This is primarily just an idea I got, and I don't know if I'll continue it, but it's an AU I always liked.

Stan thought he saw something in his peripheral, and turned in his chair to look at the security screen outside, wondering if some of Wendy's punk friends were trying to vandalize the Shack again, almost falling out of his chair when he instead saw ZOMBIES staggering across the property.

He leapt out of his chair and bolted for the elevator, every second seeming too long as he hoped and prayed Dipper and Mabel were okay. They HAD to be. He shoved the vending machine door open, hearing the zombies smash at the doors and windows, first running upstairs with the hope that they might have made it inside and barricaded the door.

The upstairs was empty and the doors open. Damn it. He grabbed the nearest blunt object—a bat—and ran back downstairs, right as a small group of zombies came around the corner. They groaned and claws for him, and he beat them back, just as he heard Dipper let out a yell and Mabel cry out for him.

He ran in just in time to see Dipper being held up by a zombie, and swung hard, the zombie going down like a sack of rocks. Not taking any chances, he stomped down hard on the zombie's head to finish it off, panting hard.

"YOU TWO! ATTIC! NOW!" he commanded, pointing to the stairs. Dipper and Mabel just stared, dumbfounded.

"Grunkle Stan…!?" Dipper stammered. Stan snarled.

"I said NOW!" THAT got them going. Stan turned his attention back to the zombies that were closing in. "Alright you undead jerks, you ready to die twice!?" He began following the kids, beating back at any zombies who were following them, through the living room and to the foyer.

Just as the kids were running up the stairs, one of the zombies got a grip on his bat and snapped it in two. Glad his paranoia always paid off, Stan shoved his hands in his pockets, slipping his brass knuckles on, and began punching them instead. Less effective than the bat, but at least they stayed stunned for a moment.

Another hoard came through and one of them slashed at him. He jerked back out of the way—and right back into another zombie, who lurched forward and bit him hard through his clothes into the shoulder. He shouted in pain, reaching back and snapping the zombie's neck around, clenching a hand to his shoulder as he stumbled up the stairs, feeling his head swim violently.

'Gotta get to the kids,' he kept thinking, forcing down the violent surge of ravenous hunger that was taking hold of his gut. 'Gotta make sure they're okay…' He glanced back at the zombies following him up the stairs, and hurried up, grabbing hold of the clock on the landing and shoving it down, hoping it held them off long enough.

He hurried to their attic room and pounded on the door for a moment before remembering to use the doorknob, hurrying in, coughing and groaning. "Ugh…everything hurts…" he said, mostly to himself as he shut the door and leaned against it.

Dipper was saying something, but the words sounded muddled, like he was trying to hear underwater. A wave of nausea slammed into him, and he fell to his knees, clenching his hand into the bite mark on his shoulder. He managed to look up, vaguely recognizing his niece and nephew slowly backing away, holding each other tightly, identical looks of horror on their faces.

His mouth began watering against his will, reason starting to leave his brain. He wanted to get to them…wanted to…to…

A loud crashing sound behind them made them look away from him, a zombie having shattered the window and was crawling in and reaching out to them. Mabel screamed, covering her head with her arms, Dipper covering Mabel with his body—

Stan lurched forward at hearing Mabel screaming, diving right past them and punching the zombie right back out the window with all his might. He snarled down at the zombies staring back up. 'MY KIDS. MINE. PROTECT. MINE. MINE!'

Crashing from behind accompanied by screams from the kids made him turn his attention back to the attic door, where zombies were trying to crash through. He snarled, practically vaulting over the kids on the floor to smash his fist through the door and tear the zombies apart.

Dipper fumbled for his journal, close to tears at the impossible situation they were in, his hand pausing mid-air when he saw the black light illuminating invisible ink on the opened pages. On auto-pilot, he shoved the pages aside until he found the section on The Undead, and found the solution.

"Previously thought to be invincible, their skulls can be shattered by a perfect three-part harmony…!" Dipper intoned, his hands shaking. "Three-part harmony, how can we create that…!?"

Mabel bit her lip, looking at Stan, who was growling and snarling inhumanly as he tore zombies to pieces. "…If Grunkle Stan….if he….we could sing!" she wailed, hugging Waddles to her tightly. "B-but he's…!"

Dipper shut his journal, taking off his hat and running a shaking hand through his head, looking around hopelessly before his eyes landed on his bedside drawer. "…Mabel, does that machine have a disk player?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?" Mabel asked. Dipper opened the drawer and took out a CD.

"If we sing to a song, then that could make the harmony!" he said. "Do you know the lyrics to 'Disco Girl'?"

That was awhile ago. The most horrifying night of their summer so far, bar none.

