So I got a prompt on my tumblr ( You should totally come visit me) That simply said: 'kill stan pls.' and so I did exactly that.
So enjoy, and as always, please review!
It had been a hard day. Pulled from one world that he'd been forced into a mere thirty years ago to another tended to have negative effects on one's emotions. Especially if the person who he believed had thrown him in there in the first place was the first he had seen upon returning.
A brief fight and several heated arguments later, Stanford determined that his brother would never be forgiven for what he had done. Never.
"Ok, Stanley, here's the deal. You can stay here for the summer to watch the kids. I'll stay down in the basement and try to contain any remaining damage. But when the summer's over; you give me my house back, you give me my name back, and this 'Mystery Shack' junk is over forever. You got it?"
As he had settled in for a much needed rest, those bitter feelings had swelled almost painfully inside of him, and the gradual slip into sleep was a relief that couldn't come faster.
But the nagging concern that something was wrong dragged him kicking and screaming back into consciousness at what seemed like only a few seconds later.
He woke to the smell of burning cardboard, paper, and glue. Suspicion didn't set in until he had rolled over slightly, eyes scrunched closed in an attempt to go back to sleep, and realized that the pressure on his chest where the journals had been was gone.
It couldn't be.
Wordlessly, he scrambled from his place on the couch and dashed for his brother's room, trying to settle the panic rising in his throat, "STANLEY?" He kicked the door open and stared in at the man hunched near the wood stove, in the act of dropping one of the books he'd spent ten years writing into the flames.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU IDIOT?!" He wheezed, clutching onto the doorframe. There wasn't even a point in trying to save those precious books now; he could feel the heat of the fire from here. They had been incinerated as soon as they had touched it.
Stanley remained motionless save for his hands, which slowly folded behind his back.
A white hot rage was building up inside of Ford, mixed mainly with confusion. Before he knew what had happened, the gap between them had been closed and his fist had viciously connected with the side of the other's head for the second time that day, "ANSWER ME!"
Stanley jerked as he stumbled sideways, catching himself on one knee before he could completely go down. He then reached up and pressed a hand to his face.
But still he wasn't speaking. No matter how pointless an apology would be at this point, Ford almost wanted to hear one, or even an explanation at that. He gulped another breath and attempted to speak clearly, "You haven't changed a bit, have you? Selfishly acting on emotional impulses, and this is why I'm not going to let you stay here! I don't know why you did this, but if you think there's any chance of me forgiving you now, there's not. I will never."
His arms were shaking; ready to get another shot in as he watched for a response of some kind, but no. Silence reigned for only a second before he lunged forward and roughly clutched the front of the man's shirt, dragging him back up to his level, "Talk to me, you worthless-"
But just as quickly as he had picked him up, he let go again, legs fumbling to put a distance between them.
His brother stood and watched him,a twisted grin stretching up a face now illuminated with the pale yellow coming from his eyes, pupils long and slit. He carefully stretched his neck back and winked, "Now what's got you so startled, pal?"
"B-bill?" He stuttered in disbelief, "How did you…?"
"Y'know, it's funny." He strode sideways, watching with satisfaction as he was warily avoided, "I spend all summer trying to prevent anyone from getting close to any major answers, and then you happen. Not like you'll be able to do much when the mud hits the fan, but the Pines household is getting' a little too crowded for my taste…" Tilting to a side, he watched him from the corners of his eyes inquiringly.
Ford stared vaguely for a moment, what the demon had said catching up to him, before he gave a dry scoff, "So you possessed that knucklehead's body so you could kill me? Not gonna happen; I'm too valuable an asset to this planet's survival and if you think I'm going to go down without a fight…" He trailed off when that cold laughter filled the room.
"Oh, Stanford, it's always gotta be about YOU, doesn't it?"
A beat, "What do you-"
"You see this?" He pulled from his coat pocket a hand gun that glistened in the light of the flames.
Instantly, Ford reached over his shoulders and yanked out his own weapon, brandishing it as a warning at the other, "Put that away!"
Bill chuckled darkly, shaking his head, "What are you going to do, shoot me?Didn't think so. Now listen up; this gun was in his hand when I took over his body. All loaded up and ready to go, too."
Lowering his arms, Stanford tightened his jaw, eyebrows threading together in understanding.
"It woulda been a shame to let a good vessel go to waste without using it for something," He gestured at the fire loosely, "It's funny how different you people think and behave when you're…emotional. So we had a little chat, I twisted some truths, made a deal, and here we are!" Waving both arms open wide, Bill lowered his head, "But what are you worried about? It isn't like you'd care if something were to happen to him."
"You dare to tell me that I wouldn't care if something happened to my own brother?!" He stammered, wondering just how true that statement had been.
"Hey, I'm just the parrot here; those were his words, not mine!"
Ford clenched his fists together, reminded of the intense bickering between them earlier, "Fine, try to shoot me; I've been dodging bullets for years."
His grin was becoming unnervingly wider and wider, "You still don't get it! Who spent thirty years in this place while the other only spent ten? Who flushed their life down a drain to get an ungrateful sibling back? Who learned to avoid the detection of the most dangerous humans around to start that portal back up?" He folded his arms, "The same one who lost all senses and stupidly gave me his body. He's more of a threat to me than you'll ever be so if you'll excuse me…"
In a sudden rush, Ford sprang for his brother, aiming to tackle the weapon from his hands, but in the same motion, the metallic handle was slammed across his face, sending him sprawling sideways. Ignoring the stinging pain in his jaw, he propped himself up with his arm and looked back, eyes wide, "No! Stanley, I didn't mean what I said; I-I'm sorry!"
"Too little too late, Pines." Using the barrel to first knock the fez off his head, Bill pressed it into his temple and theatrically waved an arm to the sky, "And so, hats off to the end of the show for Mr. Mystery, " He sneered down at him, "the most worthless man on Earth!"
Before he could even reach out, Ford was forced to recoil at the resounding 'BANG' that split through the small room. One second, two seconds, then the dull crumbling thud of a body hitting the floor. It was over.
He couldn't cry, couldn't gasp…couldn't even breathe. He just sat there, staring blankly at the fez that had rolled to his side. His entire body was trembling uncontrollably as he stretched an arm out to it, and then let his hand fall limply on the top, indenting it slightly.
Then, hesitantly, his eyes wandered to the lifeless form on the ground only a few precious feet away, a delicate lace of smoke drifting from the gun to the ceiling almost…peacefully. The warmth and light of the fire was dying out quickly as its contents dwindled, but he strained to watch the darkening scene; to try to comprehend what never could be fixed.
Bill was wrong.
The show his brother had been leading would go on, but it would definitely never be the same.