Wendy always checked on the Shack on her way home.
Considering she lived nearby, she had the perfect excuse if the government agents caught her snooping. Wendy was glad to be doing something productive; McGucket didn't need her now that he had Pacifica and Candy to serve as his assistants, and Soos was helping Melody write a formal complaint to the authorities (she still believed it would lead somewhere, the poor soul).
It was hard, however, to keep herself from slashing the tires of those stupid black-tinted cars. Wendy was willing to repress her most spiteful urges, for the sake of Dipper and Mabel and the Stans. She sure hoped they'd be grateful for all those lofty sacrifices when they would finally get back.
These past few days, things had been quiet at the Shack, boring even. The few agents she had encountered on her way home hadn't given her much trouble, and yesterday, there had been no one creeping outside in black duds and sunglasses.
Today, however, the place was crawling with those jerks.
The agents were helping unload a few crates from a large truck, one with black tinted windows as well. Wendy waited until they started opening the boxes and saw them assembling a large mechanical device. What was that thing? McGucket would have known, maybe even Candy.
Wendy snuck closer, thinking she could to send them a few pictures of the strange equipment. She grit her teeth, stifling a curse. These assholes were everywhere, and she'd never been any good at stealth (it wasn't exactly a skill her dad tended to have them practise on their apocalypse preppin' expeditions). Finally, Wendy found what she thought was a good hiding spot. She took out her phone and—
Wendy felt something swooping over her. The air was knocked out of her lungs as she hit the ground. Two hands were pinning her down, stopping her from getting up.
"Hey!" she yelled, managing a look over her shoulder. "What the hell, man?!"
It was the red-haired agent. The bruise on his face had started to heal; Wendy was sorely tempted to give him a matching one on the other side.
"Huh," he said. "Just one of these kids. What are you doing snooping around?"
"Snooping?" Wendy said. "I was on my way home! And stop touching me, you creep!"
To his credit, the guy did let her go. Wendy stood up, glowering at him. Her glare faltered when she saw him holding her phone, but only slightly; she didn't get to be the worst troublemaker at school by having a weakass poker face.
Other agents were approaching them, no doubt curious about the commotion. Among them was that Dryer lady. As always, her face was set in a perfect mask of indifference.
"Hello, Ms. Corduroy," she told Wendy. "Are you alright?"
"What do you think?" Wendy shot back. "D'you guys enjoy assaulting teenagers or something?"
Ginger Dude snorted. "You're interfering with our work, kiddo."
"What work? From what I've seen, all you do is dick around and be a huge pain in the ass for everyone. Why don't you just go home already?"
"I'm afraid we've only started," Ginger Dude said. He glanced at Wendy's phone. "Now, be honest and we'll let you be on your way. What were you doing?"
"What, so checking on the Shack on my way home is forbidden, now?" Wendy said. "My friend Soos, he's been worried sick, he's afraid you guys are gonna tear the place down or something."
"Why would we do that?" Ginger Dude said, sounding mildly amused. "As if we need to rip a house off its foundation to learn what we need. Teens these days, always happy to pretend that authority figures are villains from a kids' movie…"
"You kicked my friend and his family out of their home!" Wendy growled. "That's evil enough!"
"Don't antagonize civilians, Blauer" Agent Dryer told Ginger Dude. "Especially underage civilians." She then turned to Wendy. "I'm sorry for Mr. Ramirez, but we're doing this for his own good as well. Our job is to keep all of you safe."
"Safe? From what?!"
Dryer shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you. It's classified information. You should be going now. Please do remind Mr. Ramirez that he will be compensated for his trouble." She inclined her head. "Good day, Ms. Corduroy."
Wendy snatched her phone from the hands of Agent Blauer. "Yeah, well, screw all of you." And she turned on her heel, not even fighting the urge to offer them a one-fingered salute as she went.
It was only when she was deep inside the woods that Wendy stopped, a certain realization creeping up on her.
Why would we do that? As if we need to rip a house off its foundation to learn what we need.
