Despite the severity of her predicament, Pacifica refused to let her fear show.

Her composure had been somewhat shaken when she'd realized the agents' car wasn't heading toward the Mystery Shack. Pacifica had tensed in her seat, prompting a smirk from Agent Blauer.

"Where are we going?" she had managed, voice slightly shaky. "I thought you guys wanted to ask me some questions."

"That's what we're going to do, yes," Blauer had answered. "Simply put, well… my colleague Dryer and I had a… disagreement, you could say. We'll proceed with your interrogation… elsewhere."

Pacifica had dug her nails into the car seat to keep herself from trembling. She'd survived the freakin' Apocalypse, she could surely deal with a few obnoxious ruffians… right?

"Fine," she had managed. "I don't care either way."

They had driven into the forest outside of town, only to arrive at a secluded motel. Pacifica noted with some trepidation that the parking lot was filled with black cars with tinted windows. Her stomach lurched; were there no one here save for these governmental goons?

Several men and women in black suits stood watch as Pacifica was escorted out of the car. She could not quite hide her dismay as Blauer and her other two captors brought her to an empty room.

"Where's everyone else?" she asked Blauer. "The clients, the owner? Did you…?"

"Requisition the whole place? Of course we did. It's not my first rodeo, kid. You and your little friends aren't the first ones to get in the way of doing our duty."

"Duty?" Pacifica scoffed. "How are you helping anyone right now?"

"You'd be surprised," Blauer said. "I've seen my fair share of weird crap in my line of work. And my fair share of idiots. Do you know what happens you combine those two things? Precious time being wasted. Propriety damage. Innocent people being hurt or even killed."

"You've got your priorities in order, I see," Pacifica said, frowning.

A muscle jumped by the corner of Blauer's mouth. Still, he found enough composure to feign a smile. "Get some rest, young lady. You'll answer all of our questions tomorrow, won't you?"

Pacifica bit down her lip. "Alright. I'll tell you what I know. Now, get out. I don't want you creep watching me sleep."

"Good. Sleep tight, Ms. Northwest."

To her great relief, Blauer and the other man exited the room, leaving Pacifica only with the female agent to guard her. The woman sat into a sofa and inspected her phone as Pacifica slid under the bedcovers. She hid her face in her pillow and allowed herself a few tears, before finally drifting to sleep.

Pacifica was startled awake a few hours later by the sound of someone slamming a door.

She sprang from her bed, panting. The agent keeping watch abruptly sat straight in her sofa; clearly, she'd dozed off as well. Standing in front of the closed door was Blauer. He seemed out of breath—and out of his mind with anger. Pacifica noticed belatedly that other noises came from outside the room. Were people shouting?

"S-Sir?" the agent lady said, blinking at Blauer. "What's going on?"

"What are you doing?!" Blauer barked at her. "Don't just sit there, come and help me!"

The woman scrambled out of her seat, while Pacifica jumped out of bed. Before she could reach the door, Blauer whirled toward her, pointing an accusing finger at her face.

"Don't you dare leave this room, young lady," he growled. "I'm not in the mood to—"

Pacifica didn't let him finish his sentence. She pushed at him and rushed out of the door, escaping his grasping hands. Chaos seemed to rage in the parking lot; the agents were in a panic, fighting against one or several unseen enemies. Pacifica didn't care to learn what was happening; she only continued to run, heading for the woods behind the motel.

It wasn't exactly one of her best ideas. She could barely see the tip of her nose in this darkness, and the nightly chill raised goosebumps on her bare arms. Still, she did not stop; Blauer was in hot pursuit, screaming invectives at the top of his lungs.

Soon enough, Pacifica was tripping over a root. Before she could catch her breath and get up, someone grabbed her arm, dragging her to her feet. Pacifica could see Blauer's face twisting hatefully in the glare of his flashlight.

"You little brat!" he snarled. "You're going to tell me what's going on right now!"

"I don't even know what's happening!" Pacifica cried, kicking at him. "Let me go! You're hurting me!"

