Chapter Text
I knew Gravity Falls was home to creatures from myth and legend, as well as many more that I cannot find references to in any folklore. But I had yet to find any evidence of werewolves. Imagine my delight when, last night, I heard howling off in the distance. It gradually grew louder until it sounded as though it was right outside my door. I jumped out of bed and sprinted to the window, where I witnessed a pack of wolves racing across my backyard. At first, they seemed to be regular wolves, but then I noticed a faint shimmer around their bodies. It looked similar to the aura I have seen with fairies.
I watched them run past, unable to do anything but admire their majesty. Luckily, despite the claims of popular culture, there are three days of a full moon, not one. Unluckily, last night was the last night of the full moon until next month.
But it gives me plenty of time to prepare.
Another full moon has come and passed. During the past month, I temporarily switched my focus to werewolves. Due to how they are represented in popular culture, they tend to be particularly wary of others. I knew I would need to forgo my other research if I wished to successfully find the pack’s den.
A task that I, naturally, managed to accomplish.
I was positive I had found the right cave, given the fur, footprints, and bones in the area. However, there was no evidence of anyone currently staying there. I deduced from this information that the members of the pack likely have regular human lives during the rest of the lunar cycle.
I will have to return during the next full moon.
Success!
Another full moon has come, and finally, I have been able to observe the werewolves up close. Before night fell, I hid myself among bushes near the cave. Thankfully, the bushes produce a rather rancid-smelling fruit, thus obscuring my scent from the werewolves.
When the full moon rose in a darkened sky, the wolves left the cave. I thought it was all of them, but soon heard soft yelps and whines from the cave. Sounds I would associate with puppies. I emerged from the bushes and approached the cave. Inside, I could see a lone male tending to a small group of pups. Based upon the male’s coloration, he was an adult, though he was the size of an adolescent. He was also significantly thinner than the others. I wonder if he may not have been born in this pack, but rather came to join it after spending time on his own. Perhaps due to his previous pack being massacred.
(Despite what people think, werewolf hunters are no less active than they were hundreds of years ago.)
Regardless, the male noticed me while I was watching. I prepared to run, but he didn’t attack. He merely placed himself between the puppies and me. And watched. Much like I was doing.
I wonder if I will see him again tomorrow when I return.
I returned to the cave before moonrise, hoping to beat the wolves there. I did not succeed. Despite the moon not yet in the sky, the cave was full of werewolves consuming a fresh kill. From this, I can conclude that this variant of werewolves will remain in their animalistic form throughout the three days of the full moon.
As I watched, my hiding place much more carefully chosen due to the large number of wolves in the cave, I noticed the male that had supervised the pups last night. He was the last to be allowed to eat, even after the pups.
The other adults almost completely refused to interact much with him. Most of his social communication appeared to be with the pups.
Is there something wrong with him?
I was spotted tonight.
The male from before saw me first. Another wolf noticed he was watching something and followed his gaze. Soon, the entire pack had seen me.
Thankfully, they didn’t attack. Like the male on the first night, they just watched. At first.
The male attempted to walk over to me, but only got a few steps out of the cave before a larger wolf growled at him. He went back to the cave with his tail between his legs.
This was the tipping point for the pack’s patience, unfortunately. They all began to growl at me, a warning I heeded.
As such, I am back home earlier than I have been the last few nights.
I can’t stop thinking about the male that the rest of the pack seems to hold at arm’s length. There must be some reason they dislike him. But what?
I’ve done it!
After months of hard work, I finally gained the trust of the male. He seems to be very food-motivated. Likely because he has to eat the scraps for every meal.
Using much patience and many rotisserie chickens, I got the male to approach me without fear and even follow me to my home. Of course, he returned to the pack before sunrise every time, stymieing my goal of seeing his human form.
Until now.
With some assistance from local lumberjacks, I set up a dog run with everything a large dog (or small wolf) could need inside. I lured the male to my home and waited for him to inspect the run. Once he was in, it was a simple matter of closing and locking the door.
I worried at first that I had put a target on my back. That the rest of his pack would come after me to rescue him. My research indicates werewolves are incredibly protective of their pack members.
However, nothing happened.
