This was originally longer, but I cut it in half. Have some slightly out of character Bill. Enjoy, and be sure to review!

Chapter 2 – Dodging the Problem

A week and a half later

"Grunkle Stan!"

Stanley grinned happily as a thirteen-year-old Mabel cannoned into his legs, almost knocking him over. He hadn't seen the twins since last summer, and it had been amazing to find out that they were staying with him again whilst their parents were on a business trip. Hopefully this summer would be less… eventful. Pssh, who was he kidding? Of course trouble would find them somehow.

"Mabel, Dipper," he chuckled, bending down to hug Mabel. "It's been too long, kids."

"It's great to see you, too, Grunkle Stan," Dipper smiled as he hauled his suitcase in behind him. "How are you and Great Uncle Ford?"

"We're doing fine. Ford almost passed out last month because he spent too long in the lab without sleeping, but other than that; he's alright."

"Well, he'd better not be a Mr. Snooze Recluse this summer," Mabel said. "I want to enjoy my stay with both of my Grunkles this year."

"That can be arranged. Come on, grab your things and take them to the attic. Just try to ignore the lodger in there."

At this, Dipper and Mabel both looked up at their great uncle in confusion. "The lodger?" Mabel repeated. "Who else is staying here?"

Stanley immediately blanched. "You might want to see for yourself. I can explain once Ford gets back. He's gone on one of his nerdy field trips again."

The twins looked dissatisfied, but luckily didn't press any further. Calling Waddles after her, Mabel darted inside with Dipper following, and Stan breathed a sigh of relief. He'd avoided having to explain Cipher's presence on his own.

Up in the attic, Mabel and Dipper were hastily unpacking their things when the former of the twins noticed something.

"When did Grunkle Stan get that upper level cleared out?" Mable asked, pointing up to the area of the attic in question. The one that had been crammed full of random junk the last time she'd been to the Mystery shack.

"I dunno," Dipper shrugged. "But it looks like some stuff for a bedroom's been moved up there. Maybe it's where the other guest is staying."

At this revelation, Mabel grinned. "Oooh! Maybe he's still up there!" she mused. "Do you think he's cute?"

"Mabel, you don't even know if he's anywhere near your age," Dipper deadpanned. "And he might not be all that sociable, y'know?"

Unsurprisingly, Mabel wasn't listening. She was already climbing up the short flight of stairs that lead up to the attic's upper level, where she saw a bed with pale, creamy yellow blankets on top placed in the corner, a small chest of drawers set beside said bed, and a rickety wooden chair at the foot of it. Sat on the bed; knees drawn up to their chest; was a skinny figure wearing a light blue t-shirt and black dress pants. A mop of gold hair obscured their face, and they appeared to be muttering something to themselves whilst one hand picked at the edge of a white plaster cast that encased their lower right leg.

"Hi!" Mabel suddenly yelled, having somehow made it from the top of the stairs to the edge of the newcomer's bed without being noticed. "I'm Mabel, what's your name?"

The stranger; a young boy, as it turned out; immediately screamed in horror and tried to scramble away, but only succeeded in falling off of the bed and landing painfully on the wooden floor; his rear making an ineffective cushion for the impact.

"Ow," he whined. "N-not funny."

"Hey, you alright?" Mabel asked. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Whining, the boy shook his head and shuffled away.

"Sorry about that. Here, let me help you," Mabel offered, holding out her hand. After a moment of staring at the appendage sceptically, the boy took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Or rather foot, since one leg was in the cast and he didn't seem happy about placing any weight on it.

"What's your name?" Mabel asked again.

"I'm-."

"Alright," Stan announced as he walked in. "I'm hoping you guys are-. Hey, Mabel; I thought I told you to ignore him."

"Aaw, come on, Grunkle Stan," Mabel protested, a cheeky smile on her face. "How can you ignore a face so adorable? I mean, look at him. Poor thing needs a hug."

With that said, she immediately hugged the strange boy, prompting a startled squeak from him. It was only now that Dipper noticed how thin he was. Mabel had her arms wrapped right around him with little effort.

"Jeez, summer romances again?" Stan grumbled. "Listen, Ford's back. He can explain why He's here." He shot the boy a stern look. "Come on, get your behinds downstairs into the kitchen."

Back in the kitchen, Ford was just pulling off his battered old coat and hanging it up by the door. His boots were splattered with mud, courtesy of the rain that had fallen the night before, several twigs were visibly caught in his messy hair, and a cut on his left cheek was slowly oozing with red blood that had only just started scabbing over.

"Note to self;" he muttered as he pulled out (the more or less complete) Journal #3 from its place on the shelf and opened it out to the page on gnomes, "gnomes are especially aggressive during summer months. Avoid them, unless you want to be turned into barbeque ribs. Something to do with a yearly festival."

"Finally, you're back!" Stanley exclaimed as he walked in. "The kids are here, and they're asking questions about… y'know."

"Oh. Where are they now?"

"Helping our 'guest' down the stairs. He left his crutches by the door. Again."

Upon hearing this, Ford rolled his eyes. "Ask them to come in here so I can talk to them. I've got to patch up my face. Damn thorns keep getting in the way when I'm running from angry gnomes."

"You know what? I ain't even going to ask. I'll get the kids, you can disinfect that cut."

Ford nodded in affirmation, and as Stanley went to hurry the kids up, he grabbed the first aid kit from beneath the sink. Opening it up, he pulled out some cotton wool and soaked it in disinfectant, rubbing it on his face until the wound was clean. Then he put a bandage over it to stop any dirt getting into it.

By the time he was done, Bill had hobbled into the kitchen behind Stan and the twins. The ex-demon bore an expression on his face that was a mix between annoyance and all-out depression; something that had been there a lot during his stay at the Mystery Shack. Clearly, the loss of his power had left him more than upset.

"Grunkle Ford!" Mabel exclaimed, rushing over and slamming into him in a hug. "Hey, how'd you hurt your face? Did something attack you again?"

"Gnomes," Stanford chuckled. "I had to high-tail away from them, and a bush got in the way."

At the mention of the gnomes, Mabel grimaced. "I don't wanna ask. Hey, who's' the new guy? Grunkle Stan said you'd tell us."

Immediately, Ford rolled his eyes. Typical Stan; trying to dodge trouble. "I see. Listen, you two might want to sit down for this."