"You serious? That's in spitting distance of the shack!" Stanley was shocked, to say the least. Thirty years of searching for his brother's damned journals, and Dipper had found it well within walking distance of Stanford's house. "I outta pop Ford upside his big nerdy head for that one!"

Stanford Pines shot his brother a look from across the dinner table, carefully placing his knife down on the napkin before replying. "In my defense, not only were you not supposed to get all three journals and reactivate the portal, but Fiddleford and I designed the tree to be hyperrealistic, and virtually undetectable. It originally disguised a hidden bunker." Ford paused, glancing between Dipper and Mabel. "Don't go in there, by the way. To even access the bunker, you need to climb the tree and pull a hidden lever that's a hundred feet up. And once you're inside, there's a lot of weapons that are far more dangerous than a crossbow. And a security room that will crush you if you're not careful. So don't go near it, alright?"

"For once, I'm with Ford. That place sounds dangerous, and I don't want you getting hurt." Stanley said, the frustration over thirty years of searching fading into concern for his niece and nephew. No matter what trouble they got into, he could never stay mad at them for very long. And if it hadn't been for Dipper, Stanley likely would've never found the journals to begin with, so he let it slide in favor of more pressing matters. As long as Dipper and Mabel stayed away from Ford's spooky-scary apocalypse bunker, he considered himself satisfied.

"Yeah, about that… Is it the same one with the terrifying shape shifting monster? And the cute little caterpillars? Because we've totally been there." Mabel recalled this memory as if were nothing, and happily returned to the slightly overcooked hamburger helper in front of her.

At this, Ford went very pale. His fork dropped against the plate with a loud clang, splattering bits of ground beef across the tablecloth. "You... went into the bunker?!"

Dipper was quite proud of the clever way he'd discovered the bunker, and assumed it wasn't too big of a deal. "Yeah, a few weeks ago. We figured we might find more about you and your journals in there. Things did go awry...but it was nothing we couldn't handle."

"Now, hang on just a minute! Wasn't it you who promised he'd only use that journal for self defense?! And not go looking for trouble?!" Stanley was livid. Dipper and Mabel could have gotten hurt or killed, based on what Ford and Mabel were saying. And if the past thirty years were any indication, Stanley would never have found them.

Both Dipper and Mabel looked ashamed. Sure, they weren't looking for trouble on purpose, but they now knew exactly what their Grunkle Stan meant when he set that rule.

"We were just looking for the author…" Dipper said, quietly, not wanting to admit that he'd broken a rule and made a mistake. "And anyways, wasn't it you who promised that he didn't have any more bombshell secrets about the town?"

"I've lied about this town for thirty years, one more didn't hurt! And you would've found the darn author just as easy if you'd kept your end of the bargain! You could've gotten killed and I would've never even known about it!" Both of them were so wrapped up in their shouting match that neither noticed that Ford had grabbed Mabel and had her huddled behind him in the far corner of the room.

"Mabel, you scraped your knee outside this morning and the blood was red, so I'm assuming you're not the shapeshifter. I want you to listen to me very carefully. The Dipper and Stan in front of us might not really be Dipper and Stan." Ford's hand twitched as he gripped the small triangular pistol attached to his hip, and took aim in Stan and Dipper's general direction. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened in that bunker, so I can figure out which one is real."

"Grunkle Ford, wait! The shapeshifter is definitely back in the bunker! Dipper and Grunkle Stan are real!" Mabel cried, grabbing for the gun.

"You're sure, Mabel?" Ford asked, raising the gun towards the ceiling instead of the dinner table now, but holding his right hand on Mabel to keep her between him and the wall. He never took his eyes off Dipper and Stan, steeling his nerves for if he had to shoot one of them, reminding himself that he was aiming for the shapeshifter, not his family.

"Yes, I'm sure! Dipper wanted us to help him find the author, er, you, and he got me, Soos, and Wendy to help him out. I figured out your nerdy invisible ink trick, and Dipper used that to find your creepy bunker, and I tried to get him to confess his love to Wendy, and then Soos found a laptop, and Dipper was calling for my help and I thought he was joking, and then Wendy almost died, and then there were two of her, and then Dipper hit the shapeshifter with the axe, and then Soos and I froze it in y-your c-cryo-c-c-... f-freezy thing-" Ford dropped the gun the second he noticed Mabel crying, and knelt down so his face was level with hers.

"Mabel, it's okay. You're not in trouble, and I'm not going to hurt Dipper or Stan. I believe you, they're not the shapeshifter." He put a six fingered hand on her tiny shoulder. "I believe you, Mabel." With that, Mabel buried her face against Ford and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her sweater, and tried to dry up her tears.

"Ford, what the hell?!" Stanley allowed himself this swear word, his favorite niece was in tears, seemingly at the fault of his brother. Dipper didn't say a word, he just ran to his sister's side, trying to pull her away from Ford. "I can't turn my back for five seconds without-"

"G-Grunkle Stan, he thought one of you was the shapeshifter!" Mabel sniffled through her tears.

"I did take out my gun, but I would never fire it at anyone unless I was absolutely sure it was the shapeshifter."

"Yeah, and how would you tell? You don't just pull out a science gun in front of a kid, Ford! You could have asked first!" Stanley turned almost red with rage, he wasn't the best influence on the kids, but this was ridiculous!

"Oh, gee, I only raised it from birth, and encountered several other members of its species in more than a few dimensions. These things can take the form of anything they see, they don't die, and they. Hate. Humans. Of course I'm going to use a gun! A twelve year old could figure it out, Stan!"

"...Well he's got ya there…" Dipper said in a small voice, still clinging to Mabel.

"Grunkle Stan, he's just trying to protect us... Please don't fight. I'm okay..!" Mabel quickly wiped her face and put on a smile for Stan, "See? Let's finish dinner." All she wanted was for her two estranged Great Uncles to get along again, and this was not helping.

