– Ten years ago –

Ford woke up with a shaved head—and a searing migraine.

The room was bathed in a soft purple glow, but to his sensitive eyes it felt about as comforting as a flashing strobe light. His bed was covered with so many silk cushions that he could almost drown in them. And the smell of incense caught in his nose, making him want to sneeze.

This assault on his senses came to an end when Ford suddenly remembered where he was… and why. The metal plate. The Oracle. The promise to have his mind shielded from Bill Cipher. Breath catching in his throat, Ford raised a hand to knock on his head. He was rewarded by a sharp burst of pain… and an unmistakable metallic clang.

Ford sat up, the fog gone from his mind. Was it done then? Was he finally free of Bill Cipher?

There was a sudden yelp from his left, and Ford startled. He hadn't even noticed someone else was in the room with him.

One of Jheselbraum's apprentices was looking at him, somewhat fretfully. He had met several of them so far, but they had never spoken a word to him. She was the youngest of the lot he'd seen so far, with green skin and pale, messy hair. The thing that struck him, however, was her eyes. A pair of soft forest green eyes stared back at him, round with shock. Not five, not four, not even three eyes, like the rest of her brethren. Only two.

She said something that Ford could obviously not understand, nearly dropping the blankets she was carrying.

"I'm sorry," Ford said, before realizing she had no means of understanding him. "I mean, can you get Jheselbraum? Please?"

She nodded, before scampering out of the room. Ford leaned back into the bed with a sigh. Not long after, the Oracle was making her way inside, shadowed by the young woman.

"Good morning, Stanford," said Jheselbraum. "How are you feeling?"

Ford touched his head. It was strange to feel only the barest of stubble under his fingertips. "Good, actually. I'm surprised I'm not feeling worse, considering I've just had a metal plate fastened directly against my skull…"

"I had my best healers on your case," Jheselbraum answered. "Your speedy recovery was our priority."

Because I'm the one destined to defeat Bill Cipher…? Ford could not help but think. He did not say it out loud, of course. "Thank you," he offered instead.

Jheselbraum inclined her head, wordlessly instructing her acolyte to put the tray beside Ford. A soothing aroma was coming out of a steaming mug. Next to it was a bowl filled with something resembling soup—well, purple soup. Despite the odd colour, it smelled delicious.

"Eat up," said the Oracle. "You need to gather all of your strength before continuing your journey."

Ford sipped from the mug, looking at her through the fog forming on his glasses. "Continue my journey," he said evenly. "Yes, of course."

He felt a twinge of disappointment—which was surprising and more than a little shameful. He'd been here for a short time, no more than a few days, really, and yet…

"Don't look so glum," Jheselbraum said. "We'll be sure to celebrate before you leave."

"Celebrate? Whatever for?" Ford swallowed nervously, finally steeling his nerves enough to ask, "Is it because my mind is finally safe from Bill Cipher?"

The young acolyte opened her mouth in shock, before uttering a series of words in their melodious language. Jheselbraum's reply sounded like an attempt to appease the girl; still, the Oracle's smile was belied by the slight crease on her brow.

"What did she say?" Ford asked.

"All the visions that come to me are recorded by my acolytes," Jheselbraum said. "She only asked if you had something to do with a certain prophecy."

"I see," Ford said. "Just so you know, I don't put a lot of stock in that sort of thing. I doubt I'm some prophesized hero."

Because, yes, Ford was certain he would defeat Bill Cipher one day—but not because destiny ordained it. He would pull it off by relying on his wits—and, of course, on the stubbornness that came with being a Pines. Ford did not dare—did not want—to trust in anything else.

"Of course." Jheselbraum's smile had an enigmatic quality to it. "We'll leave you to your lunch. Call us if you need anything."

In a soft flutter of robes, she was gone from the room. Her acolyte, however, lingered, wide green eyes still fixed on Ford. He endured her scrutiny for a moment, before letting out a noise of irritation.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" he snapped.