Dipper's idea had worked, and the zombies' heads blew up, leaving one giant mess. Very luckily, the two newest-turned—Soos and Grunkle Stan—remained intact. Dipper found a cure for zombification, and hurried into the kitchen to get the cinnamon while Mabel ran into the area of the Shack used to make new attractions to get the jar of formaldehyde.

A short scream alerted Dipper that something was wrong, and he hurried to where Mabel was, seeing Soos closing in on her, his personality having diminished even more to where he didn't even react to her pleading.

Dipper looked around wildly for SOME kind of thing to use as a weapon when he felt someone knock him to the side as he rushed past, looking up and seeing Grunkle Stan tackling Soos to the floor and away from Mabel.

THAT threw Dipper for a loop. He figured Stan would be going for Mabel, not Soos. Mabel stood pressed back against the corner with her arms hugging the jar of formaldehyde tightly, staring with terrorized eyes at the zombified two. Stan pinned Soos back, then turned his head to Mabel.

"G…GO….!"

Mabel squeaked and hurried past over to Dipper, who ushered her out before shutting the door and locking it until the cure was made.

They were lucky everything they needed was somewhere in the house. It took less than fifteen minutes to make it, and all they had to do was somehow get it into them. Dipper figured that since getting them to drink it would be too difficult, the next best thing would be to douse their infected bite marks with it, and then when they were lucid enough to, to keep a cloth soaked with the solution pressed to the bite marks until they were completely cured.

Dipper decided he was going to be the one to put the solution on them, and instructed Mabel to be his backup in case the worst happened. They both knew that if the cure didn't work, or if they were overpowered, then they had to do what they had to do to survive.

They were just grateful it didn't come to that. Same as when they left, Stan had Soos overpowered and pinned to the floor, and didn't move when Dipper came closer with the solution and poured it out on their bite wounds.

The bite marks foamed and fizzled in a way that made Dipper ill, and both men cried out in pain and collapsed on the floor. Within minutes, Dipper saw them regain some color, and deemed it safe for Mabel to come help him soak some cloths and put it over the bites.

Soos and Stan were out cold for that part, which the twins were glad for. They didn't want either man to have to suffer through having the zombification infection being drawn out.

Soos seemed to be doing extremely well. He regained some lifelike color to him within minutes, and began breathing easy after two hours. Dipper lifted the cloth to check on the bite wound, and was heavily relieved when he saw that it had stopped foaming and even looked like it was healing.

Grunkle Stan, on the other hand…

Well, the cure apparently WORKED, didn't it? He was walking, talking, breathing, seemed perfectly normal. His skin had a more ashen tone to it, and his eyes looked a little greyer, but other than that, nobody noticed a difference.

Nobody seemed to notice that he wore a few sprays extra of cologne to cover an odd scent about him.

Nobody seemed to notice his joints cracked a little extra loudly when he did something more strenuous than walking.

Nobody seemed to notice that he almost never slept anymore…

Nobody outside the twins, anyway.

Mabel sat curled up on Stan's TV room chair, watching some TV show with an oddly sober expression on her face, looking like she wasn't even paying attention to the program. Dipper was sitting on the kitchen table, writing quietly in the journal.

The cure for zombification comes with restrictions.

The first is time. The sooner you treat the infected, the more effective the treatment will be. It is best to treat the affected within the first twenty-four hours to maximize effectiveness and minimize pain.

The second appears to be age. A child or twenty-something will have no problem responding to treatment. However, an older adult over the age of fifty—

Dipper's pen froze on the page when Stan walked into the kitchen. "It's bedtime kids," Stan said. "Off you get."

Mabel walked out of the TV room and toward the stairs, pausing, then turning back around and hugging Stan tightly. Stan smiled and hugged her back, petting her head before nudging her for the stairs.

Dipper followed, kicking off his shoes and setting his hat on the nightstand. He sat back on the bed with his journal as Mabel changed into her nightdress and crawled under the covers, then pulled her pillow over her head.

Dipper made a mental note to go buy earplugs the next morning, clicking off the lamp and tugging the blanket over his head before clicking on his penlight, clenching it between his teeth and closing his eyes tightly.

Almost as if on cue, he heard the short-lived scream of SOME kind of animal yelp out, and be promptly silenced. His hand shook as he pressed the pen to the journal page again. He knew when he left the Shack to go into town, he'd see another patch of red in the grass outside, maybe a few spots on the porch. He'd notice a small trail of it lead to the Bottomless Pit, if he looked closely enough, which he had no desire to.

And he'd definitely notice his Grunkle Stan in a much better mood in the morning.

—will suffer some…side-effects.