wouldn't know till you came out."

Mabel tapped her brother's shoulder.

"I have an idea." She called out to the door. "What type of ice cream did you buy us yesterday?"

"Ice cream ... ?" The man on the other side mumbled something under his breath, then spoke louder. "If it's memory proof you want, then I remember that yesterday Mabel was sipping a root-beer before we tried leaving the Gleeful's casino. I know of the fact that you've been to a diner for breakfast. And I know we've had to take a surprisingly less than clean bus across town. Also that apparently just last night, you were snooping around the house. Any other desired 'proof?' "

"What type of Ice cream."

Dipper was starting to relax. "Maybe he's telling the truth."

"Ice cream."

Dipper frowned but didn't say anything. He waited for a response. They could hear more frustrated mumbles then, "I suppose ... yesterday ... it must have then been ... some - assortment of a single cheep vanilla flavor - perhaps, paired with a equally priced, but much more expensive looking waffle cone from ... that one spot down the way."

Dipper and Mabel shared a look, then smiled. They went to move away the beds. When Stan heard the scraping of metal against wood he let out a long, exasperated sigh, then muttered something under his breath.

The door opened.

Stan faced the two, expression unreadable. Dipper looked to his hands and saw, sure enough, six ungloved fingers. Stan took in a deep breath, then gestured down the stairs.

"There is something I am going to show you. Something I've never told anyone else ever before, but I need you two to trust me."

Dipper and Mabel shared a confused, and somewhat concerned look, but they followed Stan downstairs. They were led back into the office. On the bookshelf behind the desk, Stan pulled a thick volume back. A noise clicked and the whole thing moved to reveal a door. Stan stepped inside, leaving them alone for a moment. A few seconds later the knob turned, the door swung open, and Stan stepped back out.

And then Stan stepped back out.

Again.

Two Stans.

They stood in the office, side by side. Both wearing an identical suit. Both tucking their hands into their pockets. Both unrecognizable from the other - alive and well, both of them.

Both looking down at the shocked younger twins.

Chapter Text

Back Then:

The news was everywhere. Word spread fast, especially in New Jersey's underbelly. Stanley thought over that as he drove the Red Diablo. He was going as fast as he could, but traffic was growing thick the closer he got. Everyone else wanted to know. Wanted to see.

The police had blocked off the road. He had to park. Stanley got out of his car and started to make his way down the sidewalk. What he'd heard - they had to be rumors. Just wild speculation. The vain hopes and dreams of the Pines' enemies.

But he could see smoke.

He could hear the sirens. See the glowing red as he turned the corner. Smell the overwhelming ash falling from the sky - into his nose. All he could do was stare.

There were so many people. Half in uniforms - pointing and shouting out commands. But neighbors and bystanders, and spectators - everyone looking up at his house. Watching it go down like a campfire burning trash. The fire was so huge. Flames licked the sky - yards above the actual roof. The small wind only fueled it on. The whole building was red hot. Still standing, but close to going down and the firefighters were still winding their way around inside.

And then he was moving. Twisting around people, making his way towards the police. Who had been inside? Did they make it out? Was his family okay?

It was odd how a little thing like threat of death could make you forget about the grudges and anger. In that moment, Stanley knew he'd travel to Antarctica to get away from his family if that's what they wanted - so long as they were just alive.

The next few minutes were a blur. He talked to the police. Shouted at them. Bargained with them. All he got in return were vague promises and the command to stay back. Each minute not knowing made everything so much worse.

All he could do was wait. He sat across the street, at the edge of the sidewalk. He watched the fire be lassoed and tamed. Watched the crowd come and go like the waves of Glass Shard Beach. Each minute he didn't see his father, storming over to him with some angry scowl, was a minute spent growing more and more certain that maybe he never would. Not ever again. Maybe he'd never see his mother scoff at the next dumb thing that came out of his mouth. Never see ...

Or maybe they went out for dinner. Maybe they'd be back any minute fuming about what could've happened to their house. Maybe ...

They started pulling out bodies.

They rolled one out on a gurney, charred and unrecognizable. Stanley's stomach dropped. That was one family member he was never going to see again. And he couldn't even tell who. He started taking in deep breaths. He lowered his head between his knees and began to breathe. In and out. Over and over. He let out a shuddering last breath of air and dared to look back up.

His gaze was captured by the image of his sister-in-law stepping down the street. Her eyes were glued to the black ashes of the house. Stanley stood, mouth hanging open in shock. His gaze whipped from her to the house. He'd forgotten. It hadn't mattered. He hadn't even realized.

Shermy was in there.

