Wow. Another month. Sorry again. Hopefully, I got a thank-you out to everyone who's reviewed and such, and for guests I can't send a message to- Thanks.

Man, I can't think of anything deep or profound tonight. Just thanks, guys. It means a lot.

I've decided that if I want to update anything else- other stories, new stuff, anything- I have to update this story that day, too. Hopefully it'll help.

Also, watch the shorts. All of them. They are wonderful and hilarious.

[]

I don't usually come up here. The attic is almost completely bare, the walls and floor nothing but rows of boards. Plus, the red light has always creeped me out.

But right now, it's perfect. I trudge over to the window, sitting down on the row of cushions. Finally, a place to be alone. Just to think. To-

"Hey, Dipper." Stan's gruff voice cuts through my thoughts. With a sigh, I look back to the stairway, where he's leaning on the railing and fiddling with his tie. "Everything, uh, okay?"

I stare him down. If he thinks we're gonna have some kind of bonding moment or whatever, he's got another thing coming. "Yeah. Just great."

He coughs. "Well. Good."

I pointedly turn away, examining the patterns on the window. I can hear him start to go back down the steps.

He stops. "Ah, what the heck." After a few seconds, he's sitting next to me, arms crossed on his knees. "What's goin' on, kid?"

Of course. Of course this would happen, the one time I don't want to talk to anyone. Much less him. I scowl. "I said it's fine."

Stan smirks. "No, I was 'fine' yesterday when I convinced some chucklehead to buy a haunted can opener." In spite of myself, I smile.

He doesn't ask again. I think that's the reason I actually open up. "We were exploring the library," I say slowly. "The closed-down one. Me, Wendy, and Mabel, and..."

I pause, halfheatedly knocking the wall with my fist. "I just wanted to find something, you know? I had this plan, and I was trying to get them to stay together, and they didn't listen to me at all, and-" I notice I'm rambling, and shake my head. "I got lost, even. They had to come back and find me."

"Huh." I glance over, noticing Stan's vacant look across the room. He blinks. "Just thought of somethin', but keep going."

I shrug. "That's pretty much it. I mean, I wanted to lead this cool expedition-" Did I really just say that? Why not call it an 'adventure' and basically sound like a six-year-old? "-Or whatever," I finish lamely.

I let my head fall back against the window, and my hat props up in the front. So I'm either a naive star-gazer, or a whining brat. 'Or whatever'. Brilliant.

Stan gets up. "Just a sec, kid."

I mean, it's not like anyone should have to care about my personal life. It's getting kind of tedious. I always end up blabbing about my problems to everybody, and they always act like it's no big deal.

He's rummaging through one of the boxes in the attic's corner. "Where'd I put that-"

But it shouldn't be that big of a deal, right? I mean, instead of always complaining and stuff, I should just go do. Yeah, I mess up sometimes, but... I don't know.

"Got it!" He's walking back, holding a book towards me. I gingerly take it, since it looks pretty old and fragile. "I was worried maybe I lost it."

Curious, I turn to the first page. It's some kind of photo album- I don't recognize anyone, though.

"Lemme just- there." Stan quickly flips a few pages, stopping near the back. He jabs his finger at the middle of the page. "Recognize 'im?"

The man is pushing a wheelbarrow, reaching forward in alarm, trying to keep something from falling out. It doesn't look like he knows the picture is being taken, and I can only see part of his face, but it's enough. "Isn't that Grandpa?"

"Yep." Stan looks at the photo fondly before gazing up at the ceiling, lost in memory. "How well'd you know him, kid?"

"Barely." I look through the other pages, but can't find him in anything else. "I only met him a few times before-"

He sighs. "Yeah. Lemme tell ya, Dip, he was... quiet. He was awfully quiet." Chuckling softly, he takes the album back. "I don't think he ever told someone else what to do in his life."

He walks back across the room. "He built this place, though."

"What?" Shocked, I raise my voice more than I mean to. "But- I thought you built the Shack!"

"Officially, yeah." Stan slides the book into the box. "My name's on the deed, and it was my idea and all. But he did a lot of the work. Probably more than me."

Frowning, I scratch my head. "And he... never told anyone?"

It's Stan's turn to shrug. "Didn't want the credit. But that's just the way my brother was." Sitting back down, he rests one hand on my shoulder. "He was a good man, Dip. He always helped anyone who needed it."

He waits until I'm looking him in the eyes. "But he wasn't a leader."

[]

"He was some kind'a SPECTRAL PHANTASM!"

If there's one thing I've learned working at the Shack, it's that people are willing to believe a lot. However, there is a line.

In fact, I'm listening to that line right now. McGucket's garbled yells are painfully high-pitched, but even if they weren't, I would have no idea what he's talking about.

