Stanford smiled down at the crib and wiggled his six fingers at the babies snuggled in togas and a blanket made of silk. The girl, Mabel, giggled, her laughter like soft bells, while the boy, Mason, stared with eyes sparkling with admiration. Stanford's chuckle was low and warm, full of love, and he had mastered the art of scooping both babies into his arms swiftly at the same time, cradling each twin in a strong, soft arm, so neither would feel left out or abandoned.

The small amount of pain in the god's heart was overshadowed by joy and love for his grandniece and nephew. They were the only family he had now, due to circumstances mostly out of his control, a feeling gods rarely felt and were uncomfortable with. So rather than dwell on this, Stanford chose to channel his thoughts onto his children as he looked forward to raising them as his own.

The open ballroom was filled to the brim with gods and goddesses who had come to welcome the babies, currently dancing and singing along with the muses who provided music. Mabel bounced in Stanford's hold, eager to dance and sing and play, while Mason held onto Stanford's toga a little tighter. The god of Intelligence and Ingenuity smiled and gave his grandnephew a small squeeze of reassurance that he was right there for him.

One god ran through the crowd, bumping into people accidentally with his glasses skewed, but he soon emerged, panting and slouched forward before brightening up like a sunflower in the light. Fiddleford, the god of Inspiration, Motivation, and the Messenger of the gods (and god of creative swears, but no one talks about that), fixed his small glasses and greeted his partner with a warm grin. Something seemed a little different about Stanford, but Fiddleford ignored it to focus on more important matters.

"Fiddleford! You made it!" Stanford gently laid the twins down and hugged him, a bit uncharacteristic for him, but Fiddleford was happy nonetheless.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world!" He replied with a pat on Stanford's back and they both looked down at the babies, who were observing the stranger, one with delight and one with slight confusion. "How beautiful." He awed and waved at the new gods. "What're their names?"

"Mason and Mabel."

"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. Oh, what's that on Mason's forehead?" Fiddleford asked and reached a hand to gently wipe the baby's forehead, thinking it was a thread or something, but Stanford gently grabbed his wrist and said firmly,

"Nothing worth mentioning."

Fiddleford swallowed, his eyes glancing down at the six fingers that stopped him, and he nodded in understanding. Clearly Stanford didn't want unimportant differences to be accidentally weaponized against his nephew, or his niece for that matter.

"Oh! Almost forgot." Fiddleford reached into his endless satchel and pulled out a large bouquet of flowers and herbs. "For ya, my friend. Welcome t'the Dad Club!"

Stanford's cheeks and ears turned pinkish as he accepted the bouquet. "Thank you, but I'm not a father…"

"Aw, hush, you're as good as!" Fiddleford swatted his friend's statement away. "And I brought my gifts for the wittle ones, too." The skinny god reached into his satchel again and this time pulled out two metals with a lightning bolt hanging over a mountain, a field, and the sea. On the back, one read "Mabel" and one read "Mason" with a snap of Fiddleford's fingers, having a bit of skill with metal. "There we are."

"Thank you, buddy, they're perfect." Stanford watched as Fiddleford draped them around each baby's neck. He was a bit worried of the necklaces choking the babies, but he swallowed his worry. They were gods, for crying out loud. What could ever happen to them?

Mabel instantly grabbed her metal and began to gnaw on it. Mason saw this and gave it a try, and then got excited and teethed far more vigorously. Stanford laughed and gently prided the gifts out of their gums, tickling their ribs and smiling as the babies cooed and laughed and grabbed his twelve fingers lovingly.

Fiddleford smiled and finally pinpointed what was so different about his old friend; he was the happiest Fiddleford had seen him in a long, long time.

"So, what gift will ya give 'em, Fordsie?" Fiddleford asked casually.

Stanford prided his hands away from the babies as he smiled at them. "I have just the thing for them. They're already so characteristic and different." Stanford clapped his hands together and in a small cloud of lightning, a music box teleported into his palm, a gift he had crafted carefully well into the night. "For Mabel, something to soothe her far better than my lousy voice."

