Part 2. There is no strict continuity for this series, so a lot of this takes place before the first story.

...

Stan sighed, running a hand down his face. Trust Stanford to leave at the worst possible moment. His no-show brother was busy playing smart guy in some classy university, and there was currently a hell spawn demon lying passed out on the floor. He had to give this to Mabel: she knew how to use that grappling hook right. When the kids showed up on his doorstep dragging an unresponsive body along, he'd assumed the worst.

"No dead bodies in the Shack."

"But Grunkle Stan, he's not dead! At least, I don't think he's-" Mabel shuddered, sharing a dark look with her brother. Well, this couldn't be good.

"Okay, how 'bout you knuckleheads tell me what you did this time?" he tried to sound calm, ignoring the knot of dread that was slowly making itself comfortable in his stomach.

The kids assaulted him with a panicked barrage of words, interrupting each other and all in all freaking out. It only took Stan to hear Bill Cipher and shook his hand to know that they were in some deep shit.

"So let me get this straight. You brought Bill Cipher, the evil nutcase who almost destroyed the world, back from the dead by shaking his hand, and then knocked him out with a grappling hook."

"Uh, yes?" Mabel's voice sounded impossibly small. Stan tried his hardest not to laugh, or cry, or start swearing up a storm in front of the kids. You make your nerdy brother erase your mind just to get rid of that monstrosity, only for said monstrosity to come back kicking. "I don't know why he looks like that, though." his niece added as an afterthought.

Stan looked back at the lanky form spread on the ground, and ran several scenarios though in his head. He could stuff the guy in a suitcase and send him to Mexico, successfully ridding himself of any involvement. He could throw the demon off a cliff and hope he doesn't come back. He could-

Damn it. The freak was supposed to be dead, not lying on the floor of his TV room.

Stan looked back at the body, and made a split second decision.

…

"LET ME OUTTA HERE! STANLEY PINES, DO YA HEAR ME? I'LL BURN THIS WHOLE PLACE DOWN IF YOU DON'T-"

Stan knocked his fist down hard on the closet door, the demon breaking off his rant with an angry yap. "Shut it, would ya? We're gonna wait 'till Pointdexter comes back, and then figure out what to do with ya. Until then, keep your yap shut, or I'll shut it for ya."

The demon fell mercifully silent. Finally some peace and quiet. Now if only Stan's heart would stop beating so damn loud, that'd be great.

"Listen, Fez, you can't tell Sixer 'bout me."

The man snorted. "Oh yeah, and why's that?"

"BECAUSE HE'LL- Look. If you let me go now, I'll leave to fix this mess, and be outta your hair forever. Win-win on both sides. Got a deal?"

"No."

"Bu sbe shpx'f fnxr- FINE! What do ya want, Stanley? Money? I GOT PLENTY OF KNOWLEDGE ON HOW TO GET THAT SO IF YOU'D JUST LET ME GO."

Stan ignored him and left downstairs for the kitchen, planning to get something a bit stronger than a pitt cola. The angry rants and weird, alter-dimensional cursing didn't stop for a while, and by then Stan figured the demon's throat was raw to the point where he simply couldn't scream anymore.

At least he sent the kids to Wendy's house. They were safe. Well, safer than they would be in here, at least.

That's when he heard the car's engine roar in the driveway. A moment later it shut off, and Stanford burst through the back door. "Stanley! I'm here, what's-?!"

"Shhh! Keep it down or that freak'll hear." Stan pointed a warning finger toward the ceiling.

The older twin's face turned into something akin to shock before he collapsed on the chair, the briefcase he was holding clattering on the ground. "So it's true, then." Ford rubbed his face, his elbows resting on the kitchen table. Despite the panic and loss that Stan was feeling right now, he figured that his brother had it worse. Judging by the disturbing entrees Ford had put in the journal, the triangle sure did a number on him. Stan felt a surge of anger towards the demon.

"About the psycho in the closet? Yep."

