Shermie was terrified for Stan's sake. The last time he'd thought he could leave Stan on his own, he'd almost drowned. He'd just gotten his brother back after ten years. He couldn't lose him again. But despite how long it had been, Shermie still knew his brother. He knew that Stan was stubborn, and proud, and trying to tie him down was the fastest way of scaring him off.
Stan needed to have the freedom to make his own choices, and Shermie would be right here to pick up the pieces if he fell apart.
Though if Stan wasn't back at the cabin by noon on the dot, Shermie would tear the forest down until he found him.
In the meantime, he had Ford to worry about. His brother needed a lot of help. Shermie couldn't do anything about the demon right now. That was something they would have to figure out a little later. However, he could definitely help Ford figure out how to become a functional part of society again.
This wasn't something that Shermie had even considered would be a problem, and then they got to town. Just as soon as they saw the people on the streets, Ford was visibly uncomfortable. He shrunk back in his seat, ducking his head and trying to avoid being seen at all. He hadn't acted like this since he was dropped off for his first day of second grade.
"What's wrong?" Shermie asked as he parked in front of the store.
"I just…am not used to coming into town." Ford shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Any of these people could be manipulated by Bill even as we speak."
"Being under a demon's influence doesn't automatically make someone a bad person." Shermie pointed out. "Just look at you." Ford didn't look appeased. Shermie sighed. "Okay. Are there any signs of possession that we can look out for?"
Ford blinked. "The eyes. Bill's eyes are yellow, and slitted, and…they're just unnatural." Ford took a deep breath. "And his movements can be quite erratic. Bill isn't used to a physical body like ours. He doesn't know how to move it."
"So we'll keep an eye out." Shermie promised him. Ford still looked really nervous, and a little embarrassed. Shermie raised an eyebrow at him. "What else?"
"Nothing." Ford said too quickly. "It's just…people always look at me when I come around."
Shermie was sympathetic to Ford's anxieties, but he was also very exasperated with them. "Ford, have you given these people any reason to see you as anything more than a weird recluse whose house makes weird noises and lights coming from it every other day? His brother's sheepish expression made it clear what the answer was.
"Stanford Pines, can you honestly tell me that if you were in their position, you wouldn't be doing the exact same thing?" Shermie asked. Ford's face went red. Shermie felt drained. It was like dealing with a bunch of children, except even Alex was more emotionally responsible than this.
"You are twenty eight years old." Shermie said, as though he had to. "I'm not saying you need to become a people person, but you know what the quickest way to get people to stop treating you like a freak is?"
Ford practically pouted. He'd heard this lecture from Shermie before. "By giving them the chance to get to know me."
"Exactly." Shermie got out of the car, and felt satisfied when Ford reluctantly followed his example. "And I can't imagine these people are any worse than the jerks at Glass Shard Beach."
Ford looked thoughtful. "Actually, while I haven't spent a lot of time in town, I've been able to make a few observations. Because of the frequency of anomalies in this area, the people in this town are oddly accepting of things that are out of the ordinary."
"See? There you go." Shermie said. "They accept it because they're used to it. So give them the chance to get used to you."
"You're probably right." Ford said, but he still stayed close to Shermie's side, and shied away when anybody in the store looked their way. When someone actually asked Ford if he was the mad scientist that lived on the edge of town, he looked like he was ready to bolt out of there. He probably would have if Shermie hadn't put a hand on his shoulder.
While he was trying to bring Ford out of his comfort zone, he didn't want to break his brother completely, so Shermie took it upon himself to give vague answers that anybody might ask about Ford's work. He knew he couldn't fight all of his brothers' battles for them, but he also couldn't expect them to do more than they could handle. Baby steps.
As they went through the store, Shermie focused on finding fresh ingredients and comfort foods. He wasn't a great cook, but he imagined that any home-cooked meal would taste like heaven to both Stan and Ford. They both needed the comfort, and they definitely both needed the nutrition.
Grabbing groceries didn't take too long. Shermie got the necessities, but he held back from getting everything he felt his brothers needed. He had the hope to bring the twins home with him within the next few days. If everything went right, they wouldn't need all that much food.
What ended up taking the most amount of time was that Ford insisted on grabbing some rope and bandanas that they could use to bind him while he slept. They didn't want to give Bill the chance to hurt anybody, and that included Ford. Shermie double checked everything that Ford wanted to grab, just to make sure it was safe and wouldn't be too rough against his skin.
