It's the last chapter... What the heck?! This story went by crazy-fast, at least for me. Versability was super fun to write, probably one of my favourite longer pieces to date. The only thing that could measure up to how great it was would be all the wonderful response I got for it! So thank-you, so much to all of those who followed along with this story! You guys are awesome, and I hope to see you lingering around my next few stories!

I've got two ideas in the works now. One appears dark when you look at the basic premise, but it's actually a bunch of stupid family fluff (sort of like this story) and the other has a fun premise that could promise for lots of family fluff, but winds up being dark and angsty... So we'll see how that goes. I think I'll do a bit for both, see which I enjoy writing more, and ask for people's input...

But, I'm wasting your time. So again, one huge final thanks to everyone who read along with this fic! It was a pleasure to write! Stay tuned for whatever comes from me in the near future!

Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls.

Sleep had seemed impossible on the surface. Stanford could only lay on the couch, blankly staring at the rafters. His eyes still stung and watered painfully, he could barely see they hurt so much. He knew he was probably dehydrated, but he could not bring himself to get a glass of water.

Fiddleford was doing his best to distract the children, he could hear them talking in the den. He could hear their voices (mostly Fiddleford's), but he could not make out the individual words. Not that he wanted to listen in on their conversation anyway. He felt numb, hollowed out on the inside. So he lay perfectly still on the couch, almost fearing that he would fall apart if he moved. He felt so empty on the inside he thought that he would crumble to bits if he made so much as a twitch.

The pain and shock from before had toned down, to a constant aching feeling. It started within his bones, and spread throughout his muscles with every beat of his own, living, heart. It traveled through his veins, swirled around his fingertips, and spread to the very tips of his hair. Every breath he took felt like a fight against gravity. His chest struggled to push itself up, before it would collapse back down again.

Yet, despite the pain, despite the awful, drowning feeling of guilt that smothered him, Stanford somehow found himself falling to sleep. But not a restful one. Almost instantly, the man knew that he was dreaming. It was the type of dream where one felt like they could wake up, if they wanted to, or something disturbed them. The muffled sounds of voices in the house almost woke him again, but his eyes felt so heavy... And so he was dreaming.

The couch he had been laying on became intangible, as did all the walls, even the ceiling. He was floating. Stanford looked down at his hands. There was something very... Off with this scenario. Was he lucid dreaming? Were ghosts messing around with his room? Oh, ghosts... Dead people... Dead... Stanley...

"You gonna' start crying again?"

That voice... He knew that voice! Misery turned to fear as a chill ran down his spine. But when he turned to look, the horrible excuse for a human being (literally) was not there. That was not to say the space behind him was empty. It was occupied by... A higher-resolution drawing of that shape-painting! The thing he had seen so long ago, in a mysterious cave. Stanford supposed it was fitting. His adventure with Stanley had started there. And now that it was over, he was dreaming about the weird drawing, which just so happened to have someone else's voice. The triangle seemed to know what he was thinking, for it said;

"Hey, just because I've been losing weight, it doesn't make me a drawing."

"Sorry?"

"Don't sweat it." The not-a-drawing started to back-stroke through the air, circling around him. "Death is so tragic after all. It can really mess with your common sense, cause you to make rash decisions, all that."

"Er-" The painful twinge that followed the reminder caused him to clutch his chest. "Y-yes."

"Aren't you going to ask how I know that?"

"You're a part of my head, I assumed-"

The thing stopped in its tracks, and laughed at this.

"I'm not a part of your head."

It laughed again. Stanford could have sworn he heard it say: "At least not yet." But he wasn't so sure of himself. This dream was very strange, not like anything he had ever experienced before. The thing, whatever it was, was also starting to make him feel uncomfortable. Was it some sort of creature of Gravity Falls? Maybe the thing had moved in while he was out that summer, this could just be an introduction. But if it was real, and it did know these things about him... Suddenly, Stanford remembered why the voice had set him on edge originally. That, and the creature's bright yellow body could not just be a coincidence.

"Have you been stalking me?!"

The creature paled a little, and awkwardly fixed its bowtie.

"I prefer to call it subtly encouraging you to return to Gravity Falls."

"Subtle?! You're about as subtle as a freight train you knucklehead! What do you want?! Why are you here?!"