She couldn't understand his words, but she did understand his intent very clearly. With a squeal, she scurried off, leaving Ford alone with his soup and tea.

– Unknown location, 2013 –

Ford weaved in and out of consciousness.

It was difficult to keep track of time in his current state. Voices spoke in low tones around him, while blurry forms scurried about him. Was he in bed? No, he realized with a wince, he was lying on a surface that was about as comfortable as a slab of concrete. The ache in his back attested to that.

A number of people took turns sitting at his side. There was a blue-skinned youth with glowing hands. More familiar figures also came to visit Ford. Through blurry eyes, he sometimes spied a boy scribbling something in a book or a girl diligently working with her knitting needles. However, the one who had kept the most steadfast vigil was an older man with a bowed head and clasped hands. He seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. In his brief moments of lucidity, all Ford wished for was to tell him to get some much-needed rest.

Eventually, consciousness began to ebb in, and more pain started to register. Ford's right arm refused to move, and he realized belatedly that it was stuck in a cast. His ribs hurt as if someone had recently tap danced on his torso.

His awakening caused more agitation in the room. Ford struggled to have a better grasp of his surroundings. The place was dimly lit by a lantern next to his cot. The walls were made of rocks; in fact, the place seemed to have been hollowed out of a cavern.

It was hard making sense of what the two figures next to him were saying. He heard the occasional whirring and fizzing sounds, suggesting that his translator was having trouble keeping up with their mumbling.

Ford tried to sit up, only to immediately regret that decision. With a hiss, he lay back. The two strangers began to speak faster, and the taller of the two left the room.

"Where… where am I?" Ford managed.

A blurry blue figure came nearer. "H-Hello, sir. Here, have s-something to drink. My s-sister went to fetch some food."

Ford accepted the mug, but did not drink from it. "Who are you?"

The figure seemed to hesitate. Before he could answer, however, three other people entered the room. Even without his glasses, Ford recognized them immediately.

"Grunkle Ford!" A whirlwind of pastel was rushing toward him, only to be stopped by the tallest of the three figures.

"Easy there, pumpkin," said Stan. "No rib crushin' hugs, remember? He's still recovering."

"Here are your glasses, Great Uncle Ford," Dipper said, putting them over his eyes. "Thankfully, they didn't break when we fell."

Ford nearly dropped his mug as the meaning of the boy's words sank in. "We were falling!" he exclaimed. "Oh my god, what happened? Where are we? How did we survive?!"

"Easy there," said Stan. "We're safe, we're all in one piece, see? Maybe we should let the kid explain everythin'. It'll be quicker, anyway."

He motioned to the figure hovering by the door, and the blue-skinned boy came forward with unsure, halting steps. He looked about the twins' age, with dark, messy curls. It took Ford some time to notice he had only two eyes. Ford frowned, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu.

"Um, m-my name's Kyan. My sister Zuri and I, well, we saved you while you were falling…"

"You did?" Ford said. "How, exactly?"

"O-Oh…" Kyan scratched the back of his head. "By using a levitation spell. I treated your wounds the best I could, too. I-I'm not very good at magic, but—"

"Ugh, stop the false modesty, will you?" a new voice said from the doorway. "I'm getting second-hand embarrassment from all that s-stuttering too."

Two figures came inside. A three-eyed teenage girl with the same blue skin as Kyan put down a bowl filled with greyish slop next to Ford's cot. The other newcomer was a tall, broad-shouldered woman with orange skin and close-cropped hair. She approached Ford, standing straight and stiff as a drill sergeant.

"So, you're awake?" the orange-skinned woman said, all five of her eyes narrowing. "Good."

Ford squinted back, still finding it hard to keep focus. "How… how long was I out?"

"Almost four days. I had Kyan keep you under sedation to make sure you wouldn't worsen your injuries."

Ford blinked, gingerly touching his chin; rather than stubble, he felt the coarse beginning of a beard under his fingertips.