Fiddleford rolled his eyes, an argument against the harsh statement on his lips, but he bit it back as he watched Stanford open the little chest and wind it, a tiny sailboat on a wave out at sea, rocking to the soft lullaby. Mabel and Mason's soft brown eyes grew wide with admiration and Mabel reached up her chubby arms for the gift, giggling at the music. Stanford chuckled and placed it by the crib so the twins could watch the ship sail. While it may have been for Mabel, he was glad both of his children could enjoy it.

"And for Mason," Stanford clapped his hands again, another cloud of lightning appeared between his hands as he pulled them apart, and a blue book decorated with a golden forest laid in his palm, thick but empty and ready to be filled with knowledge. "I'm afraid this one will have to wait until he is a little older, but it will help him to have somewhere to put his many thoughts."

Mason's eyes sparkled like stars and he clenched his tiny hands for it. Stanford laughed and played along, giving it to the baby to see what he would do, and the men were amused when Mason snuggled with it like it was a stuffed toy and Mabel ran her little fingers over the golden forest, finding it pretty and appealing to the eye.

The music box was still playing, slowly making the twins tired. With a sleeping Mason on top of the journal and Mabel snuggling with her brother, Stanford tucked their blanket in to keep them warm and comforted, and even kissed each baby on the cheek to wish them a peaceful slumber. And no, Fiddleford was not crying behind his friend.

"How sentimental." A voice said from the opposite side of the vast room, and yet everyone heard it and fell silent and looked at the direction the chilly tone came from.

The gods came in many different shapes and sizes, but this god was the farthest from a human-like appearance than any other, a golden triangle with a black toga over his shoulder, the strange god floating so though he was the size of most heads, he was eye-level. That eye, that single eye, was cold and yellow with a slitted pupil, like a cat. And yet, Stanford grinned at the sight of him.

Bill, Master of the Mind and Ruler of the Underworld, as appointed by Stanford long ago, was not oblivious to the cold greeting and asked, "Yeesh, this an audience or a mosaic?"

"Bill, my friend, you finally made it." Stanford greeted warmly as the triangle floated to him and managed to put on an eye that wrinkled in a half-convincing smile. "How is the Underworld?"

"Eh, you know, a little dark, a little gloomy," Bill answered, tilting his hand back and forth in a so-and-so way. "And as always, full of dead people, whatcha gonna do? Ah, those the little knuckleheads? How cute." Bill swiftly past Fiddleford, who seemed to have been standing in front of the crib, and the triangle floated over the sleeping babies, creating a change in lighting with a dark shadow over them.

Mabel and Mason stirred and Stanford smiled at his close friend and newest (and only) family members meeting. Both of the babies stared at Bill with wide eyes and blank expressions. Fiddleford read their expressions as fearful; Stanford read their expressions as surprised.

"Hm, they're strong, like their great-uncle." Bill observed, his eye peering at them deeply. "Powerful little tykes."

"You really think so?" Stanford said optimistically as he stood by his friend's side, smiling down at the babies.

"Oh, you bet. Heck, these guys one day could take on the greatest monsters the world as ever known." Bill said, a master at hiding his bitterness at the back of his throat.

"Now, why don't you grab some wine? Best there is! Join the celebration, live a little." Stanford offered, gently elbowing the triangle, who drifted a few inches away as he chuckled coldly.

"Love to, babe, but unlike you other gods lounging around up here, I regretfully have a full time gig I gotta attend to. Can't. Love to, but can't." Bill sneered and turned to leave.

"Good riddance." Fiddleford mumbled under his breath, back in front of the crib with his feet firmly on the clouds, determined not to leave the twins' side again.

"Really, Bill, you should slow down," Stanford advised friendly. "You'll work yourself to death." The god paused as Fiddleford laughed behind him, then snorted and chuckled as he realized his unintentional joke. The whole room burst into laughter, grateful for something to lighten the tension on the mountain top, and Bill slipped away.

Fiddleford stood next to his friend and patted his shoulder. "Really, Stanford, I don't trust that guy any farther than I can throw him."

