Figures; just a few weeks after recovering from pneumonia, I unexpectedly come down with the worst sore throat ever. Yesterday I actually splurged and bought a humidifier out of desperation to make the pain STOP.
But enough about me, behold-my glorious creation!
*Cue 'ta-dah!' sound effect*

"I'm going to find them," Ford finally announced.

It had been almost an hour since the group had gone out to round up the remaining members of the Zodiac, to say nothing of the fact that Ford had finished spray painting the image of Bill and the ten symbols surrounding him into Stan's floor, and there was still no sign of either Dipper or Soos. All his instincts (or paranoia, if you wanted to get technical about it) were screaming that something must have gone wrong.

Tossing the now-empty can of spray paint back to the emu, he checked to make sure he was wearing his gun-he was-and wondered if he should grab his shock gloves while he was at it, since you could never have too many weapons when dealing with Bill…but that would mean having to go down to the basement to get them, taking up even more time that they didn't have. He would just have to hope that his gun would be enough.

As he was heading for the door, his ears picked up a frantic set of footsteps pounding the floorboards behind him, and then Mabel charged ahead of him, brandishing her grappling hook.

Immediately Ford hooked the back of her sweater and hoisted her into the air.

"No."

"Grunkle Ford!" Mabel protested, kicking and squirming like a scruffed kitten.

"No. All of you are staying here until I return. Lock the door after me, and if anyone shows up check their-what did I just say, Stanley?!"

Stan half-twisted his body, which was already halfway through the window, and glared at Ford over the bat he was carrying. "Heck if I know. I kinda tuned you out after the part where you started tryna tell me I couldn't go out ta look for my nephew and handyman."

"We can't afford to split up the Zodiac anymore than we have to right now!" Ford spluttered. "And in case you've forgotten, he's my nephew too-"

"Yeah, and he's my brother!" Mabel snapped. "If you think I'm gonna just stay here when he might be in trouble, you're crazy!"

For some reason, the stubborn assertion of sibling loyalty caused a knot to tie itself in Ford's stomach, and his grip on her sweater loosened briefly before he managed to tighten it again.

He was just about to start voicing his counterarguments-more people leaving the safety of the house meant more potential targets for Bill, he had the most experience in actual battle out of all of them, he needed them to protect the Shack-when he saw Wendy leaning into his line of vision.

"Dude, just accept that you're gonna lose this argument," she said. "We can hold down the fort until you guys get back."

Ford glanced at his unbelievably stubborn family.

He glanced back at Wendy, who raised a meaningful eyebrow at him.

He made a sound of pure, unadulterated frustration between his teeth.

And then there was a sound of screeching tires outside, followed by the crash of the front door bursting open and a stampede of running feet. And then a familiar anxious voice calling, "Great Uncle Ford? Mabel? Anyone?!"

"Dipper!" Mabel finally slipped out of her sweater and ran to meet him in just her T-shirt and skirt.

Out of the corner of his eye Ford saw Stan's shoulders slump in visible relief, before he began trying to maneuver his body back through the window. Wendy went over and helped him squirm loose.

Half a minute later, the children stampeded into the room, accompanied by Soos and a young blonde girl who looked to be about Dipper and Mabel's age. All of them were covered in an assortment of twigs, scratches, and leaves, and looked as though they'd been running around in a strong wind.

Ford didn't know why, but something about the blonde filled him with an irrational sensation of immediate dislike.

As soon as he laid eyes on her, Stan shot her a look somewhere between confusion and annoyance, before turning to Dipper. "You brought the Northwest kid here? Seriously?"

Oh. That's why.

The aforementioned Northwest kid's face flushed angrily, but just as she was opening her mouth Dipper cut in, "She's got the llama symbol, Grunkle Stan. And she just sprayed Bill in the face with perfume, so she's definitely tough enough to handle this."

She blinked, and flushed again, but something about it seemed much less angry (it almost sounded like Mabel uttered a muffled squeal at that same moment, but since she was pulling her sweater back on at the same time it was probably just his imagination).

"Huh." Stanley's expression became a little more approving.

Despite himself, Ford also felt somewhat impressed; he hadn't realized someone from the Northwest family would have the courage to fight back against Bill like that (or, frankly, do their own dirty work).

And then it dawned on him what Dipper had just said.

"You encountered Bill?!"

Dipper finished pulling a twig out of his vest. "Yeah, but don't worry, Great Uncle Ford, we used the fact that he was a manotaur's body to lure him away with some beef jerky and trap him in a ravine! We've got at least a little time before he gets free, right?"

He looked so hopeful that despite his misgivings, Ford tried to smile reassuringly. "...Well done, my boy. But yes, we should probably get started on the ritual as soon as possible."

"Yeah, can we hurry this up, please?" the Northwest girl asked, in a very petulant voice. "I'm gonna be in hot water if my parents find out I'm in this-" she saw the looks Dipper and Mabel were giving her, and however she'd been about to refer to the Shack died on her tongue. "...If they find out I'm here."