They also got a lot of stuff for Stan, and not just for his healing. They restocked on bandages, ointments, antibiotics, and pain relievers. There was a very nice lady shopping down the same aisle as them who had some good advice on how to treat a burn.
After some convincing, Shermie was able to convince Ford to try on some clothes for them to bring back for their brother. Stan may be a bit bulkier than his twin, but they were still about the same size. Besides, Ford knew what kind of clothes Stan was most comfortable in.
By the time they were ready to leave the store, they were both feeling drained. Ford wanted to go home, and if Shermie was honest with himself, he did too. The thing was, there was one more stop to make.
It was late morning, and neither of them had eaten yet. It was tempting to just get back to the cabin and get an early start on lunch while they waited for Stan. But Shermie still felt like Ford needed to get to know the people in this town of his. Going shopping was a good first step, and the next one was to eat and relax in public with people who were just trying to do the same. So Shermie drove to the one diner in town.
He had thought that he would have to drag Ford inside kicking and screaming, but his brother was more than happy to go into the diner the second he smelled coffee.
"They make a decent coffee omelette here." Ford said as they went inside and were seated. They had beat the lunch rush, and there were only a handful of other patrons.
"Coffee omelette?" Shermie frowned as he looked over the menu. He'd been to some questionable diners before, but this one had some weird food combinations that he wasn't too keen on trying. "That sounds revolting."
"It doesn't look or smell much better." Ford admitted. "But the texture is surprisingly pleasant, the taste is fine, and I appreciate the practicality of having my morning coffee and breakfast at the same time."
Shermie chuckled. "It sounds like something Ma and Pa would love." She loved her coffee, and there was little that Pa liked more than efficiency.
When the waitress came over, Shermie had settled on some coffee and a venison breakfast sandwich. Ford got his coffee omelette, but Shermie put his foot down on him getting a cup of coffee as well. They may not have gotten a lot of sleep these past few days, but nobody needed that much coffee. So, grumbling and glaring at Shermie, Ford got a fruit smoothie to drink instead.
While they waited for their food, they just talked. It felt much easier than their weekly calls. They weren't talking because of their obligation, but because they wanted to. And now they didn't have to avoid even mentioning Stan. It was nice, and casual, and for just ten minutes they were both able to forget about the demon problem waiting for them at home.
Eventually their food arrived, and they continued their conversation between bites. Despite Ford's whining, he ended up really liking his smoothie, and he ordered another one to go to bring home for Stan.
Finally, they were ready to go home…well, almost. Ford insisted that they stop by the elementary school, because that was apparently where he had hidden one of his journals. Shermie gave his brother an unimpressed look, and Ford had the decency to look sheepish.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Ford said quietly. "A child wouldn't have the ambition to fall for Bill's tricks."
There were a lot of times when Shermie realized how stupid his genius brother could be. He didn't seem to know anything about people. "Do you not remember what you were like when you were ten?"
Ford frowned indignantly. "I wasn't that bad."
Shermie raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Your fifth grade school play." The one and only time that Ford had dipped his toe into theater. He hadn't wanted to, but the elementary school had made it a requirement for students to participate, because they wanted to give them more cultural experiences. The next year, the requirements were changed, and they all knew that Ford was the reason for it.
Ford never did things by halves, even as a kid. If he was going to bother doing something, he was going to give it everything he had. And the small theater program at their small school couldn't handle ten year old Ford's unrestrained ideas.
Ford's face went red. "I thought we agreed we wouldn't talk about that." He sighed. "But I see your point."
Fortunately, it wasn't a school day, so there was nobody around to give them weird looks as they quickly dug up Ford's journal and finally made their way back home.
Shermie felt pretty good about the morning, and even Ford seemed more relaxed. As he drove up to the house they saw lights on inside that he knew they hadn't bothered to turn on before they left. As they got a little closer, Shermie could make out footprints coming from the forest and to the house. Hopefully Stan had returned from his little errand and they could stop panicking about each other.
Ford hadn't failed to notice the footprints. He looked equally eager and horrified. He reached for the door, and Shermie practically slammed the breaks on. The car slid more than a little bit, but when Ford opened his door and jumped out, they were going slow enough that he didn't hurt himself. Ford stumbled a bit, but he quickly found his footing and ran inside.