"You still shouldn't move, s-sir," Kyan said. "I mean, the healing spells helped, but you're in a p-pretty bad shape."

"What the kid said," the orange-skinned woman added. "Call me Yaspa. I'm the leader of—"

"A friggin' rebellion!" Mabel completed, jumping up and down. "Those guys lead the fight against the Eye of Dawn! Isn't that awesome?"

One of Yaspa's eyes twitched, but she did not comment Mabel's interruption. Instead, she said, "We've been trying to come in contact with you since your arrival. You're lucky that Kyan and Zuri were able to find you in time."

"Huh," said Ford. He drank from his mug, before taking a spoonful of that grey slosh. It tasted disgusting as it looked, but he was famished. "You knew about us? How?"

With her chin, Yaspa motioned at the teenage girl. "We've enrolled Zuri in the Eye of Dawn youth corps. She's been providing intel for two years now."

"A few weeks back, I noticed they were planning something," Zuri continued. "Something big. I figured it had something to do with that weird machine at the top of the temple, so I snooped around." She took out a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and handed it over to Ford. It was his wanted poster. "They must hate you pretty bad. The moment that portal thingie went on, they used it to bring you over to our dimension."

"Well, there must have been a malfunction," Ford said. "We showed up miles away from the temple."

Zuri snorted. "Malfunction, my ass. I entered the wrong coordinates so we could pick you up out of town."

"Oh," Ford said, exchanging a look with Stan. The latter just shrugged. "So you were the ones on that hovercraft back then?"

"You think we can afford one of these things? Hah!" Zuri rolled her eyes when Yaspa glared at her. "What? You know it's true, boss."

"This isn't important," Yaspa said. "Right now, you need to tell us who you are exactly and why the Eye are after you."

"We're in Dimension 52, aren't we?" Ford blurted out. "Or an offshoot thereof."

"Wait, what?" said Stan. "You knew where we were this whole time?"

"I didn't," Ford replied. "I mean… it was a hypothesis of mine, but I couldn't exactly verify my theory."

"We are in Mictlan, yes," the woman called Yaspa said. "Or, as you dimensional travellers call it, Dimension 52. I guess our suspicion was right, then. You really are the one that Lady Jheselbraum told us about. Stanford Pines, the man she helped ten years ago."

Ford could nearly see the gears working in Dipper's head. "Dimension 52?" his nephew said. "And Lady Jheselbraum? D'you mean the Oracle?"

"I'm starting to believe you know the content of my journals by heart," Ford said with a chuckle.

Dipper cleared his throat, before muttering, "More or less. I did, uh, spend an entire summer obsessing over them, you know."

"Wait, wait, wait," Stan said. "Start at the beginning so me an' Mabel can understand what's goin' on, will ya?"

Ford looked at Yaspa and the rest of her collaborators. "You go first," he told her. "How do you know Jheselbraum?"

"Everyone in Mictlan knows her," Yaspa said. "She's the Oracle, the only one capable of speaking directly to the Lord of Twilight."

"Huh," said Stan. "First, these Dawn guys, now some Twilight dude. I'm sensin' a pattern here."

Yaspa glared at him. "It's not the same. Our faith has endured over millenia. The Eye of Dawn came into power barely ten years ago." She looked at Ford, tilting her head. "Not long after you left the Oracle's care when I think about it."

"Where is she now?" Ford said, not liking the hint of suspicion in her voice. "Jheselbraum, I mean."

"That's what we've been trying to find out for nearly ten years," Yaspa said, eyes still narrowed. "We've been fighting the Eye of Dawn ever since."

"We've been losing against them ever since, you mean."

"Zuri!" the boy called Kyan said. "Don't say things like that!"

Yaspa sighed. "I hate to say it, but she's right. Your… child called us a rebellion, but most of us are civilians. Refugees, even. Almost all of our fighters have been killed or captured already."

"Wait, no one else is fighting these jerks?" Mabel said. "Why?"