He heard a sharp gasp and then the sudden onslaught of sobs. He looked to see Shermy's wife bursting into tears. Without thinking he was by her side. She was in his arms. She didn't even question it. Her eyes were glued to the house. Tears were streaming down her face.

Stanley watched as they pulled out another body.

He started trembling and held his sister-in-law tighter. They were dead. They were all dead. His Ma. His Pa. Shermy.

...

He looked at the bodies. Really looked. Maybe he could spot the lie. Maybe they were pulling out weird shaped wood. The bodies were being wheeled out, then packed into body bags. He wondered how well they'd be inspected. If someone might even try.

It occurred to Stanley, this might not be an accident. Maybe someone had finally got the best of the Pines family. Would the police even bother searching for the murderer?

He caught a glint of gold. There, on a body's finger. A ring. He could see them. On each of the three bodies being pulled out. A thick heavy gold covered in soot. One for his father. One for his mother. One for Shermy. He knew if he looked, he'd see a matching pair on the woman shaking in his arms.

A fourth body was wheeled out.

"No ... ," Stanley broke away from his sister-in-law. He moved closer, gaining speed. Someone tried to stop him and he pushed past. He slipped under the police tape and came up to it. To the body.

Tears threatened to slip past his eyes, but he clenched his jaw tight and forced himself to stare. It was horrific. He'd have nightmares about the very sight of the deceased. But then his gaze trailed down.

To the fingers.

His mouth opened in shock. Confusion overwhelmed him. Someone came up behind him and kindly ordered he go back behind the line. They pulled him away, but Stanley couldn't keep his eyes from following the body. Wondering if his mind was playing tricks. Giving him hope he didn't need.

He stood back on the other side of the street and just watched. They finished with all the bodies, doing a final check before stating it was clear. Stanley felt numb. The police began talking with neighbors. They conversed with Shermy's wife. The firetruck began to pull out and leave.

But Stanley had only seen five fingers on that dead man's hand.

***

Here Now:

Mabel looked between them and came to her conclusion. "You cloned yourself." She nodded, keeping herself calm. "Neat-o."

Dipper nudge Mabel and corrected her, not knowing whether to be excited or afraid. "They're twins." He looked from the one on the left to the one on the right. He tried matching his theories with the reality. "But I don't understand - why are you working together? And how did you bring your own brother back from the dead?"

The Stan's shared a confused look. Right-Stan asked them a clarifying question. "Before now, what exactly did you think was going on?"

"You're brother died, then became a demon, and then came back for revenge and kidnapped our parents. Obviously."

Left-Stan snickered. "Obviously."

Right-Stan elbowed him. "Don't mock. They've clearly put a lot of thought into it. At the very least it's quite imaginative. If not more or less entirely wrong." Left-Stan rolled his eyes. 

Mabel piped up. "So you did clone yourself."

"No, Mabel." Right-Stan began his explanation. "The truth of the matter is, whatever evidence led you to believe that one Pines twin perished in a fire 40 years ago while the other survived, is wrong."

Dipper thought back to the Valentinos. "But we saw your death certificate."

Left-Stan looked to him. "It's wrong. There to keep people from even suspecting there might ever have been two of us."

Mabel chewed on that. "But ... why? Why would do that? Don't you think that's rather - extreme?"

"The circumstances of our ruse was extreme," Right-Stan replied. "And further more we've been able to keep it a secret from everyone almost our entire lives. The very fact that we're revealing it to you two now proves that ... - well the situation has turned dire."

Dipper frowned. He knew something else had been going. "How so?"

Something occurred to Mabel. "Wait, which of you is our real Grunkle?"

The Stans looked at her, not understanding.

"What do you mean?" Left-Stan asked.

"Well - who are you?"

Left-Stan pointed to the right. "Stanford."

Right-Stan pointed to his left. "Stanley."

Dipper pointed between each, trying to remember their names. But he thought Mabel had a point. "But which one of you has been with us this whole time?"

The Stans shrugged.

"Neither."

"Both."

Mabel's head spun. "What?"

Dipper was confused too.

"But who picked us up from the police station? Who took us to Gleeful's casino? Who found our parents?"

Right-Stan - Stanford - turned an intent gaze on Dipper. "Listen carefully. It doesn't matter which one of us did which things. Stan Pines was with you the whole time. That's the only thing that should matter."

Mabel's voice grew quiet. "Which one of you saved us at the Valentinos?"

Stanford looked to his brother and Left-Stan - Stanley - gazed intently at Mabel.

"Look. Sweetie. It's been a long couple of days. We didn't think to tell you all of this so we could spend the next hour explaining who was with who when. This is all only because you kids said you had a dream. One showing you where to find someone?"

Dipper looked from his sister to the Stans, a suspicion growing. "If one of you isn't a demon, then who's been trying to get back at you? Why do you still want to know about our dream?"