"Don't you dare lie to me, you little—argh!" Blauer suddenly dropped Pacifica. In the dim lighting, she saw something hanging from his arm. She could also hear a low, angry growl coming from the creature fastened to Blauer's limb. "What the hell?! Get it off me, get it off!"

Pacifica grabbed the flashlight, gasping when she finally realized what—or rather, who—it was. "Llama?!" she cried. "What… what are you doing here?!"

In a violent motion, Blauer managed to rip the creature's jaw from his arm. He flung the llamasaur aside with a scream of rage; poor Llama hit a tree trunk, dropping to the ground with a high-pitched wail.

"No!" Pacifica shrieked, rushing to her pet's side. "You monster, how dare you, how dare you!"

"What is that thing?!" Blauer screamed. "That… that's not normal! None of you freaks are! What is wrong with this stupid town?!"

He advanced toward Pacifica, hand raised to strike. She shielded the llamasaur with her body, paralyzed with fright.

And then Pacifica heard a strange noise—the sound of a wooden object being broken, accompanied by a discordant twang. Blauer's hateful grimace slackened, and he fell forward, face in the mud. Behind him, holding the remains of a banjo, was McGucket.

"Oh, Lord," he said, panting like he'd been running a marathon. "We got here in time…"

"Pacifica!" Soos rushed from behind the old man, embracing the girl. The latter simply stared over his shoulder, stiffening at the touch. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm not the one you should be worried about!" Pacifica replied, pushing him away to check on the llamasaur. The creature gave an appreciative purr, nuzzling at her hand. "Are you okay, sweetie? That jerk didn't hurt you too bad, did he?" He licked her hand, and she gave a sigh of relief as she buried her face into his woollen neck. "Oh, thank goodness!"

"No!" Soos brought both of his hands over his mouth, before glaring at Agent Blauer, still lying insensate in the mud. He gave the agent's body a kick. "That's for stealing my house, dude! And for kidnapping Pacifica and hurting the llamasaur!"

McGucket held out his hand toward Pacifica. "Ya sure yer alright, kiddo? We were all so worried…"

"What?" Pacifica scoffed. "Everyone, being worried about me? What kind of nonsense is that?"

"Why wouldn't we be worried? They coulda hurt ya." McGucket looked at the ground, suddenly contrite. "An' it woulda be mah fault."

"Your fault?" He would have told Pacifica the moon was made of cheese, and she wouldn't been as surprised. "Why?"

"'Cause yer mah responsibility, aren'tcha? Ya live under mah roof, ya eat mah food. Ah gotta provide for you."

"You provide for me because my parents pay rent," Pacifica said. "You don't owe me anything."

McGucket blinked. "They're supposed ta pay me?"

"My parents aren't giving you money?" Pacifica said, almost at the same time. "But then… who's paying for my room and board?"

"Why, no one!" said McGucket.

"But that means… you're paying for my food! A-And you're letting me stay at your house for free!"

McGucket exchanged a glance with Soos. The handyman only shrugged, looking as clueless as the old man.

"Well, of course!" said McGucket. "Yer a growing girl, ya need to be fed, ain'tcha? Ah wouldn't just kick ya out in the streets, yannow? Kids oughta have grown-ups to provide fer 'em 'til they're ready to strike on their own. Tha's jus' how things should be."

Pacifica choked out a sob. She smothered the emotion bubbling in her chest before it could show. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

McGucket smiled. "Why not? Someone needed to do it, an' Ah guess it was me."

This time, Pacifica could not stop her body from shaking. She turned her face away so he would not see her crying. When all of this was over, she would have a long conversation with her parents. One that would include child service and possibly a lawyer or two.

"Aw, dudes," Soos said, wiping a tear off his eye. "Your reunion is cute an' all, but shouldn't we get going? The others might need our help."

"The others?" Pacifica said.

As if on cue, she heard a loud boom, followed the screech of twisted metal. Both Soos and McGucket startled, before sharing a sheepish look. Pacifica quirked a brow at them.

"What was that?" she said.

McGucket laughed nervously. "Dunno! Guess young Soosie is right. We really should checkin' on the girls, right?"

Pacifica heard a few more screams. There were lights flashing from the direction of the motel.