The male has been waiting for three nights, howling at the moon with no response from his pack. During the day he hides in the dog house, unwilling to let me see him.
To be quite honest, it saddens me.
Thankfully, the sun will rise soon, granting him human form. I can get some answers.
And perhaps suggest he find a new pack. This one clearly doesn’t care about him.
The first rays of sun trickled through the window in Ford’s study as he finished the latest entry in his research journal.
Eager to see his werewolf in human form, he jumped to his feet and hurried outside. While most of the werewolf was hidden inside the massive dog house, a lone human arm stuck out of it.
Ford’s heart began to race. He unlocked the door and opened it. At the creaking sound, the very human, very loud snoring from the dog house stopped.
“Hello?” Ford called as he approached the dog house. “Whoever is in there, I would like to speak with you.” There was a shuffling sound. After several agonizing minutes, the rest of the werewolf finally exited. He blinked up at the sun, eyes adjusting to the light.
Eyes Ford recognized.
They were the same as his, after all.
Ford’s research journal tumbled from his hand, landing on the grass.
“Stanley?” he choked out. His estranged twin, fully nude, stood before him.
Stan looked at the dog house like he was tempted to go back inside.
“What- what are you- how-” Ford stammered. Stan anxiously avoided eye contact with him, something that seemed out of character for Ford’s bold brother.
But perhaps not out of character for a wolf ranked below even a newborn pup.
“What the hell, Stan?” Ford finally burst out. Stan cowered, actually cowered at the outburst. His eyes darted from side to side as though he was looking for an escape route. “What happened to you? How are you-” Ford couldn’t come up with anything else to ask. Too many questions were demanding to be let out.
But even if he could choose one to ask, the motivation to do so was fading at the look of fear on Stan’s face.
Ford took a step back.
Stan visibly relaxed.
Ford filed away that observation for later. He cleared his throat.
“I need answers, Stan.”
“I can’t tell you anything,” Stan said quietly.
“Why?”
“The- the pack wouldn’t be happy.”
“And why do you care about what the pack wants?”
“It’s my pack,” Stan said firmly.
“Are they?” Ford asked pointedly. Stan flinched. “For three nights, not a single soul responded to your cries for help. If they truly considered you part of their pack, they would have rescued you. Do you really think they deserve your loyalty?” Stan looked down at the ground, his hands clenched into fists.
A long moment passed.
Finally, Stan looked up.
“Give me some clothes and food,” he said, “and I’ll tell you everything.”
“Deal.”
Stan certainly ate like a wolf.
The sandwich Ford had quickly constructed for his twin disappeared in record time, along with any crumbs still on the plate. A second sandwich met the same fate.
“Before you eat more, I’d like those answers I was promised,” Ford said. Stan leaned back in his chair. The clothes borrowed from Ford were large on him, thanks to his thinner frame. While Stan wasn’t quite underweight, he was much scrawnier than the last time Ford had seen him. Which lined up with how small the male wolf had been.
And there was something else about Stan’s appearance that was bothering Ford. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. He dismissed it. There were more pressing matters he wanted to give his focus to.
“I should probably let that stuff sit a bit anyways,” Stan said with a casual tone. A tone that Ford could see right through.
He pretended he didn’t.
“Okay, whattaya wanna know?” Stan asked.
“Everything.”
“You gotta give me a place to start.”
“The beginning, then,” Ford said. “How did you become a werewolf?” A shadow crossed Stan’s face.
“I had a buddy. Jimmy. He had this great idea that I could join his pack if he turned me. I agreed. It’d be some stability. Haven’t had a lot of that since...” Stan sighed. “But it turns out, natural-born werewolves pretty much hate anyone who was human and got turned. Jimmy’s pack wouldn’t let me join. And Jimmy didn’t want to leave his pack. So he left me.”
“Just like that?” Ford asked quietly. Stan shrugged.
“Can’t blame him. He was just doing what a wolf does. Taking care of himself.” The words were hollow, though, matching the empty look in Stan’s eyes. The betrayal cut deeper than he was willing to admit. “I spent a long- some time on my own. But...” Stan drummed his fingers on the table and looked away. “Werewolves aren’t supposed to be alone. It’s some sorta magic bullshit I guess? When a werewolf doesn’t have a pack, they- they don’t do too well.”