Both Stan's expressions darkened. Stanley explained it. "There is someone. Not a man. Bill Cipher. We've waited 40 years to see him again - to finally end this - and now he's reappeared. He wants the key pieces of information to building a portal. One that'll allow him to enter this dimension and reshape it in his own horrific image."

Stanford took up the dialogue, interrupting his brother like a mirror finishing his reflection's sentence. "We've learned that one of the main ways he manipulates people is by connecting with them in their dreams. He's shown you where to find him in the hopes that you'll go there and get in our way. It's only by sheer luck that we stopped you in time, or who knows what would've happened."

Dipper felt defensive. "Well what if we would've helped? We still might. We can go with you and - ,"

"And what?" Stanley glared at him. "Get yourself killed? Think that through Dipper. Really think that through."

"But I - ,"

Stanford interrupted. "Relate to us the context of your dream. If we hurry, this can all be over and behind us before tomorrow."

"But ... will it?" Mabel looked around at everyone. "How do we know they still aren't lying?"

Stanley looked confused, then seemed almost offened. "Why would we lie?"

Mabel glared at him. "Well you lied about everything else." She turned to her brother. "Think about it. The way he treated Soos? Wendy?" She looked to the Stans. "Or was that all just some kinda complicated ruse too?"

"That was ... ," Stanford looked down then away with a frown, his expression almost guilty.

Stanley was just mad. "We don't have to explain ourselves to you. To two ... - children."

Dipper jumped to correct him. "We're almost teens."

"How is that better?"

Stanford broke in between them. "Look. I suppose you'll just have to trust us."

Mabel wasn't buying it. "Like you trusted us?"

"We've entrusted you with one of our longest held secrets. Yes. Exactly like that."

"But you never told anyone else?"

"There was never a precedent for it. I don't understand how this matters. Just divulge the simple location - ,"

"But you lied to us." Mabel glared at her two Great Uncles, defiant.

Dipper was starting to lose sight of his sister's argument. "Mabel, maybe we should just ... ,"

Mabel whirled on him. "They lied Dipper. The whole time we were looking for mom and dad and they were lying. They never told anyone. Not about this. Not about Bill Cipher. And it got our parents kidnapped!"

Without speaking to anyone in particular, Stanford shook his head and looked at the floor. "This is exactly what he wanted. We're going to miss an opportunity." He frowned, and then another thought occurred to him. His face hardened. He stared up, placing a determined expression on both twins. "Tell us what we want to know or ... ," words stuck in his mouth, but another second and he made up his mind. "Or we'll be certain to throw your family into further financial ruin."

The whole room seemed to grow silent. Dipper, almost shocked, turned outraged. "What? You're threatening us?"

Mabel took a visible step back. "You wouldn't. You're bluffing."

Stanley looked to his brother, just as disturbed. Without looking to the younger twins he shook his head.

"I'm afraid not sweetie. You've no idea how much has built up to this." He turned his gaze on them, backing his brother up. "It's time this ended. Either way you're going back up to bed."

Dipper was fed up.

"It's no where near, any semblance of a bedtime."

Stanley didn't care. And it looked like Stanford was serious. Mabel and Dipper had no other choice. They told them.

"A warehouse on the pier. 618."

After that they were herded back up to their room and left alone. Bitter, disappointed, and even more tired than before, the two fell asleep.

***

Back Then:

The dingy apartment complex felt even more ominous by the fact it was owned by Northwests. That lent it an air of mystery seeing as he'd never thought to even notice it before now. But if his information was correct - Stanford was in there.

He went to go inside. Stanley looked like a wreck. Dirty. Anxious. Running off about a week of mostly sleepless nights. His family was gone, but it still hadn't really sunken in. He was looking for Ford. It was all he thought about. All he let himself think about.

He looked both ways across the parking lot and made his way over. Up a flight or two of stairs and he stood in front of the door where Stanford should be. Where Stanford WAS. He was in there, because if not there then ...

He didn't knock, just checked the handle then bashed it in with his foot. Stanley wasn't playing games. Whoever took point on all this wouldn't get off without a few black eyes and maybe a bashed in chest. This was family.

He was immediately greeted by a pair of guys, one muscle the other more the logistics type. They came at him with surprised anger and Stanley clocked the big one right in the nose. The other got a gut full of fist before Stanley threw him to the ground.

Lee straightened to get his first survey of the apartment. There wasn't much in the way of furniture or decorations, but it looked like the two men had been meeting with - a businessman. Not just any businessman - Stanley knew him. He paused in the doorway, framed by two groaning bodies while he took stock.