"...You're still in trouble for going in the bunker in the first place. No Ducktective for a week." Stan knelt down to Mabel's level, scooping her up in his big arms and setting her on his shoulder. "But yeah, I get why Ford did what he did. I don't like it, but I get it."

Mabel and Dipper both pouted a little at the punishment, but it certainly could have been worse. Mabel leaned against Stan and wrapped her little arm around his head, to hold ontohis fez for balance. "I'm sorry we disobeyed you, Grunkle Stan."

"It's alright, kid. I'm just glad you're safe." Stan looked down at Dipper, who was standing next to Ford, still miffed about being punished. "Look, Dipper, I know why you did what you did. And, honestly, I probably woulda done the same thing when I was your age. I know I lied to you back then, and I don't regret doing that; I did what I had to to get Ford back. But I still went back on my word, so I'll tell ya what: no Ducktective for me either." Stan knelt down once again, trying not to wince as his knees protested. "Alright?" Stan offered his hand.

"Alright." Dipper said, taking Stan's hand and trying not to yelp as he felt himself being lifted off the ground. Stan's shoulders popped at the sudden weight, but eventually he had both Dipper and Mabel balancing on his shoulders.

Mabel cheered, "WOO, GRUNKLE-BACK RIDE!" and offered Dipper a high five. Dipper accepted her high five, with almost as much enthusiasm. Mabel looked down at Ford with her metallic grin, "Grunkle Ford, you can't tell us what happens on Ducktective this week, okay? No spoilers!"

"Alright," Ford chuckled. "No spoilers. Though, I'm afraid I won't be watching Ducktective this week."

"Aw, why not? You still think it's a dumb kid's show?" Mabel asked, her lower lip sticking out in a false pout.

"No, it's not that. The cryogenic chamber in the bunker hasn't had proper maintenance in thirty years, and I'm going to have to go check on it."

Dipper looked antsy as he asked, "Great Uncle Ford, can I come with you? It would be really cool to get a tour of the bunker."

"Absolutely not." Both Stan and Ford said in unison.

"Maybe one day, once I tone down the security, and make sure the shapeshifter is secure. But right now? No." Ford said, a little more gently this time. "Though, it would be a good idea to have someone accompany me." Mabel raised her hand eagerly.

"Not you!" Once again, Stan and Ford were in perfect sync.

"I was referring to Stanley, the only other capable adult in the room." Both of the twins whined with disappointment, and their Grunkle set them back down on the ground.

"Kids, we just talked about how dangerous that place can be. I know you wanna go out an' have fun but you're already grounded from the first time you two gremlins went down there." Stan paused. "And I'm also grounded, for lying." He added, looking out into the middle distance.

Dipper sighed. "Okay, I guess you're right. Is there anything we can do to help you out, Great Uncle Ford? After what happened with Wendy, I don't want the shapeshifter getting out either."

"Well… I suppose I'll need someone to hide the journals. Just in case." Ford said, scratching his chin.

"Great! We're on it, Grunkle Ford! We're hide and seek masters!" Mabel said, grabbing Dipper's hand and yanking it into the air.

"Once Mabel and I hid from our parents for a whole 6 hours in our toy box before they found us. We've got this down." Dipper said, taking the third journal out from his vest pocket, and gripping Mabel's hand as they ran upstairs to grab the other two.

"...Stan?" Ford asked, tentatively. "Please, I know we haven't gotten along very well lately, but if something happens to me down in that bunker…"

"Alright."

"If the shapeshifter tries to come back looking like me, the whole town would be in danger. Dipper and Mabel would be in danger." Ford continued.

"I said alright, Stanford." Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. Something in the back of his head noted that Ford only ever said please if he needed something from him, but he elected to ignore it. "That shapeshifter's dangerous. Dangerous enough to make you pull a gun on a twelve year old kid. I'll do whatever it takes to keep those kids safe from your experiments… And I read your journals. I know you experimented on this thing."

"...I was in a dark place…" Ford said bitterly, not wanting to give away too much on the subject. "It doesn't excuse what I did to the poor thing. But I have changed…" Ford cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, clasping his hands behind his back. "Regardless, the shapeshifter's most basic instincts compel it to destroy all other lifeforms. They can't get hurt and die, but they do need to eat, and they'd rather murder competing species for resources than work together."

"Sounds like my ex-girlfriend!" Stan joked, making light of the situation like he always did. He could write a whole book of inappropriate Grunkle jokes.

"...I'm not even going to ask." Ford sighed, bending over to retrieve his fallen pistol. "We'll need weapons. Stan, I'm… Giving you this pistol. I'll grab my electric gloves, and my rifle, and we'll head out. We'll think of a strategy on the way."

"Aw, this is all I get? Do I get to bring my own toys to the party?" Stan joked once more, although he did have a private arsenal behind the vending machine.

"Well, it depends. Do you own a weapon that can blast its way through five feet of solid tungsten?" Ford said, sardonically. "I'll be the one actually fighting the shapeshifter if necessary. I've dealt with dozens of them, I know how they think."

"Then what do you need me for? You seem to know what you're doing." Stan took the pistol to examine it and twirled it around his index finger.

"Because these things are dangerous, Stanley. Because this one in particular has had thirty years to learn forms that I might not even recognize. Because the shapeshifter could very well take my form and try to trick the kids. If you're there to stop him, to recognize which one is the fake, or at least to help me stop him, lives could be saved."

"...You really think this thing might kill you, don't you." Stan said. "And you need me as your backup plan, as usual. You ever think this thing might kill me? Might take my form?"

"Even if it did, which it can't since it hasn't seen you before, and there's enough of a difference in our appearances to where he can't figure out what you look like on his own-"

"Damn straight. I'm the handsome one." Stan interjected and smirked coyly.