"Who knows?" Yaspa said. "I don't know how they convinced our people to turn their backs on the Lord of Twilight. I don't even know if the one they call the Eye of Dawn actually exists!"

"Oh, he does," Ford croaked. "At least, he did."

All eyes turned to him. Dipper grimaced in horror, while Stan opened and closed his mouth in quick succession.

"Bill…" Dipper said. "You think it's Bill Cipher, don't you?"

"Bill Cipher? The master of the Nightmare Realm?" Yaspa passed a hand through her short hair, looking troubled. "I thought he was a myth."

"Oh, he's real alright," Mabel said. "Also, super, super dead. We killed him!"

"Or rather, Stan did," Dipper said, pointing at his uncle. To Ford's surprise, Stan evaded everyone's gaze, rubbing the back of his neck in a self-conscious manner.

"How d'you pull that off?" Zuri said, sounding excited for once. "Killing a god?"

"He wasn't a god, more like… a demon or something," Dipper said. "His whole schtick was tricking people into making deals with him so he could possess your body."

"He really wanted to get into Grunkle Ford's mind for some reason," Mabel said. "So Grunkle Stan pretended to be him to trap Bill inside his mind!" She took a deep breath, before continuing, in a decidedly less enthusiastic voice, "Then, Grunkle Ford destroyed him with a memory gun-thingie..."

"That's the whole of it?" asked Yaspa. "You killed the god worshipped by the Eye of Dawn, and now they want revenge?"

Ford nervously swallowed. "Probably," he lied.

"Huh," said Yaspa. "I almost expected something more, well, convoluted."

"I've always figured that they were a bunch of fakes on a power trip," Zuri added.

"Perhaps they are," Ford said. "But Bill Cipher was real, that much I can tell you."

"It sure explains their fetish for gold," Dipper said with a shudder.

"Did it really need any explanation?" said Stan. "I mean, it's gold."

Zuri gave him a wry grin. "Seems like you'd fit right it with those idiots."

"Eh, maybe not with the bottom feeders. Giving away my hard-earned cash's not my style." Stan returned her smirk. "Wouldn't mind being the one getting all these donations, though!"

Ford rolled his eyes. Sometimes Stan's antics really grated on his nerves. "As Dipper said, it's probably just a Bill thing. He had a thing for gold. It's probably irrelevant, anyway."

His words were followed by silence. Ford winced and brought a hand to his head, suddenly feeling woozy.

"Oh!" said Kyan. "I told you guys, s-swarming him was a bad idea! He needs more rest!"

"Fine," said Yaspa. "We'll continue this discussion once he's more up to it. Everybody out. Give the man some space."

"But—" Mabel began, sounding distressed.

"I'd rather have my brother and the children stay," Ford said precipitately.

Yaspa shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you need anything, ask Kyan."

"My room is the next one over," the boy said. "Um, I'll come back with more food l-later."

"Thanks, Kyan!" Mabel said, giving him a radiant smile. Next to her, Dipper muttered something, rolling his eyes.

"Awright," Stan said after Yaspa and her two young associates had left, "finish your soup and get some shut-eye, Sixer. Don't worry 'bout a thing, me and the kids we getcha covered."

Ford struggled to sit up, ignoring Stan's protests.

"Whoa, whoa! You heard that Kyan kid, you need to take it easy!"

"I've been awake for barely thirty minutes, and already you want me to go back to sleep?" Ford managed a smile. "Am I that much of a bore?"

Mabel scooted over next to him. "Only if you start talking about nerd stuff. Even then, it's not so bad. You don't ramble as much as Dipper."

"Har dee har," Dipper said.

Ford's smile faded. There was something he needed to tell them, but his resolve simply dissipated at the sight of their faces—or, more precisely, at the sight of Stan's face. His brother's eyebrows furrowed, and Ford inwardly cursed. Sometimes, he wished he could have as good of a poker face as Stan.