“I take it that’s why you’re-” Ford started. Stan shot him a glare. Ford swallowed the rest of the question. Stan was doing an excellent job acting casual, but he knew his twin. He was one poorly phrased question away from bolting into the woods, rejoining a pack that treated him like dirt.
And, regardless of their past, Ford didn’t want that for him.
“I’m fine now,” Stan said flatly. “I need to rebuild some muscle, but I’m not- I’m not sick anymore.”
Sick. Being alone makes werewolves physically ill. Ford nodded silently and moved on to his next question.
“If werewolves are opposed to former humans, how did you wind up in a pack?”
“The current alpha, his grandparent was a former human. He’s got a soft spot for people like me, I guess.”
“I see.” Ford tried to keep his tone mild, but the ability to see through lies went both ways. Stan tensed.
“He’s not-” Stan grunted in frustration. “He can’t hold my hand, or whatever. Wolves take care of each other, but they also- there aren’t any handouts, okay? The pack, they- they won’t let me starve, but if I wanna go up the ladder, I’ve gotta prove I deserve it. I don’t have enough muscle yet to do that, but I’ll get there.” Ford nodded silently. “Next month, I’ll start picking fights, and I’ll stop being at the bottom of the damn tower.”
“You plan on returning to them?”
“Yeah?” Stan’s anger was replaced by genuine confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Outside-”
“I was hungry,” Stan said dismissively. “People say stuff they don’t mean all the time when they’re hungry.”
“Of course.”
“When I get out of the bottom, though, I’m gonna miss the pups,” Stan sighed. “Only the bottom of the bottom takes care of them.” He smiled faintly. “They don’t care that I used to be human.”
“I noticed that you seemed to be the designated babysitter during full moons.”
“Not just full moons. All the time. Technically, I should be at Hank and Alicia’s place right now. That’s where the pups are this week.”
“Wait.” Ford leaned forward. Stan leaned back with a wary look. “You babysit the pups even when the pack is in human form?”
“Someone’s gotta watch ‘em. Everyone else has a human job. I don’t. So I do the babysitting.”
“Why don’t you have a human job? Don’t you need a paycheck to live somewhere?” Ford asked. A heavy dread was twisting in his gut, growing stronger with everything Stan told him.
“I don’t have a house or apartment or whatever. I stay with the pups.” Stan’s tone suggested what he was saying was logical, but the flighty look in his eyes betrayed his true emotions.
“But everyone else has their own place,” Ford said. Stan nodded. “And a human job.” Stan nodded again. “Why don’t you?”
The anxious look in Stan’s eyes turned to full-blown panic.
“Because I- I watch the pups. That’s what I- it’s my job. I don’t need a place ‘cause I just stay with them.”
“Do you want to be the babysitter?” Ford pried. Stan didn’t answer. “Then why-”
“The pups like me. They behave better for me than anyone else.”
Ford leaned back, his mind racing. Stan continued to ramble about how everyone in the pack had a role to fill, and this was his. That if he wanted to stay, he couldn’t do anything but follow the pups and watch them.
Any lingering anger at Stan for what had happened as teenagers was swallowed by a deep fear for his twin’s safety.
Right now, they let him live with them, let him eat. In exchange for him giving up any semblance of a personal life. But when the current alpha, the one that let him join the pack, perished? What would happen then? What would Stan do to stay with the pack, to keep himself from literally dying of loneliness?
Ford didn’t know. But he did know one thing.
“You can’t go back,” he said quietly. Stan stopped mid-sentence.
“I have to.”
“You can’t,” Ford insisted. Stan let out a soft growl, baring teeth that looked sharper than they should.
“I have to,” he ground out. “Didn’t you listen? A wolf needs a pack. Or it’ll die.”
“You wouldn’t be on your own,” Ford said. He wasn’t thinking about the implications of what he was saying, he was just trying to find some way to keep his brother safe. “You’d be here.” Stan stared at him.
“Are you- are you offering for me to move in with you?” he asked.
“I suppose I am,” Ford said, as surprised as Stan.
“I don’t need charity,” Stan spat, even though it wasn’t even close to true.