"-I'd be able to tell the difference." Stanford finished, grinding his teeth. "Before we set out, we're going to come up with a signal, a sign to let the other one know who's real. It has to be very specific. Something only you would think of. So, no, you can't just flip me off."

Stan pondered for a while, doing his best to figure out what he would remember. Something humiliating. He then grinned, mischief in his eyes. "Stick your finger up your nose. No, one finger in each nostril!"

"I'm not doing that and you can't come up with my signal! Please, take this seriously." Ford said, exasperated and rubbing his temples.

"I'm as serious as the grave! You think some evil monster is gonna think to go digging for gold? No, it's gonna think of some smart nerdy thing, because you're a smart nerd." Ford balked at Stan's statement.

"...Stanley you might be onto something. If we're in a situation where we don't know who's who, one of us will ask for a sign. We'll probably be panicking and get sentimental about it. No one in their right mind would think to do something so… disgusting during a touching moment."

Stan looked just a little too proud of his idea. "Who's the smart twin now, Ford?" He elbowed his brother, chuckling a little.

Ford was a little taken aback. "...I never said you weren't." He said quietly.

Stan felt a little twinge of sadness in his heart, but let it roll off his back. "Being in space or whatever for thirty years made you lose your sense of humor, Ford. C'mon, we should tuck the kids in for the night and clean up dinner..." Stan made every effort to push Ford's comment aside.

"Alright, but we should move quickly. And you might want to call Soos and explain the situation before we leave." Ford said, moving towards the dinner table to clean the forgotten dishes. Though the leftover meat has long since gotten cold, and upon closer examination appeared to have bits of hair in it, Ford made sure to save every bite before setting to work washing the dishes.

Stan placed the gun in his coat's breast pocket and pulled himself up the stairs to check on the twins in the attic. He tapped on their door and poked his head in. "You two should be getting your butts in bed." He whispered, just in case they were already asleep. And a cursory glance around the attic told him they were. Dipper and Mabel were passed out together on Mabel's bed, surrounded by a heaping pile of hideously cute stuffed animals. Good, thought Stan. Those kids haven't been spending as much time together lately. Maybe all this shapeshifter talk got 'em hanging out together again. Stan turned out their light, and shut their door very carefully. He returned to his room to dress in something easier to move in, and to give Soos a quick call. Soos picked up while Stanley was trying to pull on his pants.

"Mr. Pines, what's up?" Soos sounded cheerful as always to be talking to Stan.

"Soos, I need your help. Ford and I have to...take care of some urgent business. I need you to come over and watch the kids tonight, they're already asleep, but I'm not sure how long we're going to be gone. Maybe until the morning." Stan spoke with a serious voice, but nothing malicious. "Don't let anyone but me and Ford into the shack until we get back. And no matter what happens, no matter what I say and no matter what Ford says, if one of us comes back alone? Don't let them in."

"You got it, Mr. Pines." Soos said, before hanging up the phone.

Stan finished getting dressed, wearing worn out jeans, a white t-shirt, and managing to find his old red jacket. He hadn't touched it in years, but he still knew every stain, every hole, like the back of his hand. He knew well enough that this jacket had pockets big enough for a gun of this size and caliber, and he sure as hell wasn't about to ask Ford for the holster. Thirty years on the other side of the portal had turned the man possessive as hell, and Stan was lucky enough to be trusted with the pistol in the first place. So he swallowed any bad memories associated with the faded jacket and slid it on. It fit surprisingly well, considering the fact that the last time he wore it was thirty odd years ago, and he could always rip off the sleeves if things got too intense and he needed to use his fists. Grimacing, he pocketed the gun. He also grabbed a flashlight, and retrieved his trusty old brass knuckles, just in case. He descended the stairwell and returned to the kitchen to look for Ford. The sooner they got this done, the better.

"Are you ready?" Ford asked, rifle strapped to his back and electric gloves over his hands. He was a little concerned that Stanley still had the same jacket he'd brought with him to Gravity Falls thirty years ago, though he wasn't one to talk, considering that he'd kept his old trench coat.

"The kids are asleep, and Soos is on his way. I think we're good to go." Stan took his hands out of his jacket pockets and placed one on his hip. "Am I just following you? We could take the golf cart, Soos has fixed it up to be pretty speedy."

"We're walking. And considering the fact that you don't know where we're going, you're going to be following me. If we fail and the shapeshifter gets to the surface, I don't want it getting to the Shack any faster than it normally would." Ford said, turning to head out the door.

"Okay, but keep in mind I have a shop to run in the morning. I don't want to be up all night." Stan followed him out, and, thank goodness, just as they left, Soos pulled up in the little driveway. The kids will be fine, Stan had to repeat to himself. Soos stood up to me to protect these kids, they'll be fine, and-

"... Wait did you just call it the shack?" Stan asked, snapping out of his mantra. A sly smile crept along Stanley's face. "You called your house 'the shack'!"

"No I didn't. You can't prove that I did. Because I didn't." Ford jumped on the defensive, but Stanley was having none of it.

"You called it the shack! Ha, ha! I can't believe it!" Stanley laughed, slapping his knee.

"...Okay, fine. So what if I did. It's not like the Mystery Shack thing you've got going is going to disappear at the end of summer, it just can't be in my house. Right now we need to focus on finding the bunker, and doing it quietly." Stanford had a tight grip on his rifle, ready to fire at any monsters that might come their way; trying to find his way in the woods was no easy task, but finding his way in the woods at night was on a whole other level.

Stanley pulled out his flashlight and flicked the switch on, illuminating a very small portion of the sea of forest in front of them. "How far out is his thing, again?" He seemed a bit uneasy. He used to have the spirit of an adventurer, but old age and his brother's journal entries had diminished that part on himself.