"From the looks of it, it seems we should be worrying about the agents and not Wendy and the others," Pacifica said dryly.

McGucket's grin grew a little feral. "Oh, fer sure!"

The plaza in front of the temple was packed with the faithful of the Eye of Dawn.

Ford and the twins made their way through the crowd with great difficulty, wearing hooded robes to be "sneaky sneaks," in Mabel's eloquent words. People kept whispering among themselves, uneasily watching the grey-robed guards standing on the stage where the sermon would soon be given.

"D'you think that Tappaz guy is going to speak soon?" Mabel whispered to Ford.

"That's what it looks like," Ford replied.

She grinned. "Then we gotta get you up there real quick so you can steal his thunder!"

"Is this really a good idea?" Dipper said. "Maybe we should find another way into the temple…"

"Are you doubting my flawless, brilliant plan, brobro?" Mabel said, elbowing her brother in the ribs.

"I don't know, Mabel." Dipper looked up at Ford. "Do you feel up to it, Grunkle Ford?"

"No," Ford answered, truthfully, "but we don't have much choice, do we? I'm willing to do what it takes to save Stanley."

Mabel pushed him forward. "Alright! Break a leg out there!"

Ford's heart gave a skip as he approached the steps leading to the stage. He scanned the crowd, first finding Zuri and her brother standing not far from the twins, then the towering form of Yaspa. She gave him a curt nod; everything was in place, then. Ford could set in motion the first part of their plan.

The guards faced Ford as he made his way up to the stage. "You can't be here," said the one closest to him. Behind him, his two colleagues raised their spears in a threatening manner, prompting a series of worried whispers from the crowd.

Ford held up his hands. "Oh, I have every right to be standing on this stage. You see, I…" He fought to keep himself from grimacing. Well, here goes…

He tossed aside his cloak, as dramatically as he could. Mabel had been adamant on this point. "Channel some of Grunkle Stan's spirit!" she'd told him. "I know you can do it! I believe in you!"

Ford struck a pose, making sure the crowd got a good look at his current outfit—the multicoloured horror the Eye of Dawn had once forced him to wear. "…I am the hero destined to bring about the coming of dawn!"

His proclamation was followed by exclamations of surprise from the crowd. The guards stopped in their tracks, exchanging what was probably a look of confusion. It was hard to tell with those stupid masks.

"That's…" said the one next to Ford. "But I wasn't told…" He turned to his fellow guardsmen. "That's not something Lord Tappaz authorized!"

"Oh, just think of me as a…" Ford winced; he wished he had just one tenth of his brother's ability to spew utter bullshit right now. "A surprise guest speaker?"

In spite of their masks, Ford could feel the guards' suspicion. He hadn't fooled them, not for one bit. Still, they couldn't throw him off the stage, not while the crowd was watching with bated breath. Ford opened his mouth to continue.

And found himself unable to speak.

It wasn't as if he'd never given a speech in front of a large audience before. A few shouting matches in college had eroded the last bit of his childhood shyness, after all. Yet, he'd never been a one to spin yarns for his own benefit. That was all Stan's game. Ford had the charisma of a mudskipper.

The silence that swept across the crowd didn't help. Out the corner of his eye, he could see the closest of the grey-robed guards making his approach. Ford had to come up with something or else—

Someone grabbed Ford's hand, startling him. "Yes!" Mabel was saying beside him. "He's the one you've all been waiting for! Look at him, clad in the garb of the fabled hero! Isn't he dashing?"

The audience responded with confused murmurs (one young voice even exclaimed, "But he's old!"). Mabel was undeterred by their less than enthusiastic reception, however. "Yes, yes, it's true! He's here to defeat a great evil and save the day!"

This time, there were gasps aplenty. "What great evil?" someone shouted, while another cried, "Save the what?"

Mabel looked up at Ford, slightly tugging at his hand. "But to accomplish his mission…"

Ford offered her a decisive nod. "But to accomplish my mission, I need your help!" he exclaimed. "It's urgent that I get to the Temple of Dawn. Please, I would like for you good people to—"

"Get off this stage this instant, you phony!" a familiar voice screeched.