Oh. Now she knew the purpose of that contraption.
Wendy shouted a curse at the top of her lungs, startling more than a few woodland animals.
"Are you sure you're strong enough to make the journey?" Yaspa told Ford as they made their final preparations for their trek up the mountain. "Kyan's healed your wound, yes, but—"
"I'll be fine," said Ford. "I have to be."
In truth, he felt groggy and nauseous. All Ford wanted right now was a nap. But his current state was nothing compared to the horror of having his brother in the hands of those fanatics. Ford had survived days of torture from his worst enemy; he could endure the world's worst headache for the sake of his brother.
"If you say so," Yaspa said. "You know, a part of me feels like I should be angry with you. For lying about the reason why the Eye of Dawn were after your family."
"Is that so?" Ford said, keeping his tone neutral.
Yaspa shook her head. "Considering your circumstances, I understand why you were so cautious. I can't criticize you. I would have done the same."
Ford flung his bag over his shoulder, managing a smile. "Thank you. For everything."
"We'll prepare for the assault while you're gone," Yaspa said. "Keep Zuri and Kyan out of trouble. I owe their parents that much. And… good luck, Stanford Pines."
"You too," Ford said, nodding.
By then, four figures were heading toward Ford and Yaspa. Mabel ran up to Ford, giving him a quick hug.
"We've got everything!" she told him. "Food, blankets, as much weapons as we could fit in our backpacks… it'll be like going on a camping trip!" Her smile faltered a little. "'Cept for Grunkle Stan being in the clutches of an evil cult while we're—"
"Mabel," Ford said, dropping to his knees and putting a hand over her shoulders. "It'll be alright. Stanley is a tough customer. He'll manage to hold on until we get to him, don't you worry."
"How do you know?" Dipper said, frowning.
"Knowing him, he's probably doing what I did when Bill captured me," Ford continued. "I told Bill that I knew how he could collapse the barrier around Gravity Falls."
"Why did you do that?" Dipper asked.
"Because that would force him to keep me alive," Ford answered. "And, more importantly, because I knew he wouldn't kill the two of you and Stan if there was any chance he could use you three as a bargaining chip against me."
"So Stan is trying to do the same," Dipper said, finally understanding.
"Knowing Stan, he'll stall them as long as he could," Ford said. "He'll pretend Bill is still present, somewhere in his mind."
"Is he, though?" Mabel said, in a very little voice.
Ford took a deep breath. With great difficulty, he said, "I won't lie to you. Bill might be alive in Stan's mind."
The children stared mutely at him. They looked so young, so vulnerable. Ford wished he could have protected them better.
"Or he might be truly gone," he continued. "I don't know. Regardless, those Eye of Dawn people are dangerous. We need to rescue Stan as quickly as possible."
"And rescue him we shall!" Mabel said, punching in the air. "Let's do this, guys!"
"I'm all set," Zuri said, stretching. "What about you, twig?"
"Don't call me that," Kyan mumbled. "Um, Dipper, I was thinking… I could help you practise a bit more on the way? That would help us save your uncle, right?"
"What's the point?" Dipper said. "I can't do magic. I'm just a dumb human who can't even—" He let out a noise of irritation. "Ugh, let's just get going, okay?"
Mabel brought him into a one-armed hug. "Sure thing, brobro! C'mon, everyone, adventure awaits!"
She continued to be in a surprisingly cheery mood as they climbed the mountain trail leading to the Oracle's temple. If this had been last year, Ford would have been impressed by the strength of her spirit. Now that he knew his niece better, it only left him with a deep wistfulness.
"…when we get back, well, first off I'm gonna eat all the pancakes in the world!" she told Kyan and Zuri; both siblings were slightly glassy-eyed. "No, wait, I should pro'bly call Mom and Dad, tell them how much we've enjoyed our summer vacation so far. Then, I'll eat all the pancakes!"
Kyan's smile was a bit forced as she continued the list of things she was looking forward too once they would be back home. He glanced at his sister, who shrugged.