"Something's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asked.

Vessel, that priestess had said. Vessel, and obviously she hadn't meant Ford.

Vessel. There was only one reason they would need Stan to serve such a purpose.

"I… no, everything's fine," Ford said. He ate his slop in deliberately loud slurps. "There's just… a lot to think about."

To Ford's surprise, it was Dipper who called him out on his lie. "Great Uncle Ford, you told me you wouldn't keep things from us anymore. You promised."

"'s that so?" Stan said, eyes narrowing as well. "Yeah, Ford, what are you keeping from us?"

"It's not important, Stanley. Don't worry about it—"

"Oh, I see where this is goin'," Stan said, standing up and pacing around the room. "You're pullin' that shit again, aren'tcha? Going around, not tellin' me anything for my own good or somethin'." He pointed angrily at Ford. "You saw how it all went last year! With demons pourin' out of the sky and us nearly all dyin'! Goddammit, Stanford, I thought we'd moved beyond that!"

"This isn't the same thing," Ford said weakly. "Stan, I swear—"

"How is it any different? 'Cause this time you're not going behind my back plottin' stuff with the kids and puttin' them in danger?"

"Grunkle Stan—" Dipper began. His sister was hugging her knees, tears filling her eyes.

"It's always the same crap, isn't it? You're leavin' me behind 'cause you think I can't handle it, 'cause I'm the dumbass dragging you down, 'cause I'm the one who screws up all the time—"

"Those people are targeting you because you defeated Bill Cipher!" Ford shouted. "They're after you because you had to step up and fix a mistake I've made!"

Stan's anger seemed to evaporate. "Ford…"

Ford felt all the strength leaving his body. He leaned back, putting his face into his hands. He winced when two small arms wrapped around his side, before relaxing. In response, Mabel just put her head on his shoulder.

"Bill Cipher…" Stan said. "You mean the triangle guy, right? The one you guys said I killed?"

"You don't remember defeating him?" Dipper said.

Stan frowned. "I remember… how it all started, and the survivors holing up at the Shack. I remember searchin'…" He inhaled sharply. "Well, searchin' around and not findin' the lot of you and thinkin' you were all dead…"

"But we weren't dead," Mabel blubbered. "We're all here, we're all fine, see?"

Stan managed a slight smile. "Yeah. I remember you finally showing up, and coming up with that stupid rescue plan. I remember that we had to stand together in a circle, holding hands or some shit, and that I—" His voice broke again. It took him a while to add, "And that's it. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in that clearing, not knowing why I'm there—well, not knowing anything, really."

"Thank God for the noble art of scrapbooking," Ford said hoarsely, and Mabel gave his midsection a gentle squeeze.

"I only know what's happened afterward 'cause you told me. You all said I took Ford's place and that I made a deal with—" Stan's face paled, and he could say no more.

"You don't need to continue if it makes you uncomfortable," Ford said.

"Alright," Stan said in a slightly squeaky voice. "I don't remember the specifics, but thinking 'bout it… it gives me the creeps, y'know? Being possessed's probably not a nice experience."

"No," Dipper said quickly. "It really isn't."

Stan looked startled. "Wait, you too? W-When, h-how…" When Dipper did not answer, Stan sat down with a sigh. For a moment, he looked ten years older than he truly was. "Oh man. Look at us. That Cipher guy and his buddies really did a number on us."

Ford's hands tightened into fists, and a wave of anger submerged him. It was supposed to be over, yet here they were, still dealing with the fallout of the mistakes he'd made thirty years ago.

"And now a bunch of crazy assholes worshipping him want to kill us, huh? Go figure. Couldn't they have picked another hobby?"

"They don't want to kill us, Stan," Ford found himself saying. "That's not their endgame."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ford's heart began to beat faster. There, he'd said it. A part of him screamed that he should keep his mouth shut, that Stan didn't need to hear the horrible truth of what the Eye of Dawn was planning.