"Is that ... ?" The man in the suit - the man that'd gotten Stanley his job with Northwests, the one that'd gotten him in so much heat - stepped around a low level coffee table to face Stanley. "Stanley Pines?" He grinned, his smile disarming and wide.

"You!" Stanley's blood started to boil. In a moment he knew - he knew, without a shadow of a doubt - that this was the man that'd caused everything. He didn't know how. Didn't know why. Just felt his chest start to constrict with unbridled anger. His hands itched to beat his face in bloody. "Where's Stanford!" He took a single step forward and snatched the man by the collar, yanking him forward. "Where's my brother."

The man's smile only grew wider.

"You know, I'd forgotten all about you. What a silly little thing to overlook. You have perfect timing."

Stanley didn't like the words coming out of his mouth. He didn't know what they meant in context, but they felt like acid dripping past lips. Dripping past lips stretched too thin from that smile. He grabbed onto him with both hands and shook him hard. And it felt good. To rock the man with the force of his anger. He was so furious, and he wasn't even sure what'd he'd done.

The man's hair split from it's smoothed over gell look, to fall disjointed at a disheveled angle. He laughed. Stanley felt a shiver up his back.

"Where's Stanford?" He jerked the man up straighter. "I want an answer."

Secretly Stanley wondered if he really did. He wondered if the man was only laughing because he knew the answer was 'back at the house.' If his brother was at the morgue, or maybe even buried by now, his body half ash and the rest sitting underneath the ruins of his old home.

"How about I make you a deal." Hands reached up to push away from Stanley's, and surprisingly, Stanley let him. The man stood on his feet and pushed the strands of hair back into place, his smile not slipping for a moment. "I'll give you what you want, if you give me something in return." He held out a hand.

Stanley found himself thrusting up an arm before he could even think.

"Deal, what do you want?"

The man gripped his palm, smile practically bursting as it stretched to an inhuman reach.

"You." He yanked.

The world spun, the ground toppled out beneath him, and his vision shifted, but not before he thought he saw a pair of yellow eyes flicker in a haughty smirk in front of him.

***

Here Now:

There was a sound of a click as the barrel snapped into place. Stanford looked down its side then made an adjustment. There was another click.

Stanley leaned against the red Diablo. His eyes strayed out towards the water. The smallest sliver of a moon was reflected in the waves. Stanford glanced at him, before picking up another piece of their weapon and screwing it on. His went about his work, hands deft as they assembled the gun. He could feel the warehouse glaring into his back. Every moment spent in the shadow of its outside was another moment till the end. Stanford was tense.

Stanley was calm. 

He pulled out his gun and checked the magazine, hands just as comfortable wearing six fingered gloves as five. He didn't know what to expect once inside the warehouse, but whatever they faced wasn't an issue. They'd been through worse. It felt like their entire lives seemed to have led up to this moment. He looked over at his brother. Stanford glanced over at him then back to the weapon. He was doing double checks, then triple checks - making sure when the moment came the thing would fire. To Stanley it felt like his twin was wasting time - stalling, nervous. He reached over and plucked the weapon out of his brother's hands, assembling the rest himself - leaving Stanford's arms to droop to his side, useless.

"Back at the house." Stanley clicked pieces together, almost as familiar with the machine as Stanford himself. "With the kids." He slid on the barrel and screwed it into place, his movements almost identical to his brother - fingers and all. "Threatening them."

Stanford watched, eyes focused on the bits of metal and his brother's gloved hands. Stanley snapped the last piece into place then paused. He looked to Stanford. His brother had been waiting for this moment for almost forty years. He'd prepared and worried and obsessed. He'd threatened the kids. Stanley knew what this meant to him.

"This ends tonight." He tossed the gun and Stanford caught it. They shared a single look.

Stanford turned towards the warehouse. Stanley moved to his side and they both made their way towards the entrance.

***

Back Then:

Ford crouched towards the ground, trying to force himself as close to the corner as physical space would allow. He kept away from the single long table covered in paper - most of which was his own stolen research and papers bought off from Fid - his assistant, months ago.

It had everything he could need. Calculations, pen, paper, a chalkboard, diagrams, even chunks of metal and tools. Everything he'd need to give away the information towards his completed machine.

Ford himself was almost as much of a mess as the room. His clothes were the same. He hadn't gotten much sleep. And he'd been 'ruffed up' more than once - but he couldn't imagine giving away the information they wanted. Not only would it be handing away the only bargaining chip he had, but once he'd fully grasped the true scope of his machine the question was simple. His discomfort - his life? Or the entire world.

The knob shifted.

Stanford's heart leaped out of his chest. A full week on such a high alert had him exhausted to the point of absurdity, every muscle tense. He waited for the door to open, terrified of what he'd want now, desperate for it to be over.

