Yeah, so this is a prequel to Fallen Dream. A bit of a mini project because I just wanted to explain how the Stan twins reconciled. This is probably going to be several chapters long, followed by a few one-to-two-shots about events afterwards. Enjoy.
Oh, and just to warn you, this first story contains alcohol and swearing. No slash, though; just brotherly love.
Prologue – Something's Wrong
Stanley frowned as he observed the security tapes of last night's activity for the second time that evening. Nothing; not even the slightest whisper or most miniscule flicker of light; sounded in the room where the vending machine was situated. He fast-forwarded it to the next hour, his eyes locked on the entrance to the basement. Still, nothing was disturbed.
That's the fourth night in a row, Stanley thought worriedly. He hasn't come out except to grab coffee in the mornings, and then there was that little outing a few days before. Something's wrong.
Sighing, he switched off the monitor and pulled out the tape before joining Dipper and Mabel in the living room for their regular Friday night TV dinners. The younger Pines twins had already picked out a show, and were currently watching a bad horror comedy movie and laughing at the lame special effects.
He grimaced as he forced down another sip of the bitter liquid in his mug. It tasted vile, but he supposed that was his fault, seeing as how he'd neglected to add milk to it, and he'd also let it get cold hours ago. Or at least he assumed it was hours ago. It was impossible to keep track of time down here, especially since his clock was broken. Oh, god, he felt so tired. When was the last time he slept? Perhaps he could just-.
No!
The moment he felt his eyelids drooping, the paranoid, fearful voice in his head yelled at him to stay awake, and he jolted back into reality. It didn't make him feel any less exhausted, though. His eyes itched horribly, and his head throbbed immensely; making it impossible to think clearly. A sickening, cavernous hunger gnawed ravenously at his insides, and his mouth and throat felt desolately dry.
You need to stay awake, insisted the jittery, caffeine-fuelled part of him that was always suspicious of something attacking him. You need to get the job done.
Yes… yes, he had to keep on working. Something still could have followed him through to portal, and for all he knew, it could be waiting for him to drop his guard so that it could sneak out of the lab and wreak havoc outside.
A hoarse moan rasped out of his throat as he buried his face in his hands in despair. Why was he so exhausted? He had to work, so why was fatigue so insistent on dragging him into the depths of sleep? Urgh, he… he needed another drink.
No, you don't, fought back another, more resigned voice in his mind. You need to rest.
Ignoring the voice of reason, he reached out and grasped the half-empty bottle that was on his desk and took a heavy swig from it. It wasn't even a moment later before a mind-numbing fuzziness replaced all feeling of his ailments.
Time to get back to work.