"Yes, your children are safe." Stan paced back and forth as he spoke on the phone, stopping from time to time to smile at Dipper and Mabel. "Don't worry about it, they're mostly unharmed."
Mabel shook her head. "No, don't mention the bite! Mom'll freak out."
"Ahem, completely unharmed. And that lady's locked up, so there's really no need to send them home. You could say the only thing she's murdering from now is cereal, heh... sorry, that was too soon. I understand. Of course I'm taking this seriously!" He huffed, putting a hand on his hip. "Listen, it's perfectly safe here, and the kids want to stay. Now I gotta talk to some builders, so, I dunno, call me sometime later if you're still worried. Love you too, bye!"
Dipper grinned. "So we get to stay?"
"Your folks are thinking it over. I hope so!" He patted Mabel's shoulder. "How's your hand, pumpkin?"
"It's okay! I can click my wrist now, listen!"
"Mabel, please don't-" Dipper cringed. "Ugh, she's doing it again."
"Cl-ick, cl-ick, cl-ick!"
"Please stop."
Stan ruffled his niece's hair. "Hah, I will never understand you, kid. Now go play a video game, or whatever; I've gotta talk to some guys about my kicked-down door. You two stay out of trouble!"
He left, and Dipper turned to his sister. "How about Burnout?"
"You're on!"
Dipper switched on the television, and it went straight to news.
...transporting Jane Smith to an undisclosed prison as we speak. She will await trial from there. I'm Sandra Jimenez, reporting on our only story.
Mabel blinked. "Do you think she'll escape, like in the movies?"
"I doubt it." He crossed his arms, letting out a bark of laughter. "Haha, so much for, so much for 'see you in a week', right Mabel?"
"Yeah! Cl-ick, cl-ick!"
"Seriously, that's disgusting."
"What's disgusting, dudes?" Soos came in, holding a wet plunger. "Because I was just cleaning the bathroom and phew, I don't know how tourists make so much mess. And the smell, too!"
"Cl-ick!"
Dipper groaned. "I'm going to throw up."
"Anyway, how are you two doing? Stan told me all about last night; sounds crazy!"
They both nodded.
"So what's the plan for today? Any crazy adventures? Wait, wait, lemme guess: kidnapping a boy band?"
"Actually, we were just gonna play Burnout. We can hook up a spare controller, if you wanna join us."
"I love Burnout! Let's do it, dawg!"
"Okay, just... put away the plunger first."
"Cl-ick!"
"And stop doing that, Mabel."
That night, Stan tossed and turned in his bed. Sleep evaded him; all he could think about how wrong he'd been about his guest. She was a serial killer, and he just let her sit next to his grandkids! He'd been around the world and met more than his share of shady characters; he should have known, should have woken up, should've taken his grandkids and ran, should've, should've, should've...
But he didn't. Instead he glued a bunch of his stuff down and fell asleep in the living room. He was losing his edge, and he knew he'd need it back before it was too late.
See you in a week.
Prison hadn't stopped Stan's enemies before, and he wasn't going to count on it now. This wasn't over yet.
He rose from his bed, retrieving his glasses and grunting at a pain in his back. He cast a glance at the half-moon glaring down from outside his window – it was late, but it wasn't like he was going to bed anytime soon – and stood up, sticking his feet into slippers and walking out of his bedroom. He swiped a pair of brass knuckles off a dresser as he passed it.
Stan walked down the dark hallway, feeling the wall with one hand until he reached the attic. There he stopped, gently grasped the door handle and silently turned it, opening it until he could stick his head through.
Both the twins were there, and he sighed in relief. Mabel was cuddling Waddles, her injured hand draped across his plump body. Dipper was surrounded by books and papers, snoozing away in his everyday clothes.
He couldn't help but smile as he saw them peacefully sleeping; he loved them so, so much. Then he closed the door, and his smile dropped as he remembered.
See you in a week.
They were in danger. He almost wanted to phone up their parents and have Dipper and Mabel taken to safety, but the twins had begged him to stay; he couldn't break their hearts like that. It was up to him to keep them safe, and if any serial killer wanted to get to them, they'd have to get through Stan Pines first.
That night, Stan sat by their door, watching, waiting. He wouldn't screw up again.