"Not too far, just let me- Stanley, could you turn that off for a second?" Ford continued only when Stan complied. "Okay, so let's see if I remember this… It's August...which means Virgo will be to the west... ish... meaning Draco should look like… and Ursa Minor is there, which means due North is in that direction. Okay, Stanley, you can turn the flashlight back on now."

"Are you seriously using the fucking stars to navigate us? Just when I think you can't get any nerdier."

"...Earth's life sustaining properties occur in such a small range of possible timelines… Constellations are usually the same or at least similar from dimension to dimension." Ford said after a moment. He went back to marking north in the dirt, and getting his bearings.

Stanley tried his hardest not to look impressed. But damn, that was some pretty cool science. "Well, alright then, we're headed north? Or do I need to turn my flashlight off again?"

"...Stanley if I know which way north is I can figure out which way the other directions are. We're headed east, actually, which is this way." Ford pointed to his right.

"I haven't been on any wilderness treks lately, Ford, go easy on me." Stanley tried not to show his embarrassment. He had learned the cardinal directions at one point in his life, but he never used them, not since he gave up on a life at sea.

"Sorry. I'm… distracted, trying to think of what I'm going to say if the shapeshifter's not frozen. He's basically my son. And I wasn't the best father."

"I thought you said this thing was a destructive monster, now you're saying it was your baby? ...That's pretty fucked up, Sixer." Stanley scoffed. Ford wasn't much of a brother, of course he wasn't going to be a good father.

"I watched it hatch, Stanley. I nursed the damn thing. And sure, his entire species might have a killer instinct ingrained in their psyche, but I still exposed him to…" Ford paused, remembering Bill, remembering what he'd done. No, he couldn't tell Stanley, it'd make their relationship even worse if Stan knew he'd made a deal with the devil. "Something else I'd gotten involved with. He'd seemed okay before then, but after that… He started trying to kill me any way it knew how. I had a freaking identity crisis trying to care for this thing. At one point I was convinced that I was the shapeshifter, and he was Stanford Pines. Do you know how hard it is to make someone with an identical twin have an identity crisis like that?"

Stanley stopped in his tracks to listen to his brother. He had flipped through the journals he managed to get ahold of, but he never read anything explaining something this terrible. Nothing personal. "Ford, I had no idea. That's...that's really messed up. I'm sorry that happened. If I have to, I'll kill the fucker, but I'll go easy on it because it's your... your baby."

"You can't kill it, it regenerates. And even if you could, it's my fault he wound up like this. His best shot is for me to cryogenically freeze it and hope I can figure out a way to reconcile with him."

"It can't be all your fault, you said that being evil or whatever is in its genes right? You can't fix that, Ford, that's just nature."

"It kills other species to compete for resources, Stanley. That doesn't make it evil. People will do the same thing if they're desperate enough. I knew that from the moment it could speak." Ford said, pausing to examine a pine tree. This one was real, with an advertisement for The Mystery Shack nailed to the trunk, but he was looking for a marker, one that had likely been moved in the last thirty years. "How long have we been walking, about ten minutes?"

"I'd say that's about right. You better not be gettin' us lost, Ford." Stan said, narrowing his eyes and feeling the gun underneath the fabric of the jacket, just in case something supernatural decided to make a move towards two wayward travelers.

"Relax. We're close." Ford said, looking back up at the sky to get his bearings again. "Shine your light over there for a second." He pointed off to the left. "I think it should be over here. I just need to get a good look."

"Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on." Stan said with a wave of his hand, and shone the flashlight over the woods. Ford climbed over a fallen log, grunting as he almost lost his footing, and knelt down next to what looked like a pine tree. Stanley held the flashlight between his teeth as he followed suit, wincing as he felt dozens of tiny splinters pierce his skin. The night air was suddenly filled with a metallic clanging sound, and it took Stanley a second to realize that it was coming from Ford's direction.

"Alright, we're here." Ford stood up from where he had been crouched

"This is it? How are we supposed to get in?" Stanley looked over the seemingly normal tree. If this really was a secret entrance to a fallout shelter, it really does a good job of blending in.

"There's a lever about a hundred feet up, I'll have to climb it. You can just wait here." Ford said, hands behind his back.

"Why don't you throw something up there instead? I don't know if you're going to make it all the way up there, old man."

"I'm more agile than you think. Besides, from this far down there wouldn't be enough force behind a throw to jostle it in the right direction." Ford said, unbuckling his belt and wrapping it around the trunk of the tree. "And a round from either of our guns would just destroy it."

"Fine, enough science words, I'll just wait down here." Stan crossed his arms and leaned against another nearby tree, still on the watch for anything lurking in the woods that might cause them trouble.

"And shine your light this way so I can see what I'm doing, if you don't mind." Ford said as he began his climb. The flashlight wasn't quite strong enough to illuminate the highest branches very well, but he really just needed to see where to put his feet. He already knew which branch would be the lever they needed and- "There!" Ford exclaimed as he grabbed the branch in question, pulling the lever and feeling the tree sink into the ground. "Alright, Stan! I'm coming down now. If I fall, make sure to put 'took out President Quagmire in Dimension 854' on my tombstone! They'll know what it means."

Stan jumped back when the tree started moving and tried hard not to look impressed. "I don't think I want to know what that means." Watching his brother scale a tree still made Stanley worry, and once Stanford made it down, he let out a breath of relief.

"Alright, Stan, here's the plan. There's three levels of security before we get to where the shapeshifter is presumably located. I'll need you to guard the entrance at the bottom of this staircase. Don't let anyone or anything out of there, not even an insect, unless it's me and unless I give you the… ahem… signal we discussed earlier. I know how to get past all the security, so I'll be the one actually going in. Got it?" Ford asked, readying his rifle.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it, go have fun in your death trap. I'll stand out here. But if you're in there too long, I'm gonna come and look for you." Stanley huffed, a little disappointed at his simple watchdog role.