"Knucklehead?!" It turned red-orange in places. "You're the one who can fall for basic hypnosis from an evil hotel! I had to go in and bail you out before the stupid thing turned your brain to mush!"

"Ugh, and here I thought I might be able to get some peace in my sleep." Stanford said, glaring at the creature. "So, you just go about doing whatever creepy thing you're up to inside of my head. I'm going to wake up."

"Wait!" The creature grabbed his arm, stopping him from pinching it. "Stanford buddy old pal, you don't need to do that! You've had a long day, you're tired, you're not thinking straight! All I want to do is talk!"

"And all I want to do is sleep. And yet here you are, completely ruining the one, single shred of a thing I had to look forwards to this day."

"Aw, don't be like that, what's there even to look forwards to outside of your head?" It asked. "I mean, just look at you!"

It pointed to his legs. Stanford hadn't realized it until now, but he was standing. He supposed he hadn't thought much of the information and disregarded it, because this was only a dream.

"At least you've got a functioning body here! The other one's a complete wreck! Wouldn't you hang around and not have to get help from someone for a bit?"

"You're not any less of a person for relying on others."

"No."

The creature's grip on his arm grew tighter. It was starting to look nervous.

"Do you really want to go back there? Your life's kind of a mess right now friend-o. You show up and those kids are going to be all over you again. Something you might want to avoid, especially after..." He was poked in the spot where his wound should have been. "Mabel freaked out on you there. Kid's taking it hard, they both need some time really."

"They're family Poindexter. My family."

That was only more of a reason to wake up. He couldn't just sleep so that he could avoid his problems. His family needed him, the kids needed him. They were a lot more important than he was. Poor Mabel... He could still hear her begging for him to give up the act. Dipper had been different. He had been so quiet, yet so emotional at the same time. The sickly pale expression on his face still stuck with him now.

Heck, even the man-child wasn't doing well. Soos was probably taking it the worst out of all of them, if half of what he had heard about their time together was true. Soos looked up to Stanley, almost seen him as a father figure. He had been the closest to Stanley throughout his isolated years.

"I really do need to get back."

His arms were twisted behind his back so he could not pinch himself awake.

"Nooo you don't."

"Look, you, I don't care about your schemes or whatever it is you want." He snapped, wrenching his arms back. "Ideally, you would stop stalking me and trying to be my friend. That would be perfect actually. I would pay you what little money I have if you would just fuck off permanently!"

"Come on Fordsy- Can I call you Fordsy? I'm gonna' call you Fordsy. Just hear me out!"

"The last time I heard you out I somehow agreed to become best friends with you! And that went horribly!"

"Hey, usually its the other way around, people are begging to be friends with me!"

"Of course. Now if you stop doing that-" He had to pull his arms away from the thing again, it was really bent on not letting him wake up. "I'll hear you out."

Slowly and suspiciously, the creature let go of his wrists.

"Right then. Now, the reason why I wanted to talk to you has to do with your brother's... Passing."

Stanford felt what little tolerance had for the conversation drying up. He folded his arms over his chest.

"What is it?"

"We could fix it."

"Fix what?"

"I know a guy. He's got access to some pretty reliable time-travel, and if we went back, say thirty years, seven months, ten days, and five hours exactly, we could save him!"

"Why thirty years?"

"You could fix your relationship in the process! Trust me! It's fool proof!"

"But Stanley and I were even angrier at each other then then we are now!"

"Not important, do you want to save your brother or what?"

"I-"

Time-travel? He had encountered several time-travellers before, and tried it a few times, for science. (And also to perhaps collect hair and blood samples of history's greatest scientists.) But actually going back in time, thirty years? What about the children? Who would be taking care of them, would they even exist if he went back in time? What if he got rid of them entirely, through altering the past? He hardly had any family left as it was. Stanley was gone, and if he couldn't save his brother in the past, and lost the kids, he could wind up with no one...

Plus, how were they going to get around the pesky problem of paradoxes? Surely this, whatever the triangle-thing was, had thought about those issues, right? The plan was full of flaws, it would never work. He could never get his brother back like this. Despite this inward decision, the creature did not seem to pick up on it. Or maybe it did, because it continued to talk, attempting to persuade him into taking the deal.

"We go back, patch things up, and it'll all be good and happy!"