Robbie shoulders people aside roughly, while I follow sheepishly through the crowd. Say what you will about this town, but there's never been much traffic. So it's not that out of place to see the old man in the middle of the road. But even from here, I can tell that people are starting to lose interest.

We finally make it to the front. He's wearing a floppy brown hat and slapping his knee repeatedly. "Ah been here ma whole life, an' I ain't never seen ANYTHIN' LIKE IT!" he shrieks, spinning quickly.

Robbie sighs. "Shoulda known."

I'm about to ask him what he means, but a short man with a fedora and a large mustache jumps forward, microphone in hand. "Well, hrm, what exactly did you see?"

McGucket stares vacantly in the man's direction, then splits into a gap-toothed grin. "An' what would YOU like for Christmas, little boy?!"

Robbie shakes his head in disgust, ignoring the reporter's indignant reply. "Think about it. He probably makes up stories like this all the time."

As if to prove his point, the old man was scratching his beard in response to the repeated question. "D'you know... I can't rightly 'member WHAT I saw!" He breaks into a guffawing laugh, hopping from one foot to the other, while the crowd grumbles angrily. A few people just leave.

"What?" I hold out my hands helplessly. "B-but he just said it! He's gotta remember something!"

Robbie snorts. "Don't count on it."

Before I know it, most of the original crowd is drifting away. McGucket is casually flipping the brim of his hat, closely eyeing it from different angles.

"Um, hey." I nervously step forward, and the old man suddenly springs forward, shoving the hat down over my own.

"Ow! What the-" Before I can get rid of it, he grabs it himself, jumping sideways with a cackle.

"Just kiddin'! So, you wanna hear about the DISAPPEARIN' PHENOMENON, isn't that right?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Well- yeah. I thought you didn't remember."

"I remember EVERYTHIN'." Leaning in close, he blinks one eye rapidly. "I just had'ta scare'em off; anyone could be their SPIES!"

"Whose spies?" Robbie demands. "What are you talking about?"

McGucket's eyes dart from side to side, as if making sure the coast is clear. "It's a hamjammer of a tale, t'be sure! There I was, jes' mindin' m'self, when suddenly I felt the ICY GRIP OF FEAR UPON MY SHOULDERS!" He seems to freeze, before shooting a glance behind him and shuddering. "Don' remember how they got me, but I was all a'slumber when I found m'self in some kinda shadowy cavern. An' there was a personage there, too- a fearsome TALL figure, all shrouded in the MYSTERIES of the NIGHT!"

I realize I'm actually holding my breath. "...Whoa," I say quietly. "Was there anyone there?"

"Hm! Human-folk and the like?" He twirls the edge of his beard like a lasso. "Nope! Don't reckon' I saw anyone like that!"

I turn to Robbie, but he's staring down at the road silently. "An' do y'know how I got out?" McGucket asks proudly. Getting no answer, he shrugs. "Neither do I!"

He flinches, staring up at the sky. "WHOOPS! Outta time!" he screeches. "Can't be late t'feed the goats!"

Robbie lunges for his arm, but he's already scrambled away, hollering and yelling as he runs down an alley. Startled, I dart after him.

"Hold up." Robbie hasn't moved.

"Come on!" I say incredulously. "We have to go after him."

He shakes his head. "I think we should go back. Doesn't look like he knows much more, and we gotta tell my dad."

It makes sense, but... "Yeah," I say quickly. "But he's the only one who's been there- wherever it is."

Robbie raises his eyebrows. "If he's telling the truth."

Neither of us moves, and I suddenly notice just how empty the streets are today. "Look, kid, we've got a choice here." Robbie folds his arms. "Two different ideas. If we're gonna keep working on this, we'll need to decide something."

"And what's that?"

"Who's gonna lead."

I pause. Waiting for a second, he continues. "If you wanna take point on this- accept responsibility for whatever we choose- then I'll go with it."

The other option is obvious enough that he doesn't say it. "As long as we agree it shouldn't be Gideon," I say with a half-smile.

He scoffs. "Wouldn't trust him with a grocery list, let alone something like this."

Chuckling, I look down to the street. In a way, it's not that complicated- do I think I'm ready for this? Am I the best option?

I don't know. I don't know, and I'm tired of wondering. I'm not going to play every possible outcome through my mind, and I'm not going to worry about what's weak or what's strong.

Looking back up, I put my hands in my pockets. "I think you should do it."

I can't tell what's in his gaze. Respect? At least it doesn't seem to be contempt. He nods after a while. "All right, then. Let's go back."

[]

Grandpa Pines (GrandPines?) is not canon in any way. Completely made up. (BUT IF HE WAS REAL THEY WOULD TOTALLY CALL HIM GRANDPINES.)