Ford cocked the rifle and took a deep breath. "...Thank you, Stanley." Ford knew that one or both of them could die tonight if he wasn't careful. He knew exactly how important Stanley's job was, even if Stanley himself hadn't grasped the concept quite yet. Ford's boots thunked against the wood as he descended the spiral staircase, followed by the softer taps of Stan's loafers.

Stan almost didn't recognize the words 'thank you' coming from his brother. Maybe I'm dealin' with the shapeshifter already. Stanley paused for a good second before he responded with a quiet "You're welcome."

Ford paused at the bottom of the staircase, just outside the entrance. "Remember, not a single living creature gets past this door. And please, don't leave it unguarded, under any circumstances. If I'm not out in a half hour, there's a switch on the wall behind you that hides the bunker. Flip it and go get help." He knew his words were falling on deaf ears; Stanley had potentially caused the apocalypse on the off chance that he'd save Ford from a distant reality, he likely wasn't going to think things through if he thought Ford had fallen prey to the shapeshifter. But if he didn't at least try to warn him, then what good would anyone see in their attempt should they fail tonight? Seeing his brother walking around in the same jacket he wore thirty years ago was reminding Ford exactly what could happen when Stanley Pines is put near a dangerous supernatural thing and not told what it does. He turned to go into the bunker, steeling his nerves to fight the shapeshifter if necessary.

Stanley heard his brother clearly, but he wasn't exactly listening. He was transfixed on some small symbols the flashlight had caught, carved into the side of the 'tree,' near the ground. He recognized these symbols, he had made the same ones in a time of need. Good water...unsafe camp? Beware? The hobo scrawlings warned. Stanley ran his fingers over the writings, they felt as if they hadn't been there very long. "Hey, Ford? There's someone in there." Stanley called out, quickly grabbing the gun from his pocket and followed Ford into the bunker. Whoever was in there could be dangerous, especially if they've dealt with the monster. Dangerous, or dead.

Ford, meanwhile, was busy opening the hatch that led to the first security room. He perked up when he heard his brother's footsteps getting closer. "Yes, Stanley, that's why we're here, now stay out there and whatever you do, don't follow me past this room, it's the one that crushes you if you don't know the right code." Ford said. Whatever Stanley was on about, it would have to wait, he needed to be fast if he wanted to input the code before the heavy metal blocks crushed him. He barely registered the presence of a few candy wrappers from companies that hadn't existed in 1982, but chalked them up to Mable's handiwork. She and the other kids were down here a few weeks ago, after all.

"No, I mean a person, dammit. Listen to me for once!" Stanley said, climbing through the hatch just as Ford was pressing the button. "Woah, what the fresh hell?" Stanley flinched away from the moving panels as one came down dangerously close to where his head had been.

"I told you, this room crushes people!" Ford yelled, grabbing Stanley's wrist and pulling him towards the other end of the room, where the exit vault was. "Just, stay there and get ready to move, there's no time to get you back on the other side." Ford had to move quickly, he only had a minute and a half before the right symbols disappeared. One… two… three...four! The hiss of the vault unlocking itself automatically was music to Ford's ears as he ran for the exit, practically tackling Stanley on the way out.

"Ford what the fuck is wrong with you! Why in god's name do you need a room that crushes people?!" Stan was miffed enough that Ford wouldn't even listen to him, he had to make it worse by being a dangerous know it all, yet again!

"There is an incredibly dangerous, mostly immortal shapeshifter on the other side of that blast shield, Stanley, of course I'm going to have a room that crushes people! Would you do it any different?" Ford adjusted his glasses, and moved towards the ancient control panels, checking the status on all the cryogenic chambers. Only one was on, and it definitely had something in it.

"Holy shit, that looks just like Dipper." Stanley was momentarily caught off guard. He'd expected the shapeshifter to be realistic and dangerous, but taking the form of his twelve year old nephew? No wonder the kid doesn't sleep well at night. He keeps poking his head in where it doesn't belong.

"Holy shit indeed. He was probably counting on someone finding him and thinking that there was a child trapped in there." Ford pressed a few buttons, checking the numbers appearing on a monitor against the ones he was working out in his head. "It looks like the gravity anomalies didn't do any damage. I'll still have to go in and tune up the chamber, but-"

"Stanford, someone is living in your bunker." Stanley interrupted. "We need to either leave, or take care of it. This guy could be dangerous." Stanley had dealt with plenty of territorial people during his years as a drifter. Homeless people will fight like maniacs to keep anything that they can call their own. Lord knows he's had to, on more than one occasion. "Remember what you were sayin' about the shapeshifter killing other species for resources? An' how people do the same thing when they're desperate enough?"

"...What makes you so sure?" Ford asked, tensing up. Now that the main threat was out of the way, he'd had time to really go over what Stanley was saying. And those candy wrappers suddenly looked a lot more ominous.

"Yeesh, Ford, you're telling me you know all those creepy ciphers and codes, but you've never seen a goddamn hobo sign?" Stanley said, double checking his gun to make sure it was still loaded. "So whaddya wanna do? Should we rough this guy up a bit for squatting where there's paranormal bullshit? Or do we leave as quickly as possible and hope this guy doesn't let that thing out?"

All of the sudden, a banging sound came from the metal closet at the far end of the room, and Stan and Ford both immediately pointed their guns in the direction of the noise.

"Whoever, or whatever you are, freeze right now!" Ford said, his voice booming against the rock walls of the bunker. Whatever it was, it most certainly did not freeze. The next thing Ford knew, a flash of brown and white was flying towards him. He tried firing a round from his rifle, but the blur was too quick, and spindly arms had wrapped around the barrel of the gun, trying to wrestle it away from him.