"But-"

"You'll have your brother back, don't you want that Stanford? Don't you caaare about him? Wouldn't you do anything to save him, knowing what you do now?"

"I-"

"You'll have your brother back, you'll have an arm and a leg back! You'll be one whole, solid person again!"

"Look, it's, nice, that you want to help me, but I-"

"You've already nearly lost those kids! Are you going to let Stanley slip through the cracks even when there's a chance to..."

"You were the one who pushed my great-niece over a cliff! Why you want to save my family after you've tried to kill it?!"

"Water under the bridge!" It dismissed.

"That's where you threw Dipper!"

The creature grew uncomfortable again.

"Ah, yes, good point... But you see, the thing about that is-"

Suddenly, Stanford made the connection. Falling from a height, into a dangerous body of water... First Mabel, then Dipper (if the story the twins had been talking about to each other was any true), and now Stanley. Only, there was no one there to save Stanley. What if it really wasn't... That thing, whatever this supernatural irritant was, this thing could possess another person's body. The vivid image, of his brother, with bright yellow eyes driving off the side of the road suddenly came to him.

"You... You did it!"

"I've done a lotta' things, you're going to have to specify."

"You killed Stanley!"

"Nope! I can't take credit for that one." It shrugged. "He didn't need my help to kick it. I'm just here to take advantage of your grief- I mean, help a buddy out!"

"YOU KILLED HIM! IT WAS YOU! I KNOW IT WAS YOU!"

"Whoa, take it easy there."

He grabbed the creature. He was going to tear the stupid thing apart brick-by-brick, like he should have done before. But it passed through his fingers, untouchable. He gave a furious growl, and leaped towards it again. Now it yelped, moving out of the way.

"Yeeeah, maybe it really is time for you to wake up." It said. "I'll talk to you later, ok pal?"

"Make it never and you've got yourself a deal! I might wind up killing you if I see you any sooner!"

"I've got some things to account for now, anyways." It said, tenting its fingers together. "So see you next summer! Byeee!"

Stanford suddenly awoke. There were tears in his eyes and he could feel his brother's name on the tip of his tongue. He had rolled off the couch in his struggle to wake up from the dream. Oh, what a nightmare. He rubbed his eyes, and tiredly blinked. To his surprise, it was the morning already. It had felt like no time had passed during the dream, and yet, here the morning was.

Day two without a twin brother had begun. Stanford forgotten that he had kept track of that ever since the start of the summer. Yet now, he would be counting the days until he passed as well. The second day was always much harder than the first. He knew that from experience. But the thought that he would have to go through losing his brother all over again...

It was too much, and he had to slump, with his back propped up against the couch. He groaned, and rubbed his eyes again. He couldn't do this. How was he supposed to get through the day? What was he even supposed to do now that Stanley was gone? Somehow, he did not feel like he did it voluntarily, he managed to pull himself back on to the couch, and then into his wheelchair. Stanford didn't bother with his appearance, he knew that it was horrid anyways. All he really needed were his glasses. He slipped those on, and left the room.

The twins were already awake when he entered the kitchen. Fiddleford was leaning against the counter with one arm, and sipping a black cup of coffee with the other. Everyone had dark circles under their eyes. Stanford suspected that he did as well, but he was in no mood to check his appearance.

Mabel was wearing the same sweater as yesterday, a phenomenon he had never seen, in his entire time spent with her that summer. Dipper looked pale and sickly as ever. He was poking at his breakfast, the boy clearly looked nauseated at the thought of eating anything. When he appeared, Mabel ran up to him, and he was hugged. He was momentarily caught off guard, but hugged the girl back. She gave him a gentle squeeze and quietly said;

"I'm sorry."

It took him a moment to muster up the ability to reply. His vocal cords felt like they had been torn to shreds, his throat still ached painfully from the day before. When he swallowed, a rough, stinging sensation trickled down the back of his throat.

"Don't you so much as worry about it."

Their grip on each other tightened. He could hear her sniffling, she was obviously trying to not break out into tears again. He patted her back in circular motions, and silently wondered how he was keeping it together when she was breaking down again. Perhaps he was all cried-out after the previous night. But no matter how much he wanted to, he could not bring himself to tear up again. At least, not in front of the children. When they stopped, he could see that Dipper was staring at them, a peculiar expression upon his face.

"There's hugs to go around." He said, answering his unasked question.