Someone came in. Stanford glanced up, just to see - and recognized a familiar face attached to those yellow eyes.

"Stanley - ," He snapped his mouth shut, slowly covering it with his hands in horror.

Cipher grinned back at him. 

"Guess who I found?" He stepped inside and pressed the door shut behind him. "I thought you'd be interested. That maybe this ... - ," Cipher gestured at his form, "you're brother - could ... improve your mood."

Stanford pushed himself up from his crouch, still pressed firmly into the corner. Whatever determination he'd thought he had was starting to seep out of him. He was melting under the relief of seeing Stanley. Seeing his brother - a familiar face - in such a hostile room, under such hostile circumstances.

Even wearing his brother's face, Cipher looked smug. "So how about now? Are you gonna tell me what I need? Or better yet - let me into that bright head of yours?" He moved to the table and snatched up the waiting pad and pen. "Do we have a deal?" He tossed it at Stanford, and once again Stanford caught it against his chest.

He looked down, resolutions wavering. It was a simple set of instructions. A few strokes of ink and maybe the past week could all disappear. Stanford looked up towards his brother. His knees went weak. He leaned further into the wall, trying to keep himself up as his mind spiraled. He felt so lost - Stanley was right there. What could Cipher do to him? What could Stanford put him through all for the sake of a single project?

His head ran blank and he felt himself repeating the same set of movements.

"No." Saying it put the situation back into perspective. Whatever happened - the world was at stake. He couldn't. Not ever. Not for anything. Not for ... Stanley? "No." He shook his head, only feeling enough energy to refuse.

Cipher's smugness turned into frustration. "Sure I can't make you change your mind?" He strode forward and latched on Stanford's arm, yanking him closer.

It was Stanley. It was his brother. He could smell his brother's wretched breath - he obviously hadn't been brushing - but the yellow eyes mixed in made him unsure how to react.

"Let's try this again." Cipher took out a knife. A knife out of Stanley's pocket. But it wasn't Stanley's. He'd never seen it before. But he hadn't seen Stanley himself in a while. "Do we have a deal?" Cipher held the knife out in a threatening gesture, but Stanford wasn't too afraid. He needed most of everything for Cipher to get the most out of him. He shook his head, words not coming. His answer was the same - the new threats paled.

He flinched at the sudden sign of movement, but a moment later he realized - the knife sped towards Cipher. Towards Stanley. Towards his face - maybe even his eye - and Stanford choked on a gasp.

Cipher let up with a grin. Another few fakes jabs and Stanford got the picture. He found himself gripping his brother's arm to make him stop - the natural reaction to make Stanley desist.

But this wasn't Stanley.

Cipher threw him off, shoving him against the wall and into the ground. "Catching on yet? Ready for a sensible decision?"

Stanford stared at the floor. He had no choice. He couldn't - wouldn't let Cipher hurt his brother. His twin.

Not Stanley.

Stanford gritted his teeth, feeling it all tense in frustration. He gathered all his thoughts together, ready to deliver. When a chant echoed in the air. Stanford looked up and around, confused. He looked to Cipher, only to see him facing the side wall, expression twisting into anger.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

Stanford looked to where Cipher was looking, but all he saw was blank paint. Yet that chant rose in volume, growing more sure as it rattled off nonsense words. Except they weren't nonsense. They felt familiar.

Cipher stomped to his side and Stanford felt fingers latch on his throat. Suddenly he couldn't breathe. He scrambled to shove away the arms, getting his feet under himself to kick out, but his motions were too panicked by the unnatural experience of being unable to suck in air.

"Stop it! Stop it now! There won't be much more point in a just second!"

Stanford's thoughts tinted with fog. He tried to pull himself away, but his instincts weren't doing much else. The chant almost seemed to make the room spin with energy, but maybe it was him dying. He was dying. He couldn't breathe - he was going to die.

He felt his muscle's weaken. He stopped fighting, slipping beneath himself a little. The chanting stuttered against itself, then teetered off and the hands around Stanford's throat vanished. He could breathe. He could suddenly breath and he found himself gasping. Thoughts came back to him and he recognized the chanting voice as Stanley's. He recognized the words from his journal. He blinked open teary eyes to see an angry Cipher, stepping back from him, weak and bitter.

Without thinking he rasped out where he last remembered the chant left off. Cipher's gaze snapped onto him. Stanford fell back against the wall, but recited the words to the exorcism. He glared at the fury spilling out of those yellow eyes.