"Oh, oh, and we'll have sleepovers, like, every night! I'll invite my girls over to watch movies and talk about our crushes and…"
"What's a moo-vee?" Kyan asked her.
As she rambled on about the topic (and about why teen comedies of the 80s were the height of cinema), Dipper sidled over to Ford.
"I dunno how she does it," Dipper muttered. "I know I can't. I thought things were finally starting to look up, you know, I thought things would finally be alright, but…"
"But?" Ford prompted.
Dipper's shoulders slumped forward. "Is it always like that? You think you're starting to get better, but then another bad thing happens and you go back all the way to step one? Do we ever get a break? Can't we have nice things happening once in a while?"
"Of course," said Ford. "Don't doubt that for a second."
"Yeah, so, you're not just saying that to make me feel better? That's a thing you grown-ups do, you pretend everything's hunky-dory because you don't want us kids to feel bad or anything." Under his breath, Dipper added, "It's starting to get really annoying, too…"
"I'm not spouting some platitudes, no," Ford replied. "I'm speaking from experience. What you described… well, it just sums up the last thirty years of my life, you know?"
Dipper's cheeks coloured. "Oh. Oh. Man, I'm stupid. Grunkle Ford, I didn't mean to—"
"There's no need to apologize!" Ford chuckled. "You had no way of knowing that I felt that way. I'm not always forthcoming with my emotions. Stanley says I tend to—" Ford made air quotes with his fingers, "—'brood' too much."
He was happy to hear Dipper give a little laugh. "So? Things got better for you? Even after all the bad stuff that happened?"
"Of course they did. You're the very proof of that. You and your sister."
Dipper's eyes went wide. "Really?"
"My boy, the moment I stepped out of that portal, you called me family. Do you know what a precious gift the two of you have given me?"
"Of course we consider you family, you're our uncle," Dipper said. Then, he blinked, finally realizing the meaning of Ford's words. "Except it doesn't always mean anything, does it? Soos' dad didn't care about him. And I've got a feeling Great-Grandpa Filbrick wasn't exactly the best of fathers either."
"No," Ford said grimly, not exactly wanting to delve into that topic, "he wasn't."
"So, like, when Mabel and me, we accepted you as family, then…"
"It was the proof the universe was still willing to let me be happy," Ford completed. "Or at least, that's how it felt to me."
Dipper managed a slight smile. "Heh. That's so sappy. Alright. I'll try to see it your way."
"Hey!" a voice called from ahead. Mabel was waving to them. "We'll get there first if you two dorks don't catch up soon!"
"It's not a race, Mabel!" Dipper said.
"In fact, maybe we should be taking a break," Ford told the children. "Eat a bit, rest our legs."
"Getting tired, old man?" Zuri said with a grin.
"Sis!" Kyan chided her. "He's recovering from a serious injury! Don't be disrespectful!"
Zuri looked at her little brother like he had grown a second head. Still, Kyan held on her gaze with a scowl of his own.
"Pff, I was kidding!" Zuri sat down with a snort. "Got nothing against Gun Grandpa here. I'm glad he showed up, actually."
"…'Gun Grandpa'?" Ford repeated, slightly dismayed.
The other kids sat down next to Zuri. Kyan was rummaging through his pack, while Mabel stretched her arms, yawning.
"Why are you glad about Grunkle Ford being here?" Dipper asked Zuri.
Zuri took the ration bar her brother was handing over to her. "You guys have no idea how bad things were before you showed up. We were losing—badly. Yaspa had just… given up, you know."
"Of course she had," Kyan said. "She was hurting because Ammat was—"
"I know that! But we've all lost people, so why—"
"Who's Ammat?" Mabel asked between mouthfuls of rations.
Kyan and Zuri exchanged a long look.
"Yaspa's wife," the boy said in a sad mutter. "She's the one who started the rebellion in the first place. Yaspa's not been the same since she was taken."
"Killed, you mean," Zuri said.