Shermie swore under his breath as he quickly parked and hurried after his brother. He knew that Ford had been concerned about Stan, but Ford had a tendency to show all of his intense emotions through anger, and Shermie couldn't handle another fight between his brothers.
"Stanley?!" Ford shouted as he ran into the front room. Shermie got in just in time to see Stan sitting curled up on the couch, looking completely devastated and lost in his own head. Shermie only saw him for an instant before Stan sat up, his eyes stealing into a cold and defensive glare.
"Where were you?" Stan crossed his arms.
"Us?" Ford looked indignant and frustrated. "You're the one that vanished without a word."
"I left a note." Stan said. It just frustrated Ford more.
"That's not good enough and you know it." Ford said. "You have no idea how dangerous these woods are."
"I can take care of myself." Stan said. His tone was dangerous. "In case you haven't noticed, I've been doing it for ten years. I don't need you to babysit me." This was getting into dangerous territory.
"Stan." Shermie placed himself between his brothers. "We know you can handle yourself. But whether you like it or not, you're hurt and in an unfamiliar place. You probably would have been able to handle yourself just fine, but just in case, can you take it easy for at least a little bit?" He was careful to keep his own frustration and fear out of his tone. He knew from dealing with Alex that just a change in tone could impact the way that someone responded. It turned a lecture into words of concern.
Stan scowled and looked away, but he nodded. Shermie breathed a sigh of relief. Ford looked like he still wanted to argue and fight, but he kept his mouth shut. Ford didn't want to chase Stan away either.
Stan rubbed his arms. "Why'd you guys leave." There was an uncertainty in his voice, and Shermie thought he knew what was bothering his brother. He and Ford had been scared of Stan disappearing on them again. Stan had always been scared of being left behind. Shermie couldn't imagine how he felt after coming back to the house, only to find his brothers gone, as well as the car. And unlike Stan, they hadn't left a note.
"We had some errands to run." Shermie said. "In case you haven't noticed, there's no food in this house. I thought you'd appreciate something home cooked to eat." Stan looked at him in awe at those words. It made Shermie feel ill that he had no idea when the last time Stan had a good homemade meal had been.
Even worse, with the way Stan was looking at him, Shermie wasn't sure if his brother could remember when the last time was either.
"We'll bring the stuff in." Shermie nudged at Ford. He wasn't about to make Stan help. He didn't want his brother to carry anything right now with his hurt shoulder. And with the state his feet were in, he didn't want him walking much either.
Shermie and Ford got to work. The food came in first, and while Shermie started cooking Ford brought in everything else. Stan sat in the kitchen as he watched them work. He raised his eyebrows when Ford brought in the bag of rope and bandanas.
"Who are we kidnapping?" Stan asked jokingly. Ford gave him an unimpressed look.
"This is just a precaution so we don't have a repeat of…earlier." Ford's stern expression fell to a look of intense fear. "Stan, about what happened, I…I'm so…I swear, I never wanted you to get hurt."
Stan shrugged, and Shermie didn't like how casually he was acting. He wished he knew how much of this was an act. "I mean, it's not your fault you got manipulated by a demon."
Shermie was stunned for just a second before he smirked, realizing that Stan had to have listened in on the conversation between him and Ford. Stan knew about Bill. Of course he did. Shermie didn't know why he expected any less.
"You know about Bill?" Ford sounded stunned, like he always did when someone knew something he didn't expect them to. Shermie wondered if Ford had any idea how patronizing his incredulity was.
"I heard you." Stan said. "Why do you think I went out anyway?"
Ford flinched. "Because you felt you needed space after what I did to you?"
Stan grimaced. "What? No." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a colorful clump of hair that looked like it was made of glitter. "I went to get you this." Stan looked so smug and proud of himself. Ford was just frozen as he stared at the hair. He was still for long enough that Stan's confidence started to waver and he looked a little uncertain. "You can use this stuff, can't you?"
"...Unicorn hair?" Ford looked like he was going to faint. "You…what did you do?!" Ford sounded like he didn't know whether to be impressed or furious. Shermie smiled to himself. He hadn't realized how much he had missed hearing Ford use this tone, which he had only reserved for Stan. "Please, please tell me you didn't attack the last unicorn."
Stan snorted. "Last…is that what he told you? I'm surprised you believed a word he said after the whole 'pure of heart' nonsense I found in your notes."