A certain yellow-robed man had climbed up the stage, surrounded by more guards. Tappaz jabbed an accusatory finger toward Ford and Mabel.

"Arrest this man!" he ordered. "He's not what he says he is! We can't let him get to the Temple of Dawn!"

There were more confused mutters from the audience. "What is he, then?" a man yelled.

"You told us he would be our saviour!" someone else added. "You showed us his picture and everything!"

"He's not our saviour!" Tappaz bellowed, earning himself a few frowns from the crowd. He certainly looked more deranged than usual. "Far from it! Stop him, stop him right now!"

Mabel peered up at Ford. "Grunkle Ford—"

"Get to safety," Ford told her. "I'll handle this, don't worry, my dear."

The moment she rushed off the stage, the guards charged at Ford, ready to skewer him with their spears. People screamed in the audience. Ford stood his ground, reaching for something in his discarded robe. A mere second before the first energy spear made a kebab out of him, Ford leaped in the air.

And the crowd went wild.

"He's flying!" someone exclaimed.

"That's not magic! How does he do that?!"

"Mom, Mom! Can I ask him to teach me how to do that?!"

Ford grinned; thousands of faces were watching him in wonder and excitement, and that made him giddy like a little boy.

"Ro-cket boots, ro-cket boots!" Ford could hear Mabel chanting in the distance. He found her face in the crowd, and addressed her a salute. She cheered in response, prompting the people around her to do the same.

Ford landed on the stage in a crouching position, twin guns at the ready. The crowd's applause grew even louder. Around him, the grey-robed guardsmen hesitated; one of them was even shaking.

"What are you waiting for?!" Tappaz shrieked. "Get him!"

One guard did as Tappaz ordered, running toward Ford. With a smirk, Ford surged to the side, firing two stunning charges. One hit his attacker right in the chest, while the other knocked a second grey-robed man off his feet. A third guardsman lunged at Ford, somewhat desperately. Ford twisted on his spot, kicking at him with a rocket-powered boot. The crowd erupted into cheers as the man flew off the stage, arms flailing.

"You incompetents!" Tappaz screamed at the two remaining guards. "He's just one man! What are you doing?!"

In response, one of the guardsmen yelped and dropped his weapon, scampering away from Ford. His comrade, however, stood his ground. Ford lowered his guns, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows. The man fell for Ford's taunt instantly, charging at him with a bellow.

Ford simply lifted himself from the ground, shrugging for maximum cockiness. The man skidded off the stage, his angry yell turning into a panicked scream. Ford made a slow descent back to the stage, punctuating the end of his flight with a curtsey. Laughter flared from the audience.

Only Tappaz remained. By now, the yellow-robed priest had been reduced to incoherent screams. With harsh, jerky motions, he drew a sigil in the air, foam nearly forming at his mouth. Several people gasped as they realized what the man was planning. More of them screamed when a ball of flame erupted from his hands.

In a fluid, nonchalant manner, Ford threw a piece of cloth in the air. A blue symbol flared in front of him, and the fireball bounced off an invisible shield, abruptly changing course.

Or, more precisely, going back to its original owner.

"Argh!" Tappaz flung himself to the ground in an attempt to keep his robes from catching fire. It didn't stop the flames from spreading elsewhere, however. "My hair, my hair!" When the man finally stumbled back to his feet, half of his precious mane was charred black or missing.

"I'm sorry," Ford said to him, genially. "It's just… you really shouldn't have attacked me, you know? Are you willing to cooperate, now? I really don't want to hurt anyone else…"

Tappaz puffed out his cheeks, raising an accusatory finger toward Ford. A long-drawn sound, much like the noise of a deflating balloon, escaped his closed mouth.

Then, he turned tail and fled.

A sizable silence hung over the crowd. Someone coughed. Dipper and Mabel climbed up the stage, taking place beside Ford. He offered his audience a wavering grin. Eventually, Ford was met with smiles—unsure at first, then full of hope. Ford's grin grew bigger, and—

FWOOOSH!

Mabel cried out, squeezing her uncle's hand for support. Ford himself had nearly fallen off his feet from the shockwave coming from behind. He felt the air on his arms standing on end. Dipper held onto his hat as if something was pulling it into the sky.