Her words brought an uncomfortable silence. Kyan looked utterly miserable, but his sister just continued to eat in total indifference.
"Sooo…" Dipper began, in a clear attempt to change the subject, "got any story about your first time here, Great Uncle Ford? What kind of person was that Oracle Lady?"
Ford blinked, uncomfortable with the way the children were looking at him. "She seemed… like a good person. She saved my life. Is there more to tell?"
Something nagged at him, an impression that made his stomach turn. Had something truly happened that night, ten years ago? Or was it simply his deep-seated paranoia acting up again?
Mabel sighed. "Oh, I bet she was super sad that you had to leave. Was it all dramatic and stuff? Like a scene from a movie?"
"Actually, my memories of that night are, well, nonexistent," Ford admitted.
"Why?" asked Mabel. "Did you hurt your head back then?"
"What? No, I don't think so."
Her frown deepened. "Do you have memory problems too?"
Ford immediately turned toward her. "No, no, no, no, no! I'm fine on that front, don't worry, sweetheart! I was simply… well, drunk out of my mind, to make a short story…"
"On that cosmic sand thingie?" Dipper said, frowning.
For the umpteenth time, Ford wondered if his nephew knew the content of his journals by heart. "Um, well, yes… a terrible mistake, to be sure… " Of all the things the boy could remember…
"So, what do you recall about that night?" Dipper asked.
"As I said, not much," Ford said. "I…"
A hazy image came to his mind, like something out of a dream. Jheselbraum's face, struck with horror and remorse. Behind him, a great, pulsing blue light. His feet leaving the ground, pulled by something stronger than gravity.
"Something happened, definitely," Ford continued. "I hadn't thought about it that much, so I'd forgotten, but… something happened. I just can't remember what. The Oracle seemed sad. And… scared, I think."
"Oh," Mabel said, looking down.
Great job, Stanford Pines, Ford berated himself. From one depressing topic to the other…
He was almost glad to call for the end of their break. They kept on walking for a few hours, before stopping to get some proper sleep. The two sets of siblings shared one blanket each. Ford dozed off not long after they fell asleep, his trench coat draped over him.
The next day, his headache had lessened somewhat. By then, they had gotten quite high enough up the mountain. The view here was spectacular. Distant peaks seemed as tall as molehills, while the trees of the shining forest below appeared as big as blades of grass. From this height, Ford could even see the lights of the city nestled deep in the neighbouring valley. Something clenched in his chest. No, he couldn't think of his brother, trapped in that temple with those Cipher-worshipping nutcases. He had to trust in Stan. His twin had always been able to make the most out of every horrible situation. It was one of the things that made Stan, well, Stan.
That's what you told yourself when Dad kicked him out of the house, the insidious voice of doubt whispered in Ford's mind. And we all saw how it turned out, didn't we?
Mabel was now teaching Kyan and his sister some of her favourite pop songs to pass the time. Even Dipper joined in the fun, and soon the four kids were belting out a terribly catchy power ballad. Their performance only came to an end as they finally reached their destination.
It was difficult to describe the emotions that rose within Ford at the sight of those three pyramids. Nostalgia? Sorrow? Relief, even? The place was as majestic as ever, but the people who had lived within those walls, who had saved him and cared for his wounds… well, they were gone, hunted by the followers of his worst enemy. Had Ford unwittingly led Bill Cipher and his worshippers to what had once been a peaceful haven? He didn't want to entertain the thought.
The few coral-like trees that remained in the courtyard seemed half-dead, only shimmering faintly in the purple gloom. Bits of broken stone littered the place; Ford was struck with a sudden anger at the poor state of the place. That was another crime to lay at the feet of the Eye of Dawn.
The children obviously did not feel the same way. Mabel took off with a grin, eyes wide with amazement. Her brother and Kyan quickly followed, and Dipper even grabbed his journal, no doubt awestruck by their surroundings. Only Zuri remained subdued. Unlike her brother, she probably remembered her childhood home—and the violent event that had ripped them from their parents.