Cipher lunged forward and clocked Stanford against the jaw. He went sprawling. There was a loud shout of protest in the air and the chant picked up. Cipher doubled over in pain. Stanford pushed himself on elbows, wiping at his bloody lip, and echoed in sync with his brother. They made their way through whatever exorcism Stanley had chosen, watching as Cipher twisted in his newest form, gasping at some apparent pain. They watched the air above him distort as some visible effect of his actual shape was separated, a dark cloud forming above them. The chant came to a close and Stanford heard Stanley shout the last words with a crude insult tagged to the end.

There was a scream.

And then Stanford covered his eyes with the force of what came next, the black smoke plunging into the ground - swirling, twisting, and pounding with pressure as it all got pulled down, down, down - vanishing with a atmospheric pop not a few moments later. The room ran quiet, Stanley's body fell to the floor, haggard and limp.

Stanford forced himself to his feet and ran over.

"Stanley. Stanley - Lee, are you okay?" He was breathless, and his voice a scratchy, hoarse whisper, but he pulled Stanley up to see if he was hurt.

His brother groaned, shifting. Stanford visibly relaxed, relief washing over him. He watched Stanley's eyes flutter open, then squeeze shut with another groan. His brother sat up with his own strength, rubbing his face.

"Pestering you paid off," he muttered. He looked up and gave Stanford a weak grin.

Stanford choked. Stanley's grin slipped right before Stanford broke into sobs. He dipped his head into his arms, breathing ragged, his shoulders shaking under the force of it. Stanley looked at him, eyes wide. He moved to protect him with outstretched arms, holding his brother as he cried.

"They're dead," Stanford rasped. He clung to the last of his family, thinking about all the others. "He killed them. They're dead. They're all dead. Lee. Lee, they're dead." Tears streamed down his face.

Stanley held his brother closer, squeezing his own eyes shut. He didn't say anything, just let his brother cry.

"They're dead. They're all dead. Lee - They're all dead ... ,"

***

Here Now:

"EMPTY." Stanford shoved open the door to the back of their house. Stanley walked in after, staring at the floor, silent and brooding. "All of that and it's empty." Stanford made his way down the hall with a scowl. "What's he playing at?" He looked to his brother, hoping for an answer. Stanley glanced up, then shook his head and pushed past.

On the other side of the house, Dipper made his way down the stairs. In their room, Mabel shifted in her bed. She opened a sleepy eye toward's her brother's side, then blinked fast when she found it empty. She rubbed at her face, then looked again, confused.

The Stan twins stepped into the drawing room, one of them tossing the weapon onto the couch. It was almost two in the morning, and while neither were much put off by the late hour, they still felt drained from the false expectation. Dipper stepped into the room.

One of the older twins glanced over his shoulder.

"What are you doing up? Go back to bed." He turned with the frown expected from a guardian, only to stop. To come to a frozen halt as his muscles tensed. The other Stan noticed his brother and looked up too, confused. He stiffened.

Dipper grinned back at them with shinning, bright yellow eyes.

"Hey Pinesies."

That was all the twins needed to break them out of their shock. They both launched into a chant, blurting off an exorcism. Dipper's smile turned into a grimace, but before they could get very far he held up a boyish hand.

"Wait. Dump me now and you might never have a shot at killing me."

The Stans' words stuttered to a halt, realizing he was right. They shared a look, angry and uncertain. 

One of them stepped forward. "Get out of the boy Cipher." He fist was clenched as he threw out the demand. The other Stan stepped back and picked the gun off the couch. 

Cipher grinned. "Or what?"

The weapon hummed to life. Cipher glanced over, only to find himself staring down the head of a barrel. He swallowed, then broke into a grin. "Really?" He looked between the two. "In this body?"

There was a tense moment of silence. Then the gun was lifted. 

Cipher's grin widened. "So here's how this is going to go. You're going to hand me that equation, or I might just jump in front of a car. Understand?"

"Dipper?" Mabel's voice cut through the air. Both Stans looked to her in a panic.

"Mabel - go back upstairs."

"Leave - ,"

"Mabel! Sister!" Cipher turned on his heel and reached out, snatching up her wrist. "Come on in! Join us!"

Mabel looked into her brother's eyes and jerked back.  "What - ?"

"Cipher let them go." Stan stepped forward. His brother grabbed his wrist and held him back.

Cipher yanked Mabel forward and she twisted under his grip. "Grunkle Stans what's going on?"

"Just keep calm Mabel. Everything's going to be fine."

"Sure it is." Cipher glared at them. "Just so long as you give me what I want. Do you have any idea how LONG I've been waiting? Maybe let's hurry it up."

One of the older twins gritted his teeth and glared. "Never."

Cipher shrugged. "If you say so." He went to bend Mabel's wrist.