"You no good shapshiftin' varmit! I'll hornswaggle that gun o' yers outta yer hands real quick-like 'fore I let ya aim it in my direction! You've got another thing comin' if you think the ends times can stop-"

"Old Man McGucket?" Stanley pointed his pistol upwards and signaled Stanford to do the same. What in the world was that kook doing down here? How the hell did he figure out all of the crazy security codes? "It's Stan Pines, McGucket, I'm not gonna hurt you!" He said, grabbing the smaller man by the overalls and prying him off of Stanford. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor old man; Stanley could very well have wound up just like Fiddleford if he hadn't come to Gravity Falls to help Ford all those years ago. That, and, he could never allow Fiddleford McGucket to come to harm. Not after what he'd done for Stanley.

"...Wait... Fiddleford? Is that you?" Ford asked in a hushed voice, still on the ground, almost afraid to get up. Of course he'd come here once he found out the portal was being reopened, Stanford thought to himself, Fiddleford helped build this place, he's the only other person who would have known about it.

"You can't fool me, you slimy skinned devil! I know you're not really Stanford!" McGucket was still in a frenzy, kicking and struggling against Stanley's grip. "I've known Stanford Pines for thirty odd years, an' he don't have six fingers!"

"Alright, settle down you old fart. He's not the shapeshifter." Stanley said, lifting McGucket higher off the ground. "You've been talking to me the past thirty years. I'm Stanley. I was posing as my brother, Stanford. The real Stanford Pines has six fingers, is a giant nerd, and stuck your head through an apocalypse portal that you erased from your memory somehow. We had this conversation back in '82, remember?" Stanley had known for decades that Fiddleford had access to some sort of mind altering technology, but he'd assumed that thirty years of madness had all been an act.

"Wait, Stanley, you know him?" Ford asked, incredulous. "Surely he would have left town after… after erasing me from his memory."

"Hold on, fellas, I think I'm startin to remember what this gentleman is talkin' about," Fiddleford said, gesturing to Stanley. He'd stopped struggling, and simply hung from the taller man's arm like he did this every day. He aimlessly tugged at the bandage on his beard. "I've been rememberin' lotsa things lately."

Stanley set the little man back down on his feet, and gave him a pat on the back. "Alright, McGucket, what do you remember? Why are you down here?"

"Well, Stanford-"

"Stanley." Ford corrected.

"Sorry. Stanley, them kids o' yers came up to my spot at the dump-"

"You've been living in the dump?!" Ford asked, heartbroken. Fiddleford had been his best friend for years, he was a brilliant engineer, and he was always so kind. To think that he'd ever been homeless in his time of need.

"Sweet Moses, Ford. Let 'im finish!"

"Dipper and Mabel came to the dump with a spooky lookin' book. Somehow they got ahold of one of my computermajigs, an' they thought that I was the feller what done wrote them journals."

"One of your laptops used to be down here, the kids probably got their hands on it when they came down looking for me." Ford added, hoping to add a little clarity to the situation.

"That's what them kids were sayin'. I'd done told 'em that I wasn't the guy they were lookin' fer, and somehow the Society of the Blind Eye came up. I'd been spooked, I tell ya, and the kids wanted to get to the bottom of it. We wound up in some real danger; those kids, an' Soos n' Wendy, they almost got roughed up by that darn cult. I pro'lly shouldn't've let 'em tag along, but I wanted to know what'd happened to me, even if it was bad. I've been gettin' memories back left n' right ever since, thanks to those kids. But somthin' wasn't piecing together right. I was sure, er, Stanley, was it? Was the one who'd up and reactivated the portal. But somethin' was tuggin' at the back of my mind, saying 'the feller who runs the Mystery Shack ain't the same feller what wrote them journals.' But I was so sure that Stanford Pines was the author. I suppose I wasn't entirely wrong. But what in tarnation possessed you to switch places like that?" Fiddleford was pacing back and forth, tugging at the brim of his worn out hat. "Anywho, the end times' a comin', so I've been holed up in here ever since the portal was done reactivated."

Stanford couldn't believe this tale, that his once brilliant partner had driven himself to madness, or that Stanford himself had driven Fiddleford there. It hurt Stanford just to look at McGucket. Of course, he'd known that Fiddleford had invented a machine to erase bad memories. He'd been there when Fiddleford erased his memory of 'Stanford Pines,' for good. But total amnesia? That he hadn't been prepared for.

"Well, seems like you've already got the gist of it. But, uh, I'll fill ya in on the rest, okay?" Stanley said, taking in a deep breath. "... 'Bout thirty years ago I get this postcard from Ford. Wanting me to come help him out with something. So of course, I go. Why the hell wouldn't I? Turns out, he needs me to hide one of his spooky journals so his dumb machine doesn't tear a hole in reality. One thing led to another, and Stanford fell through the portal… It was my fault I'd lost him, and I swore I'd do whatever it took to get him back. I'd been working on that machine for a few weeks, 'til I ran out of food and had to start up the Mystery Shack. Under Stanford's name, of course. People'd wonder what happened to Ford, it was easier to just let the old me die." Ford winced at his brother's wording, but Stanley continued. "Then one day, while business is slow, this old disheveled guy comes walking through the door. Said I was selling the devil's wares and that he couldn't allow me to corrupt the minds of the townsfolk. Real nerd, if you ask me. Called himself Fiddleford McGucket. Said he'd known me, er, Stanford, for years but he'd never thought I'd stoop this low. I tried to calm you down, but the second I tried to touch you, you jumped five feet in the air and aimed a gun with a fucking light bulb on the front at me. I almost laughed, but then you said that whatever I was, I wasn't the Stanford Pines you'd worked with the past year. And of course, I got my fucking hopes up. I asked if you knew about the portal, how to work it. I told you what'd happened to the real Stanford, and explained that I was his twin brother, Stanley. I asked if you'd help me rebuild Stanford's dumb machine. And you said no." Stanley paused, trying to figure out how to tell the next part of his story. "You said the other side of that machine was something like hell itself, and that you couldn't live with yourself knowing it would be reopened someday. You told me you made some kinda secret society for the express purpose of helping people get rid of their bad memories of the supernatural. You also said that no matter what happens, to not tell anyone that I knew about paranormal bullshit, and to not go around acting like I knew you. The next day I'm reading in the paper about how Fiddleford McGucket went totally nuts. Is that ringin' any bells for you?"