"How did this happen? How did he- I thought we-"

"Got rid of 'im? Hope'd so, too." Stanley let out a laugh. "Got ya to erase all my memories, and for what? Couldn't even get that right, huh? Couldn't even." he slammed the glass on the table, a few drops of the strong stuff spilling over the edge. "Couldn't even lose my own mind without screwing it up, huh?"

"Stanley, this isn't your fault."

"Wow, that's a first."

Ford gave him an exasperated look. "It's my folly as well. I had just assumed Bill was dead. I couldn't possibly imagine he would come back, and didn't make sure that he really was defeated."

"They never check the pulse, huh?" Stan quipped. Despite the panic and dread the conman was feeling right now, he figured that his brother had it worse. Judging by the disturbing entrees Ford had put in the journal, the triangle sure did a number on him. Stan felt a surge of anger towards the demon, only to be halted as Ford stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor.

"Well, I won't make the same mistake again." He marched out of the kitchen, heading toward the vending machine.

Stan trailed behind him warily. "Wait, where're you going?"

"I just have to get the quantum destabilizer and-"

"Wow wow wait, slow down a sec. You're not planning on killing the guy, are ya?"

"Of course. What other choice is there?"

"Ford, you can't just kill someone."

"He's not someone, Stan! He's a monster! A monster that, should I remind you, tried to kill us without remorse! Tried to kill the children without remorse! And now you're telling me you just want to let him go-"

"That's not what I said." he grabbed Ford by the arm, halting him in his tracks. "Look, how d'ya think the kid'll react? How'd ya think Mabel would? She sure as hell'd be thrilled to find her Uncle a murderer."

"Mabel would-she'd be-"

"Fine?"

"She'd understand."

"..." A cynical look from Stan was all it took for Ford's resolve to crumble. The man leaned against the wall and put his face in his hands. "You called me in the middle of a lecture. I had to leave right in front of a class of 200 physics students."

"Heh, considering your choice of words back there, I doubt they'd invite you over again anytime soon."

Ford gave him a tired glare. "What do we do then?"

"Well, pretty sure the freak's harmless right now. I've locked 'im in a closet for God's sake, if he can't get outta that I'm pretty sure he can't cause another shit-storm like he did last year." Stan smirked. "I say we make him an exhibit."

…

They didn't make him an exhibit, much to Stan's disappointment. When the demon had (quite literally) come out of the closet, he was surprisingly well behaved. He cast a wary look at Ford, and said nothing, his back hunched in an awkward angle that to Stan made him seem like he wanted to hide from them.

The rest of the week the Pines family spent getting used to the new occupant of the Mystery shack. Cipher spent most of his effort avoiding everyone, so every time he would turn up in the most absurd places. Stan once found him hiding behind the couch, and decided not to question it.

Despite all the times the demon had claimed in "knowing things", he didn't know a single thing about how to be human. Stan realized this once he heard the conversation coming from the bathroom.

"That's a tooth brush! You brush your teeth with it!" Mabel's cheerful voice could be heard all the way across the hall.

"I'm not an idiot, kid. I know what a toothbrush is."

There was a pause. "You're holding it wrong."

The demon replied with an annoyed snarl. The girl giggled, seemingly unbothered by the demon's hostility.

For some weird reason, his niece decided that making friends with that walking disaster of a bean pole was a good idea. Stan decided not to interfere, for now, except in one way. "You harm a hair on her head and I'll knock the yellow right off that stupid vest o' yours. Got it?" The jerk didn't reply, choosing to glare at him instead. "Got it?"

There was a flash of fear in the other's eyes before he surrendered, his shoulders drooping in a defeated hunch. "Yes."

"Good. Now get outta here before I take that bowtie and strangle ya with it."

Cipher didn't waste any time, ducking around the corner as fast as possible without seeming like he was running away. So, the little bugger was afraid of him. That was good. That was probably the reason why the demon didn't bother causing any temper tantrums or causing a huge nuisance. As far as Stan was concerned, that was a pretty good win.

...

Unfortunately, Bill couldn't disappear out of sight completely, and problems like these would arise.