"Fiddleford, he's my friend." Stanford gently reminded him. "If it wasn't for him I wouldn't be where I am right now. I owe him all I have, and besides, I know how it feels to be looked down upon and judged." The god held his right hand with his left, re-counting his fingers. Six. It was always six and always would be six.

The partners were distracted from their conversation at hearing Mabel laughing. They turned to find Mason hiding behind his journal and poking out from behind, playing peek-a-boo, and Mabel squealing with laughter and wiggling her arms with joy. Stanford and Fiddleford smiled and resumed their positions by the new gods' side.

The Underworld was better than the Nightmare Realm in some ways, but worse in others. Bill's powers were limited in the Underworld. It was cold and icy, rather than hot and fiery, like it was in the Nightmare Realm. Bill had way fewer allies here than in the Nightmare Realm, but he had more souls to vex his frustrations out on in the Underworld, and hey this place wasn't crippling and bound to fall apart any minute, that was nice.

But what got under Bill's bricks was the fact that he was so close. He almost had this dimension in his grasp, but he needed the help of his army to take control. If he were to strike now he would lose. He had a plan, he knew what to do, but with those two pains in the picture Bill needed to make sure they wouldn't be in his way.

In a burst of blue fire, Bill appeared just outside of his pyramid-shaped castle and bellowed, "GIDEON!"

A chubby child with white hair up in a bun my dead twigs and a cold, icy baby-blue toga appeared smugly with a platter of worms and cockroaches. "Which will it be, my Lord…"

"Worms later, kid, just let me know the second Time Baby's ready to talk."

"Oh, he's coming in… twelve seconds."

"Thanks, go clip some Threads of Life for a few minutes." Bill instructed as he floated inside the castle and to his high throne. A crystal orb was glowing and buzzing, and when Bill was sitting comfortably, leaning on his knuckles, the orb grew and displayed a picture of the one god Bill hated more than Sixer. "Time Baby."

"Cipher," The baby said in a deep, low voice. "What do you wish of me?"

"I wanna cash in that favor." Bill stated plainly. "I have all the knowledge of the present and the past, but not the future, but you do."

"We know that, and we know I owe you a favor, no need to narrate." Time Baby growled. "Just tell me what you want to know so I can be on my way."

"Sixer's got two little brats hanging on his toga. Are they gonna get in my way or what?"

Time Baby sighed, tired and bored, and gave Bill the answer he wanted. "Eighteen years from your present date, the planets will align. When this happens, a weak spot in the dimension will form, just weak enough for you to be able to break a hole and have your allies join you. When this happens, you will finally dethrone Stanford and be free to rule."

"YES!"

"But… if both of the twins should fight, you will lose." And Time Baby was gone with a small pop.

Bill was still as a statue for a minute or two, until he burst into red flames with a glowing red eye and screamed, "WHAAAAAAT?!"

Gideon and Bill stood side by side at the entrance to the deepest, darkest chamber in the underworld. They both smiled darkly with eyes that gleamed with sickening joy.

"Gideon?"

"Bill,"

"Got a riddle for you." Bill led the way in through the piles of bones, to a ghostly waterfall that had it's priceless treasure suspended from the ground. "How do you kill a god?"

Gideon's grin widened and twisted excitedly as Bill grabbed the tiny bottle of poison. "You make 'em mortal."

"You got it, Short Stack." Bill handed him the bottle and said, "Give Sixer some time. He's so worried about losing them they sleep in his room. The dweeb will convince them to be moved to their own room. That's when you strike. I don't care if you do it in Olympus or not, just give the kids the potion and kill them and don't get caught."

Bill was right; Stanford had their crib be by his bed their first month. Mostly to make sure they were taken care of, but if he was being honest it was to make sure they were safe.

Stanford was the happiest he had been in so long. Throwing lightning bolts to explode for the laughing babies, singing songs while Fiddleford played his harp, tickling their round baby bellies and reading them stories for bed and watching the young gods grow smarter and stronger. Stanford was pleasantly surprised how well he was at taking care of the children, first worried he was not equipped for the task, but Fiddleford, who had a human son on Earth, was a good friend and was always there to help.