Ford whirled on his feet, and his heart leaped into his throat. A pillar of blue light came from the Temple of Dawn, piercing the twilight and dispelling the purple gloom.

"Is that the light of the sun?" a woman shouted in delight.

"The sun, the sun!" others responded.

"It's all true! This man brought the dawn!"

"He's really our prophesized saviour!"

The blood has drained from Dipper's face. "Oh boy. This doesn't look good. Grunkle Ford, what's going on?"

"The portal," Ford whispered. "They must have activated it."

"Why?" Dipper said, half-panicked. "They've already got Grunkle Stan, haven't they? Why would they need the portal?"

Ford grimaced. "We need to get going. Now."

"Alright, everyone!" Mabel exclaimed, punching in the air. "Let's save Grunkle Ford's twin!"

"What's a twin?" someone called out.

"Isn't it some kind of monster?" another added.

"No, no, no!" said Mabel. "Twins are magical, mystical beings beloved by the Lord of Twilight. My Grunkle Ford is a twin, see? That's why he's special."

Ford quirked a brow at his niece. She only fluttered her lashes innocently.

"The Lord of Twilight?" an old woman said. "He's still around?"

"They do say he's is the god of twins, isn't he? Always wondered what it meant..."

"So, he's the chosen of the Lord of Dawn and the Lord of Twilight?"

Ford cleared his throat, hoping they would not see him blushing. "Ah, well, in truth, I am…" He stopped and gave a sigh. "In truth, I'm no one's chosen. I'm not the man who will change the world. I'm just… someone who wants to save his twin. And to do that, I need your help. Please."

"He's right," a new voice said. Yaspa had climbed to the stage as well, followed by her two blue-skinned acolytes. "His twin is not the only one who is a captive of the Eye of Dawn. They've also taken my wife and those children's parents. They've also taken many others. Including our fair Oracle, Jheselbraum." Her words stunned the people into silence. Hundreds of eyes filled with horror were fixed on her as she continued, "A number of you might know someone who's gone missing. They might have fallen prey to the Eye of Dawn. You might have lost hope of ever finding those loved ones again. I know I did! But now…" She offered Ford a genuine smile. "Well, I'm ready to trust in the future again."

"I know we ask a lot of you," Ford added. "I know it's hard to accept that someone has been taking advantage of your devotion." He swallowed nervously. "I could probably write a book about the subject. So, please. Just this once, trust us."

An eternity seemed to pass. Mabel was squeezing Ford's hand so hard his knuckles were probably going white. Dipper hopped from foot to foot, biting down his lower lip.

"Why didn't you just say so?" a woman eventually shouted.

"Yeah!" a man added. "We'll help you save your twin! Whatever a twin is, I mean!"

"I knew there was something weird going on with those guys! Let's get those phonies!"

"Let's rescue the Oracle!"

Something resembling hope bubbled in Ford's chest. Mabel bounced up and down, giggling all the while. Dipper looked like he was ready to collapse in relief.

"You did it, Grunkle Ford!" Mabel said.

"I did it?" he said, amused. "I wouldn't have gotten anywhere if not for your flawless plan and top-notch persuasion skills. You're on your way to become a more dangerous version of your uncle Stan. I say more dangerous because you're actually charming, while Stan, well…"

"Wouldn't know charming even if it hit him in the face with a stick?" Mabel completed with a disarming smile.

"Exactly. You've weaponized your cuteness."

"Tee-hee!" Mabel said, poking at both cheeks with her fingers. "My nefarious strategy has been exposed!" She poked him in the ribs. "And admit it, the outfit helped. The power of fashion compelled them to believe you!"

Ford scrunched up his nose. "Yes, yes, well, now that it is all said and done, I'm getting out of that wretched thing." He had just exposed his hairy old man legs to a crowd of strangers, and he wasn't exactly pleased with that fact. Stan would have laughed himself hoarse if he knew.

Would laugh himself hoarse, Ford promised himself. They would save Stanley, and Ford and his brother would look back on those dark times with a grin over a glass of whisky.

With this oath fresh in mind, Ford marched toward the Temple and its shining pillar, the children close at his heel.