The chair scraped loudly as he jumped from his seat and ran over to them.

"Children, I'm so sorry your summer had to turn out like this."

"What? No Grunkle Ford we liked spending the summer with you, and G-Grunkle Stan!"

"This was one of the coolest summers of our lives, and it's not even over yet!"

They both smiled at him, genuine grins. He could only manage a weak spasm of his lips in return, even though their kind words made his heart melt, and his eyes tear up even more. What had he ever done with these children? How had he managed to get by, with hardly anyone in his life? When they were around, it was easy to forget that he had ever been through a time when

"Plus we got to meet even cooler friends and family. Even... If it wasn't for long."

"I should have done more to prevent this." He sighed. "Just something, anything!"

"It's not your fault Grunkle Ford."

"But-

Ding dong!

There was no post on Sundays, nor was he subscribed to the Sunday paper. (Which in Gravity Falls, solely focused on what kinds of sons to put in your days. Nowhere near as interesting as it sounded.) In addition to that, no one ever showed up at his door. The few that did (Fiddleford, and any number of supernatural creatures.) simply went in and made themselves at home whether he liked it or not.

It chimed for a second time, and there were several more, rapid button presses. Three short, one long, another short, two more long, and a short. He recognized that pattern, and knew exactly what it meant. Those rings were morse code for... No, that wasn't possible, he was imagining things. Yet still, his heart started to speed up, he could feel it pounding against his ribcage. He made a movement towards the front door. The ringing started again. Fiddleford rolled his eyes.

"Don't you worry Stanford, I'll-"

"I'll get it!"

Before anyone could stop him, he had shaken the twins off, and raced towards the door. But, to his dismay it was not Stanley. Stanford didn't know what he had been expecting. Stanley was gone, and not coming back. He must have been really going crazy if he thought that Stanley would just show up on his doorstep.

He must need some more rest, or maybe that stupid triangle inside of his dreams was doing something strange to his mind and he just hadn't noticed. Now knowing he was wrong, and no doubt delusional, Stanford hung his head, and prepared to slam the door on the salesman.

"Sir, would you like to buy a Stan-Vac vacuum? Stan-Vac: It sucks more than anything!"

"No I would not like to buy a..." Stanford trailed off, as he got a better look at the salesman's face. "Did you say... Stan-Vac?"

The salesman winked at him. Stanford could barely contain his shock and elation.

"Yup! It's a real standout item on the market right now! Guaranteed to meet all of your standards! If you would just let me stand in for a moment!"

"B-by all means, come in! Right away!"

Picking up his vacuum, the man entered the house. They walked straight to the kitchen. Everyone watched in confusion as he drew the blinds fully, plugged in the vacuum, and turned it up to high setting. Over the deafening noise of the vacuum, he yelled at them;

"The Stan-Vac is real great at getting rid of bugs!"

"Bugs? But it's a vacuum!"

"Yup, really great at drowning out those pesky bugs!"

Suddenly, he knew what the man was talking about. Not the insect type bugs (although he did have a problem with those) but the listening kind. Wire-taps, and other listening devices. Catching on, he helped the man search through the kitchen. They turned up one, haphazardly duct taped underneath the kitchen table. No one had even noticed it. A chill spread through him, as he realized that someone had been hearing their conversations all that time.

"Whoops! It looks like I caught some kind of phone-cord here!" He yelled, right at the wire tap. "Oh no, take that away from the vacuum before it's-"

The wire was thrown to the ground and crushed underneath his heel. Stanford let go of the breath he didn't even notice he had been holding. Now, all of them looked towards the so-called salesman. Slowly, the man took off his beard, and fake eyebrows. He got rid of his false nose, and took off his shoes. He lost at least two inches in height, there must have been some sort of trick to the shoes that he was wearing. Finally, the man pulled off his wig, underneath the wig there was a bald cap. And underneath that bald cap, there was more hair. Eventually, the man took himself apart, revealing bit-by-bit who they already knew was underneath.

"GRUNKLE STAN?!"

"STANLEY!"

Stanford was the first person to reach his brother. And when he did, he punched him straight in the jaw. Fiddleford's right hook followed, and they both aimed an uppercut at him. Stanley fell backwards, rubbing his face and staring up at them.

"You... You're standing again!"