"Ugh, I feel like an overgrown bush."

"You look like one, too." Mabel remarked, staring at the dark brown forest that had appeared on the demon's chin.

"UGH, IT'S SO ITCHY." Cipher whined, scratching at his face. "What's the point of having hair on your mouth, anyway?"

"It...makes you look more manly and stuff?" the girl shrugged. "Though I doubt that'll help any." she remarked under her breath, causing Stan to snort behind his Gold Chains for Old Men magazine.

"You humans are weird. How do I get it off?"

"Uh, Grunkle Stan?"

"No."

"But-"

"Sweetie, I am not teaching that thing how to shave. If the corn chip really knows "lots of things", he'll know how to at least do that."

"Wow, well, sorry I don't know basic human toiletries, Fez. Kinda too busy to pay attention to any of that pointless junk, but okay."

"Too busy, what? Destroying worlds?"

"Grunkle Stan," Mabel pouted, "Just teach him so he stops looking like some skinny homeless guy."

So that's how Stan ended up in the bathroom, a razor in one hand, a squirming, protesting demon in the other. "Would it kill ya to hold still?"

"Yeah, because you wielding a sharp object to my face is exactly how I wanted to spend the day, Fez."

He flinched as the metal made contact with his skin, younger-looking man's whole body stiffening as Stan gripped him by the shoulder to keep him still. Cipher's slightly panicked gaze turned towards the mirror, then forcefully tore away, instead staring intently at the bathroom tiles. Well, that was weird.

They were halfway done when the demon suddenly squirmed out of Stan's grip, snatching the razor away and taking a step back. "I can do the rest fine." he remarked a bit defensively.

The con-man held up his hands in defeat. "Fine. Not like I wanted to baby you, anyway." He turned to leave, remarking over his shoulder: "Ya know, it's nice to hear a 'thank you' once in awhile...and you're supposed to look in the mirror when ya do it, genius." The demon had screwed his eyes shut, blindly running the blade down his cheek. That was kind of hilarious and kinda sad.

The taller man's eyes flew open, giving Stan a look that could even be described as self conscious. "I know that. Now will ya leave or are ya just gonna stare?"

Stan sighed, too tired of this to even reply, and left, closing the bathroom door on his way out.

…

"A triangle, really?" Dipper looked up from his laptop to give the demon a deadpan look.

"Unless you value your left-over sanity, Pine Tree, I suggest you shut it."

"I mean, it fits." Mabel piped up from her brother's side, propping her chin up in thought. "Even if it is kinda tacky."

"You're tacky." the demon muttered under his breath. Stan was starting to think that the "all powerful, all knowing, other-worldly being" Ford had warned him about was nothing more than an overgrown child.

That would explain the over-enthusiastic frat-boy party.

…

Whatever midnight snack Stan was planning to get at 2 in the morning was completely forgotten when he saw Bill hunched over in the middle of the kitchen, a knife pointed towards his right eye. Before his mind could even catch up with what was happening, Stan already by his side, ripping the kitchen appliance way in a panic. The demon offered no resistance, instead curling more into himself. "What the hell, Cipher?"

"This is your fault."

"What?"

The demon sprang away from Stan, pressing himself back against the kitchen counter. "I...you...THIS!" he pointed at his eye, the one he only a few moments ago was trying to gouge out. "I'm not supposed to have two eyes! I'm not supposed to have hair or skin or lungs or...I'M A BEING OF PURE ENERGY. I have POWER and KNOWLEDGE beyond ANYTHING YOUR TINY PRIMATE MIND COULD UNDERSTAND. And now you've trapped me in this STUPID HUMAN MEATSACK that feels cold and pain is gonna run outta juice and DIE if a few decades and-and-" he broke off, breathing heavily, hand clutching his chest.

"Woah, okay there, take it easy." Stan reached out to grasp the panicked man by the shoulder, only for Bill to flinch violently and scramble back with a panicked gaze.

"Don't touch me."

Stanley backed away, hands held up. "Okay, okay, just calm down, kid."