"Whoa…" Mabel said. "It's not as huge as the Temple of Dawn, but…"
She startled when they heard a loud, clanging sound, followed by laughter. Ford immediately took out his gun. Three people were leaving one of the smaller pyramids. The two men and the woman were dressed shabbily, and they were carrying several objects, including a few metallic ornaments and some silverware. Their laughter stopped abruptly when they caught sight of the newcomers. The blue-skinned, five-eyed man at their front seemed oddly familiar to Ford.
"Hey!" the man told the kids angrily. "What are you guys doing here? We found this place first, we did!"
"Wait, you're that guy!" said Dipper. "The one from the barn!"
Mabel gasped. "He's still wearing my wristwatch!"
The man blinked in confusion, staring dumbly at the kids, before looking at Ford. "Huh! It's that freak with jus' two eyes! The one I told you guys about, the one who invaded my barn!"
"Watch who you're calling a freak!" Dipper shouted.
"Whazzat?" The five-eyed man stomped toward Dipper, his scowl deepening. "You're sayin' something, kid?"
He nearly jumped nearly ten feet in the air when something crackled and exploded at his feet. Ford glared at him from over the still fuming barrel of his gun.
"That's as close as you can get to these children," he growled. "Back away, or the next shot will go through your skull."
"No, Grunkle Ford, they're dweebs!" Mabel cried. "You can't just threaten to kill them, you can't!"
"Alright," Ford said gruffly. "Get away from the children before I methodically break every bone in both of your legs."
Thankfully, that threat struck true, and the three looters backed away, the woman even falling to her rear in the process.
"Why are you still here?" Ford barked, mustering his best glare. "Get out of my sight!"
As they ran past him, Ford was sure he'd heard their leader mutter something along the lines of, "You'll be sorry when I'll be back, buster!" Ford rolled his eyes at the threat.
When they were gone, he put away his gun, turning to the children. Again, he felt a dull pang as they stared back at him, looking unsure.
"Alright," he told them. "Let's see what we can find."
Stan heard the sound of the sea lapping on the shores.
Eyes closed, he took in the familiar, soothing noise, inhaling deeply. An equally comforting smell floated to his nostrils; seaweed and salt, the scent of a childhood well spent on the beach. To the sound of the crashing waves were added the laughter of children. Stan smiled, opening his eyes.
The colours of his surroundings were a little off, like someone had scribbled over a greyscale painting with crayons. Still, Stan didn't mind; it reminded him of the drawings Soos kept giving him when he'd been younger. The Shack was flanked by both forest and sea—his two homes. More laughter came from the woods. The kids were probably up to no good, Stan thought with a grin. On the pier by his house, a grey-haired man in a woollen sweater was fishing, bare feet touching the surface of the water. Stan's grin grew wider; there was another fishing rod next to his brother.
He breathed in deeply, savouring those sights, smells and sounds. Stan knew where he was.
This was his mind.
Stan walked toward the pier. Ford was wearing his stupid little fishing hat. Stan bit down a laugh, loudly calling, "Hey, Sixer! Mind if I join you?"
Ford turned toward Stan. It was hard to see his expression from this distance, but he seemed to be smiling. Stan lifted one foot, intending to join his brother, but he was stopped in his tracks by a strange noise. It almost sounded like someone had snorted behind him. Stan turned around, frowning. There was no one.
Stan looked toward Ford again. His brother was gone, leaving behind the two fishing rods. "Fordsie?" he asked, brows furrowing. "What the hell? Where d'you go?"
"Oh, wow!" a voice said behind Stan. The sound of it grated at his ears, for some reason. "Place sure is more colourful than it used to be the last time I was here!"
Stan whirled on his feet, but found no one behind him. His frown deepened as he looked around.
"And here I thought you were nothing but a sad sack of an old man!" the voice continued. It was about as charming as a TV announcer screaming all of his lines at the top of his lungs. "If I had a heart, I'd be touched, really!"