She yelped, then swung a fist and punched Dipper's arm - hard. He let go. "Ow! You little twerp!"

She shoved her brother to the ground and ran towards the Stans. "What's wrong with him?"

Stan pulled her closer, keeping an eye on Dipper's body. "It's Cipher. It's alright. We won't let anything happen to him."

Dipper pulled himself up and Mabel peered at his strange eyes. "Are you sure?"

The other Stan balled his hands into fists. "Plenty sure. Cipher - ," He stepped forward. "It's a deal."

His brother shot him a look and grabbed for his shoulder, yanking him around. "Don't you dare."

Cipher broke into an eerie fit of laughter. "Finally - someone with sense."

The Stans glared at each other.

"What are you doing?"

"Me for Dipper. The equation in my head - ," Stan turned to Cipher. "You have to leave him to get it."

His brother squeezed at his shoulder. "You can't."

The other shoved his hand off. He moved toward's Cipher and stretched out an arm. "Do we have a deal?"

Cipher cackled. "Sure thing Pines."

Stan dropped the gun in hand to the floor and moved to shake. He glanced over his shoulder at the other twin and they shared a look. 

"I said this ends - tonight."

Cipher gripped the six fingered hand and both grew suddenly still. Mabel and her Grunkle watched as some sort of distortion flickered above each of their siblings head before they both fell to the floor. Mabel shot forward. "Dipper!"

Dipper shifted, rousing. Mabel broke into a smile, glad to see him okay. Stan looked down at his brother, with Cipher inside. He stepped forward and swiped the gun off the floor.

Dipper blinked open his eyes and looked to his sister.

"Mabel?" He rubbed at an eye, then jumped up, more alert. "Cipher! I - Grunkle Stan! He - ," The twins pulled each other to their feet and looked towards Stan. He was standing over his brother's unconscious figure, the weapon hanging at his side. "What are you doing?" Dipper stared wide eyed. "That's the gun. What are you doing with the gun?"

Stan brought up his hand and twisted a knob. The weapon hummed to life.

"No!" Mabel moved to stop him, but Dipper held her back. "You can't! He's your brother! You can't!" She fought her own twin, pulling away till she let herself be kept in her brother's arms. Dipper and Mabel stared at Stan, their Grunkle's face expressionless.

Stan brought the barrel up to meet Cipher's new form. His hand squeezed around the hilt, clenching and unclenching in indecision ... 

His face finally broke, pained.

He was staring down one of the most evil creatures they'd ever encountered. The demon he'd been waiting to kill almost forty years. At the perfect mercy of the gun designed to end him. Bill Cipher.

Or his brother.

He gritted his teeth and let out a gasp. He brought up both hands to pull at his hair, water welling in eyes full of fury. His brother stirred, eyes blinking open yellow. They frowned, angry at being tricked.

"This isn't - !"

Stanford began the exorcism. Cipher's words drowned in his throat.

"You - ! Stanford! Don't, or you'll never - Ack!" He tried getting up, to throw himself at the Stan twin forcing him from his new form. Stanford shoved him back down, reciting the lines. Cipher's face contorted, and he doubled over in pain. Waves of distortion rippled around them as he began to be ripped from Stanley's body. Stanford said the last few words. There was a high pitched scream, separate from everything else, and Stanley fell back down unconscious while a dark cloud built along the ceiling.

Dipper and Mabel hugged each other close and watched as it swirled in an angry pattern. A spot on the floor turned burning coal red and the smoky cloud dived - pounding into the ground, sucking all the blackness with it. Everyone shielded their eyes, turning away from the pressure. It funneled down, down, down - till it dissipated with a pop.

Stanford was knocked to the ground and several objects fell off shelves. Dipper looked up.

The room was quiet. It was over.

Stanley stirred. He jerked up, eyes wide, looking around the room. He landed on his brother.

"Wha - ?" He pushed himself to sit up, frowning, confused. "Why am I - ?" His hands jumped to his chest and his head, surveying for damage. Stanford stood to his feet and stepped over to his brother, offering a hand. Stanley took it and pulled himself to his feet. "I'm still alive." He looked at Stanford's face, searching for some explanation. "You were supposed to shoot him. I thought you'd got that poindexter."

Stanford punched his arm.

"Lee - you knucklehead." He glared at Stanley. "Forty years. Did you really think - ? You're worth more than that piece of demonic hellfire ever could."

Stanley furrowed his brows.

The younger twins looked up at their Great Uncles. Dipper let out a heavy sigh and leaned against Mabel, tired. "About that bedtime thing ... ,"

***

The two Stans shifted between each other as they finished scooping eggs and sausage off pans and toasting bread for the younger twins. Dipper and Mabel sat at the table looking a little worse for wear but mostly awake.