"I suppose, though right now it's your word against mine." Fiddleford said. "Yer brother bein' trapped in some kinda hellish nightmare realm for thirty years sounds like a pretty solid reason to cause the apocalypse. It's stupid and I can't believe you actually went through with it, but it's a solid enough reason. Listen, fellers, I'm sure Stanford's already told ya, but the end times are a comin'. There's a bed closer to the surface, and enough beans and rice to last us an' the kids a few decades. We might as well start hunkerin' down." Fiddleford said.

"McGucket, there is no 'end times' coming. It's been a good two weeks since that portal opened up, and we're all fine. Ford even set up a sci-fi nerd trap to keep whatever it is that's been giving him trouble away from the shack. You don't have to lock yourself down here with that creepy shapeshifter. Everything up there is just as normal as it always is." Stanley used the term 'normal' looseley.

"Stanley's right, Fiddleford. Right now, the safest place would be back at the house. Where there's real food and more than one bed." Ford said, his voice cracking a little. Up until now he'd stayed quiet, unable to think of anything he could say, anything he could do to help his friend. "...Fiddleford, what happened to you was my fault, and I'm so sorry. I-If it's safety you're worried about, you're more than welcome to come up to the Shack anytime you want. And if things get really bad, the bunker will still be here." Ford tentatively reached out to his friend, grasping his shoulder only when he was certain that Fiddleford was unafraid. "The only reason there was even a portal to be activated in the first place was because I didn't listen to you when I had the chance. Please, let me make it up to you, somehow." A lightbulb went off in Ford's head. "I can help you get back your memories! I have a machine for that express purpose! It's… broken now, but I can fix it in a few days! Please, Fiddleford…" Stanford took Fiddleford's casted hand in his own, his eyes pleaded for Fiddleford to remember what they once had. Stanford laced his six fingers with Fiddleford's boney ones and gave a gentle squeeze.

"...Well… I do believe I'm startin' to recall ya, Stanford. Well, the Stanford that is actually you, that is. But I couldn't possibly… I don't have nothin' to offer you in return-"

"You don't have to worry about giving us anything, alright? The kids love you, and we have plenty of space. Maybe take a bath or something while you're here." Stanley suggested, trying to have some tact.

"But I- Woah!" Fiddleford tried to protest, but was cut short by Stanley lifting him up by his overalls again.

"Yeesh, you southern types are stubborn about manners. Look, take it from me, worrying about paying people back is only gonna bite you in the butt. Living in the same room as that creepy shapeshifter's got you paranoid enough. At least stay at the Shack until we can get this whole thing sorted out, alright?" Stanley paused, tucking the small man under his arm. "You're really light, like lifting a baby goat, you know that?"

"Stanley! You can't just kidnap him!" Stanford said, scrambling to his feet.

"Too late! I've made my decision. It's late, and I don't feel like staying out any longer than I have to." Stanley said, walking towards the exit. "Now, how's about you let us out of this dump so I can get some shut eye?" Ford simply stared at the sight before him, dumbfounded.

Stanley practically threw McGucket over his shoulder, alarmed at how much he was lighter than Dipper and Mabel, he didn't even pop anything. "Well, Ford? Lead the way! McGucket, is there anything you need to take with ya?"

"Well, my raccoon wife done skedaddled a few days ago, but I should probably grab the laptop. It should be over in that box yonder." Fiddleford said, adjusting the brim of his hat so it wouldn't fall.

"I'll grab it and we can head home," Ford said, rummaging through the crate Fiddleford had mentioned and grabbing the laptop. "Wait...Did you say raccoon wife?"

"Diane, right? Or was it Racoonifer? I'm tellin ya, Ford, She's quite the looker" Stanley teased, not realizing just how messed up crazy old man McGucket was compared to his former brilliant self. "At least a raccoon is an actual living thing. I got married to a mechanical prospecter (that may or may not be secretly alive) in Las Vegas."

"...Wait, did you do that under my name, or yours?" Ford asked, pulling a lever to raise the panels in the security room so they could leave.

"Don't worry, the marriage got annulled. I think." Stanley said, stepping through the vault, carefully eyeing the strange symbols on the walls.

McGucket held onto Stanley like a small child getting a piggyback ride. He trembled a little as they approached the real world; the forest at night was one hell of a place to be. "An' yer sure this is alright? I don' mind stayin' in the bunker none."

"Fiddleford, frankly, I'm more concerned about the raccoon wife." Stanford said, still cross.

"Oh, hush now. We only got hitched fer the tax benefits. Her leavin' don' bother me none. Taxes might not even matter soon anyways."

"...I shouldn't have that marriage certificate annulled. Tax benefits why didn't I think of that?" Stan said, crunching numbers in his head to work out exactly how much money he could have saved, if he'd actually ever paid his taxes. Stanley's calculations took up a good amount of their walk back to the Mystery Shack. Thankfully, they had only been out a half hour or so, leaving Stanley with plenty of time to get his beauty rest.

"Soos!" Stanley said, banging on the front door. "It's us, can you let us in?"

"I don't know, dude, how many of there are you?" Soos' voice carried through the heavy oak, and Stanley caught a glimpse of his employee's hat from the other side of the window.