The glare of the spotlights was blinding, dizzyingly so. Laughter erupted from everywhere, rippling in the air in maddening echoes. The figures in the bleachers pointed at the man standing in the boxing ring below, grins slashing across their shadowed features. Stan wilted under their scrutiny, taking a step backward, hands dropping uselessly at his sides.

In front of him, Ford's double still had his gun raised.

"Not one more step," the doppelganger said, through grit teeth. "You'll die before I let you hurt a single hair on their head."

The fake Wendy twirled her axe in one hand. "I vote we still take him out. It's the only way to make sure the freak won't murder us in our sleep."

"C'mon, you guys," Stan said. "You know I wouldn't—"

"How could you?" Mabel said, between hiccups. "We trusted you!"

"It can't have been all fake…" Soos sounded as if he could barely believe the events unfolding in front of his eyes. "All those years, everything he did for us… it can't have been all fake, right?"

"Of course it's all fake," Dipper added, each word like a curse. In his arms, Mabel gave another sob. "That's what he does. Lie and cheat. He already pulled this con on us, remember? Pretending to be someone else? It's just more of the same bullshit!"

"No, no, no," Stan said. He held up his hands, taking a step forward. "Listen, I'm—"

There was a loud deflagration, and Stan's world flashed white with pain. He grabbed at his shoulder; under his trembling fingers, there was now a circular, sizzling wound.

"Next one goes through your skull," Ford enunciated, very calmly.

Stan shook his head, a sob catching at his throat. "C'mon… I don't wanna fight. I know none of you are real, but…"

"Oh, nooo!" a voice gloated in the distance. Bill was sitting on the edge of his throne, clearly enjoying the show. "D'you hear that, folks?! Our brave hero is already throwing in the towel!"

Once more, the audience was seized with hilarity. Stan felt like he was shrinking in the heat of their stares.

You want to give up? a soft voice sounded next to Stan's ear. Frills was floating around his head, in his pink salamander form. You struggled so hard just to get here...

Stan looked up at him, despairingly. The words just stuck in his throat.

If you want, I can guide you out of here. You won't accomplish what you set out to do, but at least you won't have to fight your family, right?

"What I set out to do…" Stan croaked, eyes fixed on the twisted version of his family. "What I came here for…"

"Ooh, they're my family, I can't hurt them!" Bill kept crowing. The demon wiped fake tears from his eye. "I don't hit children, I'm not like my daddy!"

Frills looked toward Bill. His simple features showed what appeared to be a frown. He's acting strangely, isn't he? Why doesn't he want to fight you himself?

"C'mon!" said the fake version of Wendy. "Let's get this guy!"

And she surged forward, swinging her axe at Stan's head. He managed to evade her assault, only to feel a fist colliding with his nose.

Soos' hands went to his mouth as Stan gingerly touched the blood pouring from his nose.

"Oh, no!" the young man cried. "I'm sorry, Mister—"

Stan stumbled away, just in time; Wendy's axe swooshed next to him, nearly taking a chunk of his face in the process.

"Don't apologize!" she screamed. "There's no Mr. Pines! There's never been!" She was crying. Stan had never seen Wendy cry, never. "You… you piece of shit! How could you do that to us?!"

"N-No…" Stan said. "Soos, Wendy, I don't wanna—"

Wendy took another swing at him. Out of pure reflex, Stan stepped to the side, accidentally tripping her with his foot. She fell down face first with a curse, while Dipper and Soos screamed her name.

It was like being dipped in ice-cold water. "I didn't…" Stan stammered. "I didn't mean to do that, no, no, I'm sorry—"

Tiny hands were pummelling at him. "You leave her alone!" Mabel shrieked. Soon, her brother was hurling himself at Stan as well, screaming in inept rage.

Stan pushed them away, feeling sick to his stomach. He knew they were only figments of Bill's twisted imagination, he knew they weren't real. He knew that it was all just a blatant attempt to break his spirit and twist the knife in the metaphorical wound.