The mysteries were solved. Cipher was gone. And now they had two Grunkles instead of one.

"But really," One of the Stans was buttering a piece of bread. He kept looking their way. The other one as well. In fact both Stans seemed uncomfortable being in the same room while other people were present. Dipper had already lost track of which was which. They both had on their gloves. They weren't like Dipper and Mable. Or even other twins. They'd spent a lifetime mastering how to mirror the other. "Our true identities really need to be kept secret. I have to insist you don't mention any of this to even your parents."

Mabel spun her fork against the table.

"But why not? Can't you tell anyone? Shouldn't you let others get to know you?"

The other Stan was sizzling the sausage.

"I don't expect either of you two to get it, but we didn't start pretending to be one person just for the heck of it. Believe it or not, our little situation has pretty much saved our lives - more than once."

Bread Stan moved on to jam.

"If this get's out, we lose the ability to be in two places at once. We lose the benefit of combining two men's strength, intelligence, and creativity into one. We lose a crucial element of surprise and advantage against any of our enemies and especially our allies. Telling other people isn't an option."

"No, I get that," Dipper said. "But ... it doesn't have to be everyone. Just ... ,"

"Just the important people," Mabel finished.

The Stans looked over at each other, then went back to their tasks. Sausage Stan moved on to the eggs, turning the burner down a notch.

"At any rate - Cipher ... he'll be back. Watch your dreams alright? Whoever summoned him this time, might do it again when they realize he's been exorcised. He could be back tomorrow, or in another forty years."

"Yes, and in the meantime," the other Stan grabbed out a few plates and started arranging everyone's food. "We should probably come up with another method of stopping him that isn't quite so ... lethal."

The other Stan grunted assent. They finished everything up and sat down with the younger twins, eating breakfast while they waited for their parents to pick them up. Mabel forked her eggs, but paused before she took a bite. She looked between the two Stans, thinking about how much nicer it was to know there were two. Even if they had been grumpy the last two days - but on threat of evil demon, so they had a pass, right?

"I mean it." She shoved her fork into her mouth. "You should tell the people that matter." Her words felt mushed against the mouth full of food, but she went on. "If you don't trust them, how can they ever trust you?"

"Don't speak with your mouth full, dear," One of the Stans said.

The other jammed his fork full and shoved it in his mouth.

"Whut, like dis?" He showed his brother a face full of food with a grin.

"Lee."

***

Soos stepped up to the house to see Wendy waiting outside. "Hey dude."

Wendy waved. "You too?" She checked her watch, then looked towards the door. "I'm only here 'cause - well ... ," She frowned then let out a sigh. "Actually. I don't know why I'm here. I don't know why I even try with him."

"He said - he needed to tell me something? You too?"

Wendy shrugged. "Yeah, basically." She checked her watch again, then looked out at the street. "All I really wanna hear is an 'I'm sorry,' and 'Here's you're raise.' For the both of us. You know?" She watched Soos come up the steps to stand level with her. She looked to the door. "Wishful thinking, am I right? He's got too much pride."

Soos shrugged. "Maybe he'll surprise us."

Wendy scoffed. "I doubt it."

***

Fiddleford needed to sit. He found himself blindly reaching out beneath him for a chair, and by miracles of miracles he found one. He couldn't keep his eyes off both Stans. He couldn't get over the sight of them both.

"You were right." Stanley - it was Stanley, of course it was, but Stanford was right by his side. "After forty years ... you deserved to know."

Fiddleford felt himself almost laugh at the absurdity, and he had to put a hand over his mouth. This wasn't funny. By any definition of the term. In fact, it was the farthest from it.

Stanford gestured to the door.

"That's all we wanted. I think it's time for you leave now."

Fiddleford looked to the door, feeling as if he couldn't even contemplate it's simple function as an exit. But the moment passed. He stood up and made his way to it. Both Stans watched him go. He gave them a last look over his shoulder, then paused, looking at the exit.

They were alive. They were both alive.

"If you want, we could meet up again - for a lunch maybe."

Fiddleford shot his eyes over to the Stans, but neither was looking at him. They'd turned to look at each other - glaring. One was angry the other had offered, the other angry at the other's anger. One hated the idea of being friends again, and the other not as much. But which had extended the invitation? Fiddleford frowned. He couldn't tell.

He swallowed hard, then turned to leave. He thought back to all those years ago when he'd first met the men. He'd had no idea what he'd just gotten himself into. He found himself regretting every instance after, and yet if he could go back and avoid meeting them to begin with?

He gave the twins one last glance, then walked out. He thought he'd take them up on the haphazard offer.

There was no doubt - the Pines were too interesting to avoid.