Cipher scowled at the nickname, but said nothing, watching the man warily. The two exchanged a silent staring contest as Stan tried to decide what the hell he should do. Leaving now seemed like a bad idea. Trusting the freak to not try maiming himself again was hard, and there was the fear that the demon would turn on him or one of the kids instead. Come to think of it, why didn't the triangle threaten them by now? Everyone was asleep, an easy and vulnerable target. And why was he still here? Leaving out the door in the middle of the night seemed like a pretty easy way to escape, so why didn't Cipher take it? He was so eager to leave before, what changed?

Well, he kinda has nowhere else to go.

Stanley sighed, chasing the memories of his pre-mystery shack days which had popped up in his mind quickly away. The old man went over to the top kitchen cabinet, pulling out a few glass bottles. The demon made a surprised noise behind him. "What're you doing?"

Stan slammed the bottle on the table, letting out a sigh. He was going to regret this. Still, if it meant calming this disaster down, he'll take whatever happens. "Let's get this over with."

A few minutes later, and the con-man was starting to question why he thought getting Bill Cipher drunk was a good idea.

"And then he said, ha ha, get this, he said I wanna see you try, buddy." the demon dissolved into cackles of laughter, spilling some of his drink. "And he had this stupid surprised look on his face, I can't even, almost made me sorry I fried him. Coulda kept him as a pet for Zanthar. Oh well." The demon took another swig of the drink while Stan tried to remember the number of the therapist he was recommended once. God knows he'll need one after this.

Well, at least he's not maiming himself. Or anyone else for that matter. Stan glimpsed at the skinny guy sitting next to him and wondered if this really was the same monster that had torn apart the whole town last summer. The same monster that was mercilessly ready to kill the kids. The same monster that he'd sacrificed his own mind to stop. The same monster that he'd erased out of existence with one solid punch. Thinking about that brought back memories that Stanley would rather sweep under the metaphorical rug and not touch again.

"I'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! PLEASE!"

"Who're you talking to?"

"He's gone, Mabel."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what this is or who you are or-"

"This has to work!"

The old man sighed tiredly, running a hand down his face. It was close to dawn already, and it was unlikely that he would get a glimpse of sleep before having to open up the Shack. Coffee it was then.

There was a surprising lack of insane chatter. Stan glanced to his side and saw that Bill had face planted on the table and was snoring, the glass tipped over on its side, drink spilling out.

The little bugger had passed out. That was fine, he looked like he needed it. Dragging him back on the couch seemed like a hassle, and waking the crazy demon up was a bad idea. Leaving him here, despite the questions the kids would surely ask, seemed like the better option.

Stan grabbed the glass, planning to get rid of all evidence of the substance before the younger twins woke up, when a shaky hand grabbed him by the sleeve, making the con man freeze in his tracks.

"Don't go…"

The voice was small, uncharacteristically so. Stanley snorted, prying the clingy hand away. "Yeah, tough luck, buddy." He turned to leave.

"Tell me a story first…"

The con man blinked, taken aback by the tone of the demand. The demon sounded more like a child more than anything. It was...weird. Too weird. And it made him uncomfortable for a reason he couldn't pinpoint. "Yeah...I'm gonna take a pass on that. Sorry, kid." Stan hurriedly left the kitchen, trying his hardest to not think about what had just happened.

…

"Stanley!"

"Gah!" As it turns out, not even coffee could solve old age. Stanley whirled around to face his twin, trying his best not to look like he just had a heart attack.

"Are you alright there?"

"Ha! I think I should be asking you that, Braniac." If Stanley looked tired, then Stanford looked like a Gobblewonker had just chewed him up and spit him out. The dark bags under his eyes had somehow gotten even darker, and he was pretty sure that shirt was serving its purpose for three days straight now. The older twin was wild and jumpy, and Stan couldn't help but remember the escapade a few nights ago, when Bill had looked quite the same. That was worrying for so many reasons.

Stanford rolled his eyes, grabbing his brother by the arm. "Come on, I need to show you something."