“It wouldn’t be charity. I could use some assistance with my research. You’d work for me.” Stan chewed on his lip. He was actually considering it?
Of course he was. Stan didn’t want to be in the pack. He just didn’t want to be sick again.
Physically ill with loneliness.
“I need a pack,” Stan said. His fingers twitched hesitantly. Uncertainly. Ford’s stomach churned at the visible anxiety now in his previously fearless twin.
“I can be your new pack.”
“A two-person pack? And one of the two people is a human?” Stan scoffed. Ford frowned.
“Will it be inadequate?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” Stan’s gaze dropped to his empty plate. “The pack didn’t really tell me much about how werewolves work.”
Likely to keep him complying with their demands.
“I...” Stan scowled at his plate. “I don’t wanna go back to that pack,” he croaked. He cringed, as though bracing himself for a blow. When nothing happened, he relaxed and met Ford’s eyes. “I guess we’ll see if your crazy idea works.”
“If it doesn’t, we’ll find you a new pack,” Ford said.
“How? It took forever for me to find one that would let me join.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. After all, my plan will work.”
“I like that confidence. Wish I had it.” At Ford’s look, Stan bristled. “Things just don’t go right for me, okay? They never have. I don’t see why that would change now.” An awkward silence fell. Ford broke it with a cleared throat.
“I can show you the room you’ll be staying in during your time as a human.”
“And when I’m a wolf?”
“Ah. Yes.” Ford looked out at the window at the dog run. “We can discuss ways to make those accommodations more comfortable.” He stood up. Stan stood as well.
“You- you can show me the room after I get back. I have to tell the pack I’m leaving.”
“Do you?” Ford asked, concerned. He didn’t want the pack to pull Stan back in. Stan shook his head.
“Probably not.”
“Then don’t go.”
“I wanna get my stuff. I don’t have a lot, but that doesn’t mean I’m fine with them destroying it.” Stan managed a weak smile. “Be back in an hour.”
To Ford’s relief, Stan was indeed back within an hour of his departure, the duffle bag from their teenage years slung over one shoulder.
“Breaking off from the pack went well, I take it?” Ford asked. Stan shrugged.
“No one was at the storage unit today. I left a note and grabbed my stuff.”
“Should we worry about them coming after you, now that you’ve left a note formally cutting ties with them?” Ford asked. Stan shrugged again.
“No idea.”
“...Very well.” Ford stood to the side so Stan could come in. “After you drop your things off in your room, we can discuss your role in my work.”
“Yeah, uh, what exactly do you do?” Stan asked as he walked in. He raised an eyebrow. “Other than trap werewolves in your spare time.”
“That was actually part of my research,” Ford said brightly, closing the door. “I study supernatural and paranormal phenomena, such as werewolves.” Stan’s jaw dropped.
“You’re the guy the pack talked about.”
“I have a reputation amongst the local werewolves?”
“It’s- it’s not good.”
“I see. Not to worry, I have rather thick skin.” Ford frowned. The feeling from before, that there was something peculiar about Stan, was back. And now that he wasn’t focused on learning how Stan had become a werewolf, he could try to figure out what it was.
It took mere moments for Ford’s eyes to widen in realization.
“What? Do I got something on my face?” Stan asked.
“Are you shorter?” Ford asked bluntly. Stan’s face turned bright red. “You are!”
“I told you, being a lone wolf messed me up.”
“You claimed you were fully recovered.”
“Some stuff sticks around, I guess. At least I didn’t shrink too much.”
“I’m not sure about that.” Ford rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll need to get a tape measure, but it appears you’ve lost at least three inches.” Stan’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.
“You’re shitting me.”
“Honestly, that’s a rather conservative estimate.” Ford clapped a hand on Stan’s back. “I’ll show you to your room and then we can determine just how short you’ve become.”
“Fucking...” Stan sighed. “That’s news I’m only gonna accept after I shower.” Ford took in Stan’s appearance, his unkempt hair and dirt-covered hands and feet. He wasn’t much cleaner under the borrowed clothes, which Ford now realized were too large due to both his thinness and his new height.
Ford nodded slightly.
“Fair enough.”
An hour later, a voice shouted within the cabin, loud enough to be heard outside.
“You’re lying, I am not six inches shorter!”