Ford's face was red, and it was hard to tell if it was from fury or embarrassment. "Do you mean to tell me that Celestebellebethabelle isn't the last of his kind?"
Stan blinked. "That…okay, wow, and here I thought Shimmy's full name was ridiculous. No. Considering I didn't even talk to C-Beth, he's definitely not the last unicorn. And thank goodness for that, because from what Shimmy told me about him, I probably would have punched him in the face."
Ford still looked stunned. "How did you get the hair?"
"Oh, Shimmy gave it to me." Stan said. Shermie knew there was more to it than that, but Stan seemed to be having fun making Ford squirm. "So, can you get rid of this Bill guy?"
"Not completely." Ford said. He took the hair from Stan, examining it. "But I can use it to make a barrier that will protect whoever's inside. Bill won't be able to possess them, or haunt their dreams. I even think he wouldn't be able to get past the barrier if he possessed someone from the outside."
Ford was starting to look excited and hopeful. "There are other components necessary for the barrier, but I think I have them lying around." He continued to mutter to himself as he left the kitchen and went to get his things. Stan just grinned fondly as he watched him leave. As soon as Ford was out of the room Stan sighed and drooped. He laid his head on the table.
"Are you okay?" Shermie asked quietly, so as to not alert Ford that something was wrong.
Stan sighed. "It's just been a long morning." He turned his head to look at Shermie. "I didn't mean to freak you guys out. I think it'll take a long time for me to figure out that there are people who care enough to worry about where I am."
Shermie felt his gut tighten with guilt. Even after ten years, and even now that he had Stan back again, he still felt guilty for failing his brother. Stan would probably tell him that he hadn't failed him, and that of everybody in their family, he was probably the one who was blameless, but that didn't make him feel any better.
Shermie had to have failed, because if he had done his job as a brother then Stan never would have doubted that he had someone who cared about him. This wasn't something that could be fixed overnight.
"I guess I'll just have to keep reminding you." Shermie said. They had time. "That's something we'll work on when we get to Piedmont." Stan's head shot up, and Shermie remembered that just because he'd made plans didn't mean he'd talked to his brothers about it. He'd gotten through to Ford that he didn't really get a say in this, but Stan had always had more of an independent streak when he felt like people thought he was incapable of doing something.
Somehow, Shermie didn't think that had changed after ten years of not being able to rely on anybody but himself.
"What do you mean?" Stan asked fearfully. "I can't…I can't go home with you."
Shermie frowned and turned the heat on the stove down. The simple soup didn't need to be watched while it simmered. Stan, on the other hand, needed to have his full attention. Shermie looked towards his younger brother.
"Why not?" Shermie asked. "If it's because you're scared of being a burden, I already told you, it'll be a weight off of my shoulders to see for myself that you're okay."
Stan seemed to shrink on himself, though he tried to scowl and look annoyed. "What, are you planning on keeping me around until we're both wrinkly old men?"
Shermie doubted he would mind it. After ten years of not even knowing if his brother was alive, he wanted him to be a constant in his life. But he knew that wasn't practical. He'd be just fine with the next best thing.
"I would honestly love to have you nearby for the rest of our lives." Shermie said honestly. "But at the very least I want you nearby until I know you can take care of yourself."
Stan's scowl deepened, and he was sincerely frustrated. "I can take care of myself."
Shermie didn't want to demean his efforts and hard work, but he highly doubted it, and he needed Stan to understand why. "Are you telling me that you have a place to live that's not the back of your car, or a cheap motel?" Stan looked stricken, like Shermie had just hit him across the face. He wanted to apologize, but he was far too worried. He needed to get through to Stan, and he needed to do it now.
"Do you have a job, or any reliable source of money that can consistently keep decent clothes on your back, and food on the table?" Shermie leaned closer to his brother, who looked ready to bolt. "Do you even have a table? Or a bed? Or any basic furniture?"
"No!" Stan slammed his head against the table so suddenly that Shermie didn't see it coming and he didn't have time to try to stop him. Shermie was taken aback, and he felt helpless to do anything but watch as Stan's whole body grew stiff and he clutched tightly at his hair, pulling it.
"I get it, okay?" Stan's voice broke. Shermie couldn't see his face, but he could practically hear the tears. "I've tried. You have no idea how hard I've tried to do this whole adulting thing, but I can't do it. I'm lucky if I can get a somewhat filling meal once a week. I didn't even have enough gas in my car to get here, and I had to leave my car behind. I have a criminal record, and about a dozen people besides the law who are out for me."