"It's me, Stanley, and Fiddleford McGucket. We found him in the bunker, he's my old college friend. The shapeshifter is secure, Soos." Stanford said. He stepped back as he heard the sound of the deadbolt unlocking. He didn't have time to brace himself as a broom smacked himself in the face.

"Kill it! Kill it with fire!" Soos yelled, having done the impossible and caught Ford by surprise. "Mr. Pines said not to let anyone in unless it was just him and the other Mr. Pines!" Ford's fight or flight response kicked in then, and he grabbed the broom, using his knee to snap it in two. He twirled one piece of the broken broom around in his left hand, and tried using the splintered end as a chiv.

"Soos! Calm down, it's us, no one is the shapeshifter!" Stanley cried, trying his best to wedge himself between the two. "Ford, relax he's just doing what I told him!" Stanley regretted not wording that better, because that sentence earned him a panic-induced punch in the face from Ford, hard enough to send him flat on his butt. Meanwhile, Fiddleford had scuttled up to the awning above the porch, a safe distance from all the fighting.

Soos scrambled for some other sort of weapon. He settled for he screwdriver in his pocket, and his fists. He pointed the flathead screwdriver towards Stanley's neck, whom he had pinned on the ground and whose ribs were nearly buckling under the pressure of the handyman's knee, and used his other arm to lock a struggling Ford in a chokehold. "You have to prove it! Mr. Pines, what did the birthday card I gave you last year say?!"

"Soos, drop Ford. The more panicked he gets the more of an itchy trigger finger he'll have when he gets free!" Stanley yelled, eyeing the rifle strapped to Ford's back. With Ford, it was never a matter of 'if' in a fight. Not anymore.

"That doesn't sound like something Hallmark would write, dude." Soos said, pressing the screwdriver harder into his neck. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he struggled against Ford's superior fighting skills, and he winced when Ford tried to elbow him in the stomach hard enough to get away.

"It was a puppy dog saying 'Happy Bark Day!' And you wrote, 'Happy old guy birthday, Love, Soos!' Now let him go!" Soos' response was immediate, and Ford practically vaulted away from the man, gasping for breath, immediately reaching for his gun. He'd almost taken aim at Soos, before he managed to calm himself down enough to simply drop the weapon and hurry inside, making sure to grab Fiddleford from the awning before he went in, earning a yelp from the old hillbilly. The screwdriver clattered against the wooden porch, and only the sound of the two men panting could be heard outside.

"Sorry, Mr. Pines," Soos said once he caught his breath.

"Don't be, you were doing your job. But do me a favor? In the future, if you see something that looks like Ford? Play it safe and don't try to fight it. He's not quite as good as me, but something in his brain won't let him remember when to pull his punches. And that's a dangerous kind of guy to pick a fight with." Stanley said, pushing himself up. Soos still seemed a little disappointed, afraid he had done the wrong thing. Stanley gave Soos an affectionate pat on the shoulder and said simply, "You did good, Soos. Thanks. I can always count on you to protect those kids."

Soos smiled with his goofy buck teeth and picked up the mess he made, collecting the shards of broom handle, despite the splinters. "Do you need me to stay, Mr. Pines? I can get this all cleaned up in no time."

"Nah, it's getting late, you goofball." Stan paused. "I'm already adding the past half hour to your pay, don't push it." He said. Ten years of not letting Soos get too close had taken their toll, but after everything that had happened this summer, Stanley was convinced that Soos knew that he meant no harm whenever Stan tried to push him away.

Soos gave Stan a salute, nearly missing his eye, and walked back inside to fetch the keys to his old pickup truck, "Whatever you say, !" Soos knew well that Stan wasn't a man who liked to get emotional, but Soos did his best to be there for Stan in any way he could, to show his appreciation for the old man doing the same since he was a kid. Soos checked up on the kids one last time before returning outside, waving to Stan, and driving away. Stanley stayed out on the front porch until he could no longer see the taillights of Soos' beat up truck. Giving a faint smile, he turned around and finally went back inside, being sure to lock the door behind him. On his way back to his room, however, he did take note of one thing. It seemed like Soos did a little cleaning while he was there, the living room looks spotless, and the kitchen too. Eh, maybe I'll give him the full hour extra this week. With all he's done around here, the kid deserves it.

Stanley yawned, his old age had really taken the party animal out of him, and dragged himself to the linen closet to grab a blanket for McGucket, who was already curled up on the couch in the living room. Knowing Ford, the only reason his old pal wasn't sleeping in a proper bed was because Stanford was too freaked out to argue. Once their houseguest had been taken care of, Stanley crept towards his bedroom to disrobe and prepare for bed. On the way there, Stanley stopped by the 'spare' room that Stanford had taken as his bedroom, just to make sure he wasn't still freaking out about the encounter with Soos. Bingo, Stanley thought to himself as he saw his brother's slumped form on the couch. The dark room was silent, save for Ford's labored breathing.

"...Stanford?" Stanley asked quietly, not wanting to startle his estranged brother.

"Is Soos alright?" Ford asked curtly. He had his own method of dealing with things, and adding new people to talk to wasn't a part of how he coped, but he had to make sure.

"He's fine. You didn't hurt him. Bruised him, maybe, but nothing permanent."

"Are you alright, Stanley?" Ford asked, trying to remind himself that he was in Gravity Falls, not some far off and dangerous new world.

"M'fine, your punches didn't hurt as much this time around. You're really off your game." Stanley joked, slowly taking a step closer. He could barely make out Ford's shaking hands clutching his knees.

"Please, just leave me alone, Stan." Stan stiffened, it broke his heart to see his brother like this, but it had been so long. He let out a noncommittal grunt, and slowly turned to leave.

"...Alright. Good night, Sixer." Stan left his brother to brood, knowing a little bit of rest would bring him back to... Not exactly normal, but better. He didn't quite catch the quiet 'please don't call me that' that escaped Ford's lips.