"Uh, would that something involve your missing socks? 'Cause if it does, my bet's on the gnomes."

Sixer ignored that, dragging Stanley out of the Shack without another word.

"Okay, there's a crack in the tree. Great. Can I go now?" Standing in the middle of the woods, Stan Pines was starting to wonder if his brother finally cracked under all that paranoia. Ha ha, cracked.

Ford sighed in frustration. "It's not just a crack, Stanley."

"Yeah, it's a very big crack."

The older twin silently pointed at the spot near the trunk. Stanley squinted, leaning in to get a better look.

Oh. There was a crack in the air, too.

The researcher reached for his pocket, producing a device that looked halfway between a walkie-talkie and a video game console. "The readings show a very big fluctuation in particle behavior at this exact point. Not to mention that the probability ratios are completely off. I don't think the laws of physics quite work here."

"Okay, and that means…?"

"I think this is a tear through reality itself. An unstable barrier between dimensions."

"...Really really big crack." Stan slowly sat down on a nearby log. Just when he thought the weirdness was over, it comes back to smack him around the head. "Wait, so was this left over from last summer?"

"Most likely yes."

"Great." Stan put his face in his hands. "So on the other side, it's-?"

"Judging from how unstable the laws of physics are around this spot, the Nightmare Realm." Ford came over and sat down next to Stanley, a tired look on his face. "But that's not the worst part."

"Of course it isn't."

Ford took of his glasses, cleaning them with shaky, caffeinated hands. "The crack is growing. I've been monitoring it's progress for a while, and by the looks of it it's rate is only a few millimeters per day. Not much, but still concerning."

"Great. Just great." Stan hit him on the shoulder. "Why didn't ya tell anybody, ya idiot?"

"I did not want to worry you or the kids. I had hoped I would be able to close it on my own."

"So how'd that work out for ya?"

"Yes, I get it Stanley, thank you." Despite the annoyed tone, Ford smiled fondly at his brother.

The was a moment of silence. The call of birds was slowly disappearing along with the setting sun. A small breeze shifted the branches around the cracked tree, paying no mind to the supernatural implications it must have. If Stan was a poet, he would have thought of it as a metaphor. As it was though, he was more concerned about the growing threat of another apocalypse on their hands.

"So what do we do?" the con man turned to his twin, who was looking at the tree with an unreadable gaze.

"I-I have a friend that might be able to help."

"Don't tell me it's the McGucket guy."

"Oh no of course not. I'm not dragging Fiddleford into this mess again. It's...not someone from here."

"Wait, don't tell me: you have some weird interdimensional buddies I don't know about?"

"Well, she had helped me quite a lot-"

"Wow wow, wait. She?" Stanley laughed, slapping his twin on the back. "So while I was stuck in this dump of a town, you were off getting hot with some sci-fi ladies?"

"...She is a foot taller than both of us and has seven eyes."

"...oh. Not human. Got it."

Ford stood up, the younger twin following soon afterward. "That aside, she is quite an important ally, and a resource of unbounded knowledge that I have to admit I am in need of right now. I'm sure this can be fixed with her help."

"Seems like you're putting a lot of faith in this lady."

"I owe her my life."

"Right." Stanley glanced back at the dim light of the Shack. "And what do we do about the other 'source of unlimited knowledge' living on our couch?"

Ford's face darkened. "We cannot tell Cipher about this. This is what he wanted all along. For him to find out he has another shot at his plan…" the man visibly shuddered, and Stanley immediately regretted bringing the demon up.

"Okay, keep it a secret, got it."

"And don't let him wander into the woods."

"Jeez, what am I, his babysitter." Stan muttered with a scowl.

"Stanley please." Ford suddenly sounded like his years. "The least we could do is take responsibility for that monster. But I need your help."

"Yeah, yeah. I got your back, Brainiac, don't worry." Responsibility. Stan had to admit it was fitting. He was the one who was supposed to destroy Bill. He was the one that failed.

"I'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING, PLEASE!"

He was the one to deal with the consequences.