Almost instantly, Stanford fell back to his wheelchair again, as his leg twinged painfully. But he had done it. Stanley had finally driven him crazy enough to make miracles happen. Stanford would have punched the shocked look off his face if he wasn't feeling so happy. Well that, and the children screamed, and dog-piled on top of him.

Hope and happiness swelled up inside of him like a balloon. His entire body ached with protest, it hurt so much. Yet suddenly, the pain didn't matter. The stunning loss of breath, the choking gasp that snagged inside of his mouth, none of it mattered. He grinned. He smiled so widely that his cheeks started to hurt. That feeling of eating a sugary-sweet yet incredibly sour candy had taken over his mouth, and he could hardly bare to grin anymore. But his brother was back. Stanley had returned from the grave, he was here!

It seemed like such a blessing that he could have gotten up and done a jig. yet his leg gave away from protest when he tried to do this. Stanford had to settle for staring at his brother, taking the sight of his face in, as he was attacked with righteous anger at his deception, and affection.

"Grunkle Stan!"

"K-kids!"

"We thought you were dead!"

"Well yeah, that was kind of the idea." Stanley said, turning pink in the face.

Stanford's shock and happiness turned to anger. Stanley had faked his death! He had cried! He had made all of them cry over his death! The children, they had been restless, completely destroyed. He had not even thought to give them a hint about what he was going to do! How could Stanley actually fake his death, only to reveal that he actually was alive! Stanford saw a bright, ruby-red.

"YOU KNUCKLEHEAD!" Stanford yelled, he had found his voice again when he heard the twin's shaky voices. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US YOU WERE GOING TO FAKE YOUR DEATH?!"

"I thought you wouldn't..."

His cheeks turned even brighter, and he mumbled something under his breath. But Stanford didn't need super strong hearing to know what his brother had said.

"Of course we care if you're dead!" He growled.

"Yeah!" The twins chimed in.

"And what about Soos? Someone better call him by the way, last I heard he was trying to perform a séance."

Fiddleford picked up his phone and dialed Soos' number. He put it on speaker phone as Soos picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Soos."

"Mister Pines are you saying Jésus or hey S- ARRRAAAGH! GHOST! GHOST ON THE OTHER END OF THE PHONE LINE! IF ANYONE'S LISTENING SAVE YOURSELVES! MY BOSS IS BACK FROM THE-"

"Soos, I'm, I'm not a ghost. I faked my death, alright?"

"Y-you, what?"

"I'm alright Soos. I'm alive."

"I'll be right there."

The other end of the line went dead. Fiddleford hung up, and now the attention was all brought back to Stanley. He was still sitting on the floor after being punched and tackled. He rubbed his jaw, which was even more scarlet than the rest of his face was.

"Grunkle Stan we thought you cared about us!"

"Yeah! How come you lied like that?!" Dipper asked.

Stanley sighed, and hung his head.

"Look, kids. All of you. I've never really been that great of a guy. I'm a screw-up alright? I keep messing up, I keep hurting you." No one failed to notice that he looked at Mabel when he said this. "You're all better off without me-"

"So you're just going to keep faking your death and leave?!"

"I kind of have to keep faking my death kid. Start a new life. Or maybe I'll just impersonate Shermy instead, who knows?"

"You are not impersonating our brother Stanley Pines!"

"Yeesh, relax, it was a joke Sixer."

"Well it wasn't funny."

"Look." He sighed again, and pushed back his hair. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for messing with your heads by faking my death, that you got caught up in my problems this summer. I'm especially sorry that I took my anger out on you. Both of you kids."

"Grunkle Stan..."

Mabel's bottom lip started to tremble again, and she tried to blink away her tears. Yet to everyone's surprise, it was Dipper who started to cry. He gave a choking sob, and threw his arms around his neck. Stan made a few choking sounds as he squeezed tighter, but they could see that his eyes were turning pink as well. Mabel joined in on the hug.

Stanford, shakily balancing on his one good leg managed to hope over and fall on the ground next to his brother. He hugged Stanley as well. Fiddleford sniffled too, and attempted to wipe his eyes. Then Soos arrived, and before anyone knew what had happened, they were all sitting on the floor, their arms wrapped around Stanley as they cried.

