The meal would have been delicious, if anybody had had enough appetite to actually eat it. The most which had been done so far was Dipper picking up his fork and poking the moussaka [1] slightly with one of the prongs, but not actually lifting any of the mush to his lips. Wendy had, as always, jumped in at the right minute and had magically made the food appear out of nowhere, before setting off back home to help her father rebuild the house (a daily task).

Stan, feeling like a strict housewife for some reason, had insisted that everybody, that is all the family members and house guests, were to sit at the table, and if not eat, inform people who weren't already of the current situation. An exception had been made for Greg though, who was allowed to sit at a separate table where a shoe-box had been prepared for Jason Funderburker. The frog was still alive and breathing, but nowhere near as active as usual, and seemed to be immersed in a deep sleep.

All in all, the mood was pretty gloomy. Mabel didn't even bother drawing silly faces in her food, and the whole table was eerily silent, like after a funeral. Stan could not take it anymore. It was just too much; he needed to get some explanations, now.

"Right, I've had it, spit it out, all of you. What happened down in the basement, apart from the frog getting hurt? Why do you all look like you've eaten coffee omelette at Greasy's Diner?"

He regretted his words as soon as the oldest kid, the one which he had never seen without a frown gracing his features, looked up at him with eyes nearly overflowing with tears and the most miserable look on his face he had ever observed on a person that age. He was about to tell him all about it, and he was certain that the kid would not manage to get through it without sputtering and hiccupping his way through the tale, when Dipper's voice rang through the room.

"We had problems with a spirit which was haunting the frog, and we had to break the circle in which Wirt was so that it wouldn't get too much power. The spirit escaped, the frog nearly died, Wirt went to hell and back. That's all there is to know."

Stan stood stunned at these words, and looked at each of the kids in wonder. All this was way above him. He might have been able rebuild the portal and deal with various supernatural creatures while living in Gravity Falls, but as soon as he had come back from his expedition around the world with Ford, he had not wanted to set eyes on one of the weird things ever again, unless they were stuffed and mounted [2]. But these kids, they had gone through much more than he could ever imagine, be it willingly or not. He would have wanted to help them, protect them from these things, but he wouldn't have known how to if he had wanted. Except, maybe…

"Hey," he said, attracting everyone's stares. "What is the highest priority here? Fixing this frog, catching the spirit thing?"

Everyone gave him a blank look, but Ford leant a thoughtful chin on his six-fingered hand.

"If we catch the spirit, it'll probably help in reanimating the frog. It seems to have picked up a piece of its soul when it left its body, so maybe that would be the answer to its coma."

"All right. Dipper, Mabel, finish your meals and get to work looking for the thing. Search everywhere where it's likely to be: graveyards, the lake, anywhere where spirits normally hang out."

The energetic tone to his voice, the one he usually used when he needed work to be done in the gift shop or on the tours, had worked surprisingly well. Mabel perked up immediately and wolfed down her food, while Dipper snatched up two pieces of bread and crammed as much of the meal as he could in the makeshift sandwich [3]. Slightly disgusting, but effective.

He then turned to the two wretched brothers, and mentally cracked his knuckles in anticipation. The twins he knew, but it was going to be difficult to get these to do anything. Still, he liked a challenge.

"Wirt, right? Do you know this ghost thing? What's its name? What does it like? Come on, kid, spit it out! Can't you see that we're in a hurry?"

He blinked slightly, returning from his daydream, and looked a little panicked when he finally processed what was being asked of him. Good, that's what they needed.

"Er, Lorna, the spirit of the…"

"Not me! Tell Sixer over there, can't you see he's the expert?"

Indeed, he had already pulled a notebook out of his trench coat pocket, and had a pencil poised over the paper, waiting for any information that would come his way. Stan looked at him in satisfaction: his brother had always been quick to catch on.

Finally, he brought his attention back to the youngest of the small meeting. He had only unglued his eyes from his pet when Stan had started throwing his loud orders about, but then returned to staring at him. It was as if he hoped that he could transfer a little energy, a little life through his gaze alone. It really was heart-breaking to watch.

"Hey, kid, don't you want to help your big brother? Do you know anything that could help?" he asked, more softly then he had done with the others. He shook his head slightly, but apart from this didn't seem to register his presence.

"Well just stay there and tell us if anything happens, all right? We'll get your frog back in no time, don't worry," he added, feeling a little uncomfortable as he did so. He had never been good with children younger than the twins, particularly when they were dealing with a loss of some sort. He will keep an eye on him anyway, he thought; make sure he eats something and stays warm and stuff, while the other kid was occupied anyhow.

He turned back to the other side of the kitchen, which was now teeming with activity, eagerly voiced opinions and bits of information being thrown about. Mabel had disappeared, but he heard someone pounding up the unsafe stairs, and assumed that it was her getting backpacks and pieces of equipment together. Dipper had taken up Ford's task of questioning Wirt, who seemed more at ease with him rather than the older man. The paranormal specialist in question was pacing up and down the room, sometimes pausing to scribble on his notebook or to tell Dipper something of use in their expedition.

My work is over here, thought Stan, and he sat back down contently to finish off Wendy's wonderful dish.

"Wirt, do you want to come with us?"

The question brought him back to reality, a place he had not been very attached to as of late. He looked at Mabel, confused, and then caught sight of the bundle of equipment in her arms. A jumper with a dog on it, a backpack filled with unknown contents, and was that a grappling hook sticking out from the front pocket?

"Well, erm, maybe? I…"

"Please, this is important. You can stay here and look after Greg, or you could come with us and help out, but you can't just drift around aimlessly. It's not healthy, you need something to keep your mind away from what happened earlier on and concentrate on the present."

He had to admit that it would be nice to get away from the terrifying images in his brain right now, but he felt so tired. He didn't think he could sleep either, but if he had to choose, he would rather stay and make sure that his brother was safe. If something happened to him while he was out hunting monsters he wasn't even sure were there, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. He already had enough problems doing so from his trip in the Unknown, let alone today's events.

"Greg needs me right now. I'm sorry, Mabel, but could you lend me a book? It's the best thing I can do to keep myself active right now."

She nodded, accepting his decision even though she didn't agree with it. She was the kind of person who needed physical exercise when this sort of thing happened, a bit like her brother, and she couldn't quite understand people who didn't work the same way as she did. No matter, she thought, she'll voice her discontent her own way.

"No preferences?" she asked, a hint of an evil grin on her lips.

"What?" answered Wirt, who had drifted off again.

"I asked you whether you had a preference book-wise."

"Erm… no, whatever you think is good."

She went up the stairs again, stifling a giggle. It is mean to play such a dirty trick on him in the state that he is, a voice in her head tried to reason, but another one, who was unfortunately much louder than the first, said: doitdoitit'llbesofunnydoit.

So, powered by concentrated mischief, she tore a paperback from under her mattress, ran back to the ground floor, slammed the book face down on the kitchen table and just as swiftly exited the house behind her great-uncle and brother.

Wirt was slightly confused by the whole process, sitting where he had been earlier on this morning, with only Greg and the inert frog in the room for company. He picked up the book, and took a few seconds to register the cover before putting it back down slowly and with a deep blush on his cheeks.

He understood now.

The book was "Wolfman Bare Chest".