Stan's grip on his hair loosened slightly, because he just looked too drained to remain so stiff. He sniffled. "You know, when I left, I thought the worst my life could get was being stuck in New Jersey for the rest of my life, working some dead-end job scraping barnacles at the dock. Now, I'd be glad to have that. It would mean having a job, and a place to stay, and the chance to do something worthwhile with my life."
Shermie really hadn't meant to make Stan feel so bad about himself and his life. He just wanted his brother to admit that he needed help. Help that Shermie was more than happy to provide. He wasn't disappointed or surprised that Stan was struggling so much. Getting jobs in this economy was hard, and trying to find a place to live was even worse.
People wouldn't sell you a place unless you have a steady income first. Any decent employer wouldn't even consider hiring somebody unless they had an address. Especially not if the potential employee didn't even have a high school degree. Being a homeless dropout, Stan didn't have a chance. He would have gotten desperate really quickly, and anybody he would have been able to find a job from would have been sketchy manipulators who just wanted someone to take the fall.
Stan needed help getting back on his feet. That didn't mean he was a failure, or that the only reason this was his lot in life was because he deserved it. It just meant that Stan needed his family. He needed support. They'd let him down so far, and Shermie was trying to make amends, but Stan didn't trust him, and he couldn't blame him.
"You're not a failure." Shermie sat next to Stan and put a firm hand on his uninjured shoulder. "You're definitely not worthless. Please, Stanley, I just want to help you."
"And how long will that last for?" Stan muttered. "Sooner or later you're going to see what a lost cause I am." He finally released his hair. "You and your family will be better off without me."
"You are my family." Shermie insisted. "Whoever's after you, we'll figure it out. If it's a debt, I can help you pay it off. And if you feel like you'll owe me for that, you can pay me back by babysitting Alex." Not that Shermie would want to be repaid for taking care of his brother, but he knew how proud Stan was. In his world, you didn't get anything for nothing. There was always a price. So Shermie would give him one.
And if Stan felt like he had to stay behind to pay off a nonexistent debt towards Shermie, then maybe he'd be more inclined to stay.
Stan was quiet for a long moment, and Shermie took this as a hopeful sign. Finally Stan lifted his head and looked at him. "You really want me to stay with you? Why?"
"Because you're my brother." Shermie said. "I don't need more of a reason than that." And he hoped that explanation would work, because he knew that Stan felt the same way. If Shermie was in need, he knew that Stan would help him at the drop of a hat. Just look at how quickly he'd come here at the smallest indication that Ford needed help.
Stan recognized the importance of family. He just needed to realize that he was deserving of that loyalty and care himself.
Stan sighed and nodded. He leaned against Shermie. It wasn't quite a hug, but it was something. Shermie held him close. They could have sat there for hours, but then Shermie heard a stomach grumble. Stan was hungry. At least that was a problem that Shermie could take care of now.
"Let's finish up lunch, and then we can help Ford with his little demon problem." Shermie said. He gave Stan's shoulder one more squeeze before he stood up. He went to the bags of groceries on the floor, pulling out the bread, some condiments, meat, and cheese. He put the ingredients on the table in front of Stan. "Why don't you put together a sandwich? I gotta get the rest of the things out of the car, and then I'll grill it up for you to have with the soup."
Shermie left the kitchen, faltering in his steps when he saw Ford leaning against the wall just past the door. His eyes were wet and he looked gutted. He must have heard everything Stan had said, and it wasn't sitting any better with him than it was with Shermie.
He put a hand on his younger brother's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Ford leaned into his touch for a long moment before he pulled away and wiped his eyes. Shermie let him be, deciding not to say words of comfort, or to scold him for eavesdropping. They both knew that Stan wouldn't have opened up to Shermie if Ford had been there.
It was easier for younger brothers to let themselves be vulnerable in front of their older brothers than for them to lower their defenses in front of the people that they tried so hard to take care of.
It would take both Stan and Ford time to figure out how to be vulnerable with each other in ways that didn't involve yelling and fighting. Shermie wished that was something that they could work out now, but Ford was socially drained for the day, and Stan was emotionally. Trying to push either of them to do much more would just push them to the point of breaking.
This was a slower journey than Shermie would like, but at least progress was being made. Shermie would take that over what they'd been suffering through for the past ten years.