And yet…

"I don't want to hurt any of you," he kept telling those fake versions of the kids, his kids. "C'mon, please…"

The crowd found his distress highly amusing. Bill wasn't laughing, but he seemed utterly engrossed by the events unfolding in front of him. The demon was sporting the distinct look of a child who was using a magnifying glass to burn insects on a sidewalk.

Stan pushed a little too hard, and Dipper fell, his head hitting the ground with a upsetting noise. The other children rushed to surround him. Mabel wept over her brother's body.

Something came into view, and Stan all but welcomed the blow.

It was the butt of a pistol, he realized dimly. Stan fell like a stone, blood and tears mingling on his cheeks. Ford was standing above him, laser gun pointed at Stan's face.

"This is the last time you'll hurt me, or any of the people I care about," Ford said, voice shaking. "This is the last time I'll let you have any hold on my life!"

Stan looked into the barrel of the gun. He closed his eye, accepting Ford's judgment.

In the distance, Bill Cipher laughed. "Welp. We'll see about that, won't we, Fordsie?"

And with those words, everything returned to Stan's mind crystal clear.

The reason why he'd come back here. The reason he'd sacrificed everything last summer, the reason why he kept chasing fights with that thrice-damned demon.

With those words came another realization that nearly made Stan laugh out loud.

That stupid salamander was right. Why had Bill Cipher not chosen to join the fight? The reason was so simple, so dumb. Stan felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. He wiped the blood from his nose, a maddened chuckle escaping his mouth.

"Hey, Ford…" he told the greyscale version of his brother. "D'you think you could make rocket-powered boots for me one day?"

The fake Ford only glared, cocking his gun.

"Heh." Stan offered a lazy grin to the weapon pointed at his face. "The real Fordsie would be over the moon at the idea of making rocket-powered boots. Who's a bad copy now?"

The creature frowned, not knowing that it had just spelled its doom. Its finger moved to pull the trigger of its gun.

And only bubbles came out.

Stan quirked a brow. "It's my mindscape here, 'member? I make the rules, sucka." And he clicked his heels together.

A pair of heavy metallic boots appeared on Stan's feet. They propelled him away from Ford's doppelganger, mere seconds before the creature fired his gun again. Stan soared in the air, away from Bill's twisted puppets.

And toward the smug-ass bastard himself.

"Wait, what—" Bill began, mere moments before Stan's fist collided with his jaw.

The blow knocked the demon out of his eyesore of a throne. In fact, the structure itself exploded into mist, as did the boxing ring and the bleachers below. Gone were the ruins surrounding them; even the raging fires went out, snuffed out like the flickering of a dying candle.

The only thing that remained was a great white emptiness—much like the one that had filled Stan's mind last summer, when he'd trapped and killed Bill Cipher.

Stan landed with a 'thud!' and a self-satisfied snort. Bill Cipher lay sprawled on the ground, rubbing his jaw.

"So I was right," Stan said. "All of this… it was just you making yourself seem stronger than you really are. We're in my mindscape. You said it yourself, you're just an itty-bitty part of that nacho demon. You don't have any of his powers. You're nothing at all."

"Took you long enough to figure it out," Bill said. "You're less slow on the uptake than Fordsie." He managed a sleazy smile. "Then again, considering who you really are, it's not so surprising."

The demon looked up at Stan. The shadows had gone from Bill's face, leaving only familiar features—features that Stan saw every time he looked in a mirror.

That revelation should have struck Stan with numb. It should have filled him with dread. He should have run away screaming, he should have broken down into tears.

Instead, Stanley Pines only felt as ancient and weary as the world itself.

"They'll hate you," said the demon with Stan's face, teeth stained with blood. "Your so-called family. What I just showed you… well, it's just a preview of what's waiting for you out there, isn't it? You've broken their precious trust, and they'll never forgive you for it."

"So what?" Stan said. "You really thought all this shit would scare me, don'tcha? You thought I'd just give up. You're forgettin' something, ya freak. I'm old. I've been through a lot of crap. I'm used to getting my hopes up for nothin'." Stan sighed; he felt so, so very tired. "My life's been a series of disappointments. What's one more's gonna do, right?"