Stan gave her a long, hard look, but finally shrugged and glanced at Ford. "If she starts talkin' smack about us or the house, ya think you can neuroparalyze her too?"

"If it truly becomes necessary."

"Uh, what are you gonna do to me?" the Northwest girl demanded.

"Nothing."

Ford did a quick headcount: one, two, three…yes, all ten of them were there. Technically twelve, because Tate was sitting in the corner next to an exhibit of "Rodents of Unusual Size," reading a magazine, and they still weren't sure if Fiddleford or Candy fit the symbol of the glasses yet. But now was as good a time as any to find out.

Reluctantly he pulled the rift from his coat pocket, and placed it in the center of the painted circle-right over Bill's eye for extra spite. He had no idea if this would actually work, but there was no direct evidence to the contrary, and, well, what other options did they have?

"All right. Everyone, we need to step into the circle and join hands."

Stan groaned. "Please tell me we're not gonna haveta sing Kumbaya or something."

"Aww, I love that song," Soos protested.

"Focus, please!" Remember, Stan is taking this seriously, he's just naturally aggravating. "Pay attention to where your symbol is-while they don't necessarily need to be in the order I've put them in, it will probably work better if everyone just follows the placement."

To his relief, a moment later everyone started moving to their respective spots. Even Gideon, who Wendy rolled over to the star symbol.

It took them a minute or two, but at last they were settled more or less in position: Ford at the head of the circle, with the emu-Robbie, he reminded himself-on his right, followed in rapid succession by Gideon, the Northwest girl (when he was making the circle he'd initially planned on putting Mabel there, but upon reflection decided he didn't want her anywhere near the little creep), Dipper, the glasses symbol, Mabel, Wendy, Soos, and finishing with Stanley.

Fiddleford and Candy looked at each other uncertainly for a moment, and then Fiddleford tipped his hat and gave her a little bow, gesturing to the glasses symbol.

"Ladies first, young'un."

Candy gave a little giggle and curtsied back. "You are too kind, Mr. McGucket!" She stepped into the circle, and exchanged excited elbow jabs with Mabel.

"Okay. Now, everyone hold hands," Ford commanded. "If my research is correct, this will create a mystical human energy circuit."

"Uh, what's that mean?" Robbie asked.

"We're about to find out." And Ford reached out and grabbed the sweaty, fingerless-gloved hand.

Robbie jerked slightly in his grasp, but then reluctantly leaned down and picked up Gideon's limp hand-and as soon as they connected, Ford felt a tingle all over his body, like he'd just walked on his body-switching carpet in his socks, and a soft white glow began to emanate around them.

Gideon made a shocked sound through his closed lips.

"Whoa…totally metal," Robbie muttered.

Ford wondered what he thought metal had to do with anything, but as long as they completed the circle it didn't matter.

He turned to Stanley, and held out a slightly more hesitant hand.

…High six?

Stanley, do something! STANLEY!

Finally! After all these years of waiting, you're actually here! Brother!

They'd had so many opportunities to fix their relationship, and all of them had gone to waste through their own foolish inability to communicate and let go of petty grudges (though as he'd realized, perhaps Stan's grudges were not as petty as he'd made himself believe all these years).

Perhaps if they could work together now in order to save the world, things could finally be good again.

But even if it was necessary for the ritual for Stan to be in the circle, Ford suddenly began to worry that it had been a colossally presumptuous mistake to position his twin right next to him; perhaps he should have put him in a different spot-between Soos and Wendy, who it would still be awkward for him to hold hands with but not as bad, or next to the children, or-

Stan's eyes looked equally uncertain about this situation, but after a second he offered Ford a tentative smile and slowly started to lift his hand.

And then one of the walls caved in with a CRASH.

Everything dissolved into chaos; the little group screamed, pulling apart as they stumbled over themselves and each other in an attempt to dodge flying chunks of wood and shards of glass. After only a second of shock Ford frantically dived around the stampeding bodies towards the middle of the circle, trying to see if the rift had been jostled or-Tesla forbid-knocked over in all the excitement-

No, there it was, still in one piece, and he was able to snatch it to safety just before Soos accidentally stomped on it.

Ford rolled, and came up into a crouch, cradling the rift in one hand and drawing his gun with the other, as he looked up to see who-or what-was responsible for this home invasion.

One of Stan's exhibits, the Sascrotch, was obliterated into stuffing by a massive, green, scaly, clawed hand smacking it out of its owner's way as it stomped inside, broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms breaking loose a little more of the wall on the way.

The tops of its pointed ears scraped against the ceiling, and through its jutting fangs Ford thought he could see a triumphant smirk.

And that was before the gremloblin opened his golden eyes wide and bellowed at the frightened humans, "PEEKABOO!"

Oh, like you thought them saving the world was gonna be THAT easy.

And just to clarify, no, they haven't had the opportunity to make the unicorn hair barrier around the house.
Sure would've been nice if they'd taken the time to do that, huh?