So they cried. They cried and cried until they could cry no more. Until they felt as if a cheese grater had run across the lining of their throats, stripping it to the bone. Until their lungs seemed to swell larger with every hyperventilated breath, threatening to burst. Their eyes itched horribly with the salty stinging of tears, and rubbing only made it worse. But they rubbed their eyes anyway, making room for more tears to slide down their puffy red cheeks. Their noses dribbled, their eyes ran, and their hands grew weary of pushing away the tears. But eventually, there were no more tears to shed, they all dried up.

Fiddleford still hiccuped quietly, as did Mabel. Stanley and Stanford had lost their glasses on the floor in the process. It was just easier to take them off while they cried, than constantly take them off. Somehow, Waddles had found his way into the mix, he was trying to comfort his owner, giving her hand a reassuring lick. Mabel quietly started to scratch him behind the ears, only giving the occasional hiccup.

Eventually, Fiddleford stood. He got glasses of water for everyone. They all drank in silence. A box of tissues was produced. They all dabbed at the corner of their eyes, and blew their noses. The tissues piled high. Suddenly, everyone became aware of just how tired they were. Soos flopped on to his back. Dipper copied him, their heads were touching. It was Dipper who broke the silence.

"Are you really going to leave?" He asked. "Just run away?"

"Don't get me wrong kid, I know I have a lot to make up, to all of you, but now isn't the best time for that, and it'll take a while before... I'll just be blunt here: it'll be a while before you guys should forgive me, and I need to lay low for a few months. The timing isn't ideal. I've got a boat waiting for me out in the marina. It's leaving the States in a couple days."

"A boat?"

"The North Pole calls." Stanley answered. "From what I've heard, there's good gold in the Yukon of Canada."

"C-Canada?"

"Mister Pines, you can't just go to Canada!"

"Then where am I supposed to go?"

"Why not head on another road trip?" Fiddleford suggested.

"I'm not sure about you guys, but I'm sick of that RV." Stanley answered.

"What about... A houseboat?" Stanford slowly asked. "Sure it wouldn't be as glamorous as our plans for the- er, ignore that last part. Get a houseboat, sail along the Columbia for a bit, head out to the ocean!"

"That's... A good idea." Stanley said. "But I don't think I'd be able to manage something that large on my own. I'd need some kind of, many that was handy and knows at least thirty different uses for duct tape."

Slowly, a smile split across Soos' face.

"I think I know just the guy."

"And I'd need deckhands, a second mate, and..." He looked at Stanford as he said; "A co-captain."

"I have been thinking about retirement for a while now. The business has been doing fine without me at the helm in my leave of absence. Maybe it's time that I formally resign." Fiddleford replied. "Plus if the children agree to go they're going to need a lot more adult supervision. What do you think kids?"

Dipper looked at Mabel. Mabel looked at Dipper. They seemed to be having a silent conversation with their eyes alone. Then, they said in unison;

"We want to go!"

Now, all eyes were focused on Stanford. When he opened his mouth, only a croak came out. How had everything changed so suddenly? It felt like minutes ago he had been mourning the death of his brother. He had blamed himself for the loss, thinking that it was his fault Stanley felt he wasn't worth anything to them. Yet, throughout their trip, and the time he had thought his brother was gone, Stanford had discovered just how not true that was. He wanted to make up with Stanley, to forget about all the unpleasant memories of the past and move on. The time they had spent together had caused him to feel this hope again.

For a time, he had actually thought it was possible, that by the end of the summer, they would finally be back to normal. Discovering he had lost Stanley before he could ever try to patch things up with his twin had been paralyzing, awful. He could feel the same controlling feeling taking over his body now. He was frozen, speechless. But not out of anguish, and shock, but because he could not believe things had turned around so quickly. That Stanley actually wanted to make things up, he wanted to go away on a boat.

"You alright there Ford?"

"Ford?"

"Don't go." A suspiciously triangular voice whispered inside his mind. "Think about your research, you need to stay here in Gravity Falls, perfect that grand unified theory of weirdness and all that, not go away again! Gravity Falls needs ya' Ford!"

"I... I hear there are reports of dobhar-chú in the Columbian River. They would make for an interesting study."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't do it! You'll regret it!"

Stanford squashed the little voice in his head, and smiled at his brother.

"I'd love to."

Nothing in the universe could prepare the world for the havoc the Pines' family's next misadventures would bring.

Fin