He grabbed the demon by the collar. Bill's smirk grew wider. "You're doing this for nothing. They'll hate you, and—"

"You don't get it, do you? I don't care," Stan added, somewhat softly. Some of the sadness weighting on his shoulders seemed to be directed at Bill Cipher. It was a strange thing to realize. "You've never loved anyone, haven't you? Of course not. Else you'd understand where I'm coming from."

Bill flared his teeth at him. "Don't presume to know me, you low-grade knockoff."

"Right," said Stan. "Keep telling yourself that, buddy."

Oh! said a familiar voice. Frills was swaying about in the great white space. I get it now! I understand why you came back!

Bill's single eye found the creature. He went slack in Stan's grip, mouth hanging open.

"You… you idiot!" the demon shrilled. "Why did you bring him here?!"

Stan exchanged a glance with Frills. The salamander just wiggled his tail a little.

"What, you're scared of him?" Stan said, snorting.

"Don't you know who that is?! Why he followed you here?!"

Stan shrugged. "I don't really care either way. Seems like you don't like him much, so I guess he's okay in my book."

Aw! said Frills. That's such a nice thing to say! People usually hate me, you know! They call me nasty names. His red mouth formed a pout. No one ever invites me to parties…

"Don't let him come any closer!" Bill screeched. "Get him away from me!"

"Nah," said Stan. "I think you're the one who'll be going, pal."

The demon tried to wrestle himself from Stan's grasp, wiggling like a panicked snake. Soon, however, the screams coming out of his mouth devolved to laughter. Demented laughter.

The kind you'd hear from someone who had nothing to lose.

"What's one disappointment is going to do, indeed!" Bill said, between guffaws. His eye was even filling with tears. "Here's one you didn't expect! Enjoy being dead, buddy!"

Stan's mind went blank as the demon turned to dust in his hands. "Wait, what?"

And before he could make any sense of Bill Cipher's last words, something yanked him backward.

Stan's stomach lurched painfully as he found himself floating in a large, circular hall. Behind him stood a terrifyingly familiar mechanical device. The mouth of the portal showed a void filled with stars, while a dizzying array of colours bled at its edges.

At the base of the portal, there was a rectangular metallic surface. On the table, restrained by shackles, was the body of a man. Half of his face was swollen, dirty with dry, caked blood.

Stan felt all thought vacating from his brain. "No… no, no, no…"

I guess they managed to separate the bit of your original essence from the rest of your soul, a voice said next to Stan. Frills had accompanied him out of the mindscape. Gone was the dopey grin and the eyes glistening with good humour. This strange creature was as enormous as the portal looming behind them. His presence made Stan feel as small and insignificant as a little child.

Seems like they're trying to do the same to every version of you across the multiverse. That way, they can gather every part of the one you call Bill Cipher.

Stan stared dully into the creature's black eyes, his mind still drawing a blank. "W-What?"

That's what I think, anyway. I'm not familiar with that kind of procedure. They ejected your soul when they didn't need it anymore. That's when I felt you calling me.

"I don't…" said Stan. "I don't remember calling you…"

It's not the first time, too. I came to you a few years ago, but you turned me away. You must have changed your mind.

None of Frills' ramblings made any sense to Stan. "What… what the hell are you talking about?"

Thirty-two years ago, in that alleyway in Chicago. Don't you remember? Frills tilted his head at Stan. You wished for death, so I came.

"Wait, wait, wait," said Stan. "You're… you're a god of death…"

Yes? Frills seemed confused. Didn't I tell you about it?

Stan shook his head. "No… no, no, hell no… if you're a god of death, then the reason you came for me…"

Oh, yes, Frills said, a bit too cheerfully. Your body had started to shut down. Your spirit has been out of your physical form for just a bit too long, you see! That's why you're slipping away right now. And that's why I came to fetch you. 'Cept you decided to rush back to your mind. That was weird, you know. Usually, people stay dead when they die!

"No," said Stan, ever so softly. "No, no, no…"

Frills gave him a loopy smile. The psychedelic lights of the portal shone around his pink head like a halo. Yet the star-studded void beckoning behind him seemed ever so cold.

So, said Xolotl, god of monsters and death, are you ready to go, Stanley Pines?