One night the great-uncle took his time tucking the twins into the crib, making sure Mason had his journal, which he never slept without, and that Mabel's music box would last a few minutes. "Ford, they'll be fine, don't worry."

"They're still so young." Stanford muttered. "Maybe they should stay in my room a few more nights."

"Now, don't ya worry yourself into a lightnin' storm, they'll have each other. They'll be okay." Fiddleford patted his back and walked the worried god out of the nursery, leaving the babies happily sleeping as they snuggled close.

Fiddleford later went on to deliver his messages and Stanford laid in his large bed to try to rest, a difficult task with his room feeling much bigger now and more intimidating, but he managed to fall asleep with his arms wrapped around his cloud-pillow.

In the dead of night, long after the music box fell silent, Mabel drooled in her sleep while Mason sucked on his toga. A dark shadow loomed over them, stirring them, and Mabel gasped and her breath was caught in her throat.

Stanford blinked drowsily as he heard a tumble, a crash, and what sounded like Mabel crying. No, not crying, screaming. The great-uncle immediately jumped out of bed and ran for his niece and nephew's nursery, yelling, "I'M COMING!"

He threw the curtain out of his way and hurried to the crib that had been thrown over and lying on the front, Mabel still screaming and crying her little heart out. Stanford threw himself to his knees before the mess and dug around the sheets and blanket for his children, heart pounding and hands quivering. "Mason! Mabel! I'm here, I'm here!"

Stanford pulled back a sheet to reveal Mabel, lying on her stomach and wailing with hot tears streaming down her face. The god scooped her up and held her close to his warm chest as he scanned her for injuries. A little bruise was forming on her chest, but she would be okay. Stanford quickly turned his attention to the silent child, terrified something was wrong. "Mason! Mason!"

Stanford turned the whole crib upside down with one arm, scrambling for his nephew. He had to be here somewhere, they were fine, the bed only toppled over, right? Right?! But the baby was nowhere to be seen.

Mabel continued to cry, her heart sounding broken, and Stanford ignored the single tear escaping his right eye to try to find his missing boy. "Mason! Mason! MASON!"

Lightning attacked the sky angrily. A raven with a baby dangling from it's talons flew down from the heavens onto a rocky valley, ignoring the wails from the one-month-old. It dropped the baby lazily before transforming into Gideon's true form.

"Shut up already!" He growled, pulled out the bottle from his toga, and popped it in Mason's mouth. The baby quickly drank the sweet potion, his heavenly glow fading as he did so. Gideon grinned and hissed, "C'mon, c'mon! Every last drop, kid."

"Who's there?"

Gideon jumped, turned into a snake, and slithered behind the rocks to hide, leaving Mason alone to cry and the bottle to shatter, spilling a drop into the dirt.

A hefty man with a buck tooth and worker's clothes turned a corner with a lantern in his hand. "Over here, Melody!"

A woman with dirty blonde curls joined him, gasped, and slowly knelt beside the baby and tenderly scooped him up. "Oh, you poor thing." She cooed. "I know, I know. It's alright."

"Hello! Dudes? Any dudes out there?" The big guy called out.

"Soos, I think he's been abandoned." Melody said sadly as the baby began to calm down.

"Poor dude." Soos said as he petted the baby's head and smiled. "Don't worry, we'll take good care of you, lil'dawg. Hey, look, a necklace." Soos flipped it over after seeing the symbol of the gods and read off the name. "Mason. Huh. His name's Mason."

"What a sweet boy." Melody complimented as Mason grabbed her finger and observed her with eyes filled with wonder. "Why would anyone leave him here?"

"I dunno, sweetie. Whoa, what's that on his forehead?" Soos shined the lantern to his forehead to make sure it wasn't ants or a rash, but no. It was just a birthmark. "Oh. Phew. Just some angel kisses. That's what Abuelita calls them. Hey, looks kinda like a dipper, y'know?"

"It does." Melody giggled. "Well, let's take Dipper here home."

Gideon hissed angrily as the couple walked off with the baby. Oh, well. He got rid of one twin, that was good enough, right? And besides, what chance did a stupid mortal have against the Demon of the Nightmare Realm?