"Where the hell are you?" Stan shouted. Chills went down his spine when the voice laughed in response. His head began to swim as he searched the source of the sound. Finally, his eyes spied a hint of colour.
In front of him, a small floating triangle had just appeared.
A yellow triangle with a bowtie, a top hat and one bloodshot eye.
"Finally!" the triangle said. "I was starting to think you'd never notice me, Mackerel!" He squinted that single eye in an approximation of a smile. "Didja miss me? Admit it, you missed me!"
Stan took a step backward. Every cell in his body urged him to run, though he could not explain why. "What are you s'posed to be?"
The triangle gasped. "You don't remember me! My, Stanley Pines, how could you?" The words were followed by another cackle. "Then again, that was the whole point of your little scheme, wasn't it?"
"The point?" Stan felt very cold all of a sudden. "The hell you're talking about?"
Again, the triangle replied by laughing. Stan gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to just punch his lights out.
"He cried, didn't he?" the triangle said, voice dripping with maliciousness. "Fordsie, I mean. He cried when he killed you, right?"
"Shut up," Stan growled. "Shut your goddamn mouth!"
The triangle circled Stan's head. "Aw, still a sensitive subject? And yet you forgave him, didn't ya? Even though he treated you like the dirt on his shoes for most of your life. Even though he raised a gun to your head and destroyed your mind. Have you noticed that you're the one who always pays the big price between the two of you? Convenient, that."
"I said shut up!" With that surge of anger came a stomach-churning realization. Stan jabbed a finger at the triangular asshole, shouting, "You! I remember you! You're—"
And a certain name left his lips.
Stan blinked, still pointing. The name he'd said was—
"Well, well, well…" A cane appeared in the triangle's stick-thin hands, and he began to twirl it. "I haven't heard that one in a long, long time… not even dear Sixer knows my true name, you realize?" Something flashed in that single eye, like a hint of vindication.
"H-Huh?" Stan said.
"Funny, that. Very, very funny…"
"Shut it, Cipher," Stan spat. "I'm not in the mood for your bullshit." And he snapped his fingers, fully expecting the stupid triangle to vanish from his mindscape.
Bill Cipher only looked at his hand, like he was inspecting his (nonexistent) fingernails.
"Wait, what? Why are ya still there? The hell's going on?"
From within the forest came familiar voices. Stan froze, recognizing the kids' excited rambles. His blood iced in his veins.
"Aw," Bill said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "You put fake versions of your family in your mindscape? Still clingy as ever, aren't ya, Mackerel?"
Stan said nothing, only making his hands into fists. Maybe if he'd just let the dumbass talk, he would wake up and not have to deal with his crap anymore.
Bill's eye was fixed on the forest. "You think those kids are still gonna give a damn about you when they're grown up? When they'll be important people, with important lives?"
"Not gonna answer that," Stan said gruffly.
Bill snorted. "You know what you mortals all have in common? Selfishness. Consequence of knowing the clock's ticking, you see? Once you're a vegetable in a retirement home, they're not gonna come visit you, you know. They'll have better things to do than watch you drool all over yourself."
Despite himself, Stan felt a jolt of panic. Still, he ignored it and said instead, through grit teeth, "No, they won't, you asshole."
Bill answered by laughing madly. "Then again, that's only if they survive to adulthood," he said, single eye gleaming. "And they won't. They're gonna die soon, after all."
Stan's heart skipped a beat. "What?!"
"Of course. When I get hold of your body, I'm gonna wrap those big paws of yours around their little necks and squeeze—"
Stan lunged forward, roaring.
"Whoa!" Bill floated away. "Violent much, Mackerel? And I thought Ford was unstable!"
With a snarl, Stan spun on his heel to attack him once more. Again, his fist only met the empty air. In fact, now that he could take a better look, Stan realized that the three-sided jerk was nowhere to be found.
"Funny it took you scrambling your mind for me to come back, isn't it?" Bill's voice said, out of nowhere. "And by funny, I mean entirely not a coincidence."