That Ford's brother deserved the comfort of ignorance after forty years' worth of misery and loneliness.

Stan looked lost, guileless almost, in a way that tore at Ford's heart. "So… why are they after me, then?"

"Great Uncle Ford," Dipper said, "you don't think that…"

"Vessel. That's what that priestess said when she saw Stan."

A thick silence hung in the air. Stan shook his head, saying, "Oh, no, no… hell to the no."

Ford met his brother's terrified gaze and mustered all of his strength to say, "They want to use you, Stan… to bring Bill Cipher back."

Wendy stretched as she got out of the Shack, happy to feel the warmth of the setting sun on her face.

They had spent most of the week cooped up in the basement, helping McGucket repair the portal. According to the old kook, they were making good progress. One week or two, and they would be ready to test it. Frankly, it was almost disappointing that she couldn't put that achievement on her resume. Searching for a job would be easier if potential employers knew Wendy was competent enough to help build a doomsday machine.

Soon, Soos was at her side, handing her a can of soda like the gentleman he was. "There you go, dude!"

"Thanks." Wendy took a sip, savouring it. "It's cheesy, but being in that basement all day really makes you appreciate the outdoors, huh? Never thought I'd be so glad to see trees."

"I guess what you mean, dawg. Place's creepy. In a cool-horror-movie kinda way, but still creepy." For a moment, Soos looked sad. "Wonder how Mr. Pines did it. Thirty years is an awfully long time to be stuck in the dark all the time."

"Huh," Wendy said. She had never thought of it that way. No wonder Stan was so cranky all the time. She briefly wondered what she would have done if she'd been in his shoes. The idea of one of her little brothers being lost to in the multiverse made her sick to the stomach, and she quickly shooed it away.

A couple of figures were coming out of the woods: McGucket and the girls, followed by the three crab bots. With the old man's blessing, Wendy, Candy and Grenda had named their mechanical partners-in-crime. One of the bots was now called Grendinator the Third: The Reckoning (they'd all agreed to shorten it to Recky). Candy had dubbed her helper 1D, after a boy band of all things. Wendy had done the sensible thing and named hers Crabby; Soos had told her it was the name of a Pokémon, which nearly made her want to change it back.

"We've got food!" Grenda shouted, pointing at the crab bots. Several takeout boxes were piled on their backs.

"Susan was nice enough to give a discount," Candy said. "She gave us a free pie too!"

"Nice job, people," Wendy said. "What's that written on the bill? A phone number?"

"Oh, yes," said Candy. "She also wanted us to give her number to—" She made air quotes with her fingers, "—'Stan's cute brother'."

"So embarrassing," Pacifica said, sticking out her tongue in disgust.

Wendy fought an urge to snort. "She's got her game on. I respect that."

"Aw, man, you guys are heroes!" said Soos. "Melody's already set the table. We were just waiting for you dudes!"

"A'ight!" said McGucket. "Let's go before the food gets cold, kiddos!"

Candy and Grenda cheered as they escorted the crab bots and their precious cargo inside the Shack. McGucket and Pacifica followed at a slower pace, the girl responding laconically to the old man's ramblings.

"I guess we should get going too, huh?" Wendy told Soos. "Don't want those fries to get all soggy and gross."

Soos was about to answer when a saw a black-tinted vehicle came up the driveway. "Huh," he said. "That's weird. The Shack's been closed for hours."

Wendy froze. "Soos. That car… is that…?"

"What d'you—oh." Soos' face paled when people in black suits exited the vehicle. "Oh. Those dudes sure don't look like tourists…"

The first to get out of the car was a short woman in her forties, hair cut in a sensible bob. Her colleague was tall and thin, and as much of a carrot top as Wendy. The red-haired guy removed his sunglasses, revealing quite the shiner on his right cheek. He glanced at Wendy's bandaged hand, and his eyes narrowed.

"Oh, man," Soos said.

Wendy nervously swallowed. "Oh man indeed."