"You're dead!" Stan roared. "You can't have survived, you're—!"
"Survived?" There was a long, deliberate pause. "I didn't survive. You're right, I'm dead. I've croaked, I've bitten the dust, I'm pushing metaphorical daisies. Your little stunt with the memory gun made sure of that."
Stan's fiery-hot anger was dimming, gradually replaced by cold dread. "But if you're not dead, then what are you…?"
"Aw, c'mon. You know what I am. What you are, now that's the better question!"
"I'm nobody!" Stan said, heart pounding. "I'm just Stan Pines from Jersey! There's nothing special about me!"
"We both know that I'm not here, not really," said Bill. "I'm an imprint of what was left behind. So if I know the truth about you, that means you do too, Mackerel. But you're used to be livin' a lie, aren'tcha? It's nice that you got me to open your eye to the truth."
"Eye? Whaddya mean—"
And a sudden pain burned around Stan's right eye, as if a sharp object had just been lodged into its socket. He screamed and screamed, putting his hands over his face and feeling the warmth of blood pouring over his fingers.
At the same time, there was a sharp noise, like the sound of a match being lit.
And suddenly, everything was fire.
The Shack went up in flames, while the inferno swept over the crayon-coloured trees, turning them to ashes. The children's laughter died, replaced by screams, so many screams. Hundreds, thousands, millions of beings were suffering a fiery, violent end, and Stan was here to see, hear, feel every second of their torment.
And all of them cried, Why? Why are you doing this to us, why why why.
"I did it because I hated you!" Stan screamed madly, blood dripping over his chin. His hands were stained red, red, red, and his voice didn't sound like his own—no, the voice that left his lips seemed to belong to a child. "I did it because I hated you as much as you hated me!"
In response, all he got were more screams of pain and terror. In his guts, horror mixed with satisfaction as he heard them begging for mercy. Stan felt like he was going to puke, so instead he forced himself to laugh. It was a grotesque, terrible sound, one devoid of any joy or humour.
The moment he regained his senses, he clamped his hand over his mouth, another bout of nausea surging through him.
What was that? It felt too real to be simply a nightmare. Why on earth would he dream about the deaths of so many people?
No. That was the wrong question. Stan didn't want to admit it, but it was true. In his heart of hearts, Stan knew what he should really be asking.
Whose memories are these?
There was a loud, ripping sound, one that sent goosebumps rippling across his skin. Stan gazed upward. Garish colours bled into the pale azure from an open wound in the sky. Ash filled his mouth and nose, making him want to retch.
And the screams just kept on coming.
Suddenly, Stan's feet left the ground, as if he was swept away by a force greater than gravity. Someone caught him by the wrist. An older, grey-haired gentleman in a dapper suit stared back at Stan. His features were hidden in shadows, save for his eyes: one golden and gleaming, the other bloodied and shut tight.
"You're nothing," Bill-in-Stan's form said. He seemed very much unconcerned by the destruction being wrought around them. "You're tacked on, an afterthought. You're a half-assed new coat of pain. Not wait, it's worse. You're a copy. A defective copy, 'cause ol' Xolo, for all his godly wisdom, has a fourth grader's understanding of human genetics." He snorted. "Honestly, what a weirdo. 'Ooh, I have a twin, twins are cool, everyone should have a twin, that's fun!' Hah! As if family can be anything but trouble!"
Stan tried to free his hand from the demon's grip. His efforts prompted a wider grin from Bill.
"At least yours won't be a problem soon! I murdered one family already, how hard it can be to do it again? 'Cept this time, I'll get to enjoy it. Then again, Big Frilly's all about these second chances, isn't he?"
"No!" Stan shouted, but his voice was lost in the roar of the inferno and the screams of the people burning.
"It won't be long, now…" the demon said, sounding oddly contemplative. "Time to scrape that paint and see what colour you bleed, 'Stanley Pines'."
Bill let go of his hand.
And Stan fell upward, toward the wound in the sky.