Chapter Text
The Stanmobile took off, less than six days before Mabel’s and Dipper’s birthday. It coughed to life painfully, which was no surprise: it'd been through more damage in one summer than it had been in the past thirty years.
Stanford had once, on their sixteenth birthday, drawn their handprints on the inside of the door, passenger's side. The car had been Stanley’s, for as much as Stanley had been able to claim anything as his own, but they’d celebrated together. He wondered now, idly, if it was still there, whether Stanley had preserved it like he’d seemed to have preserved everything, as if keeping things the way they were thirty years ago would have somehow magically fixed everything. He couldn’t check, of course. He wasn’t sitting in the front.
Not that it was really that important.
Stanley drove, of course, being the only one with a valid driver's licence, fake or not, and any experience in driving. He was curiously silent, but that might have had something to do with the third person in the car. Stanford watched his brother's profile for a while as they sped past a blur of trees, and his heart ached, because they were so old – and yet, he didn't feel old. Maybe it was how people aged, only on the outside, or maybe the Other Side had taken away any sense of time from him, had left him in an aging body but with the memories still fresh in his mind.
He leaned against the bag taking up half of the backseat, and very gingerly let himself relax just a fraction, just a tad, as the first crisp autumn wind pushed his hair back. He must have been mad, but he truly felt that he was done fighting. He was back home. He'd won. He'd beaten back the apocalypse.
He hoped that if he kept repeating all of this for long enough, he might even believe it.
On the passenger’s seat, Bill Cipher stretched his week old limbs, narrowly avoided punching Stanley in the face, and faked a yawn. Then he attempted to fling himself out of the car.
"Child-lock, Bill," Stanford said, without bothering to open his eyes.
"And open your seat-belt first," Stanley grunted, rolling his eyes without actually taking them off the road. "Amateur."
Bill flashed a grin that looked like only an approximate of a real human expression, blinking out of order, first one eye, and then the other. “Wow, I sure am glad I didn’t do that and deprive myself of the horrors I’ll inflict upon you two!”
Stanford was fairly sure that one day, Bill would probably be true to his word, and what they were doing was the equivalent of trying to hold a hurricane in a paper cup. But he was an old man, and he was a tired man, and the world wasn’t ending. He also knew that they’d done the right thing. At least this way, Bill was contained. That was all he could focus on for now. He yawned, and tucked himself down against the bag that smelled like Stanley’s cologne and scratched his cheek and made him feel like he was twelve again, so that he could keep his eyes on Bill's profile.
He drifted into his first peaceful sleep in roughly thirty years.
*
“It’s better this way,” Mabel had said. She’d looked like the most ancient almost thirteen-year-old girl then, holding Dipper’s hand like she was never letting go, and Stanford had felt scared, gazing into her eyes, until she’d smiled and revealed her braces.
“I mean,” Mabel said, “he wanted a physical form, right?”
Her eyes had glowed and she’d taken the power Bill had so ironically poured into her, and she’d risen like a wrathful goddess, like a star at the end of the world, and –
“I wish everything to be okay again,” Mabel had said, as if she was a genie wishing from herself. Stanford had wanted to scream, because they were meddling with powerful, painful, universe-changing things and there was a little girl playing make-believe and he, he wanted everything to be okay again, more than ever, he’d wanted it since he was seventeen-years-old –
And everything was okay again.
There was the town of Gravity Falls. There were the town’s folk, miraculously alive and unharmed. There was his brother, clutching the children like he was somehow hoping to assimilate their bodies together so he could always protect them. There was the house, wrecked and burnt and beaten but standing, very much like Stanford.
There was Bill Cipher on the ground, reduced into a human body through Mabel’s complete disregard for any sort of natural or magical laws that had allowed her to do practically whatever she’d wanted.
Stanford stared at the pathetic limp figure while the sky above him turned back to blue, and he thought about every single scenario he’d imagined during the last thirty-odd years for defeating Bill. Truth to be told, he’d always had a lot more active role in most of them. In about half of them he’d been able to spit into Bill’s solitary gigantic eye, but he probably had two of them now. (He couldn’t make out Bill’s face yet, due to the hair.) It was funny – he’d always thought he’d been so painstakingly realistic, so very strict in his imagination, and yet, this felt so real it felt almost boring.
Stanford steadied himself, and then walked up to the figure that had not yet stirred, leaning down and said, quite clearly, as if summoning still worked.
“Bill Cipher.”
“Uhh,” Stanley said behind him. “I don’t think he can hear you, Ford. I think he’s kind of – you know, unconscious.”
“I’m trying to wake him up,” Stanford muttered. Behind his back, he could hear Stanley pulling a face.
“Why?”
“Because-“ Stanford started, quite heatedly, and stopped. Dipper and Mabel had trailed after Stanley, and they were staring at him, and Stanford didn’t know how to explain to Dipper that he wanted Bill awake while he ground his face into fine paste.
“Because we need to figure out what to do with him,” he said, catching himself. “This was a very fine idea, Mabel – a very fine idea, indeed, but what on Earth are we supposed to – well, do with him now?” He gestured at the body on the ground. “We can’t very well unleash him to this world. Even without any of his power he’s still highly dangerous.”
Mabel shrugged. “Hey, I figured we’d think of something.” Her eyes lit up abruptly. “Oh! Demon harness!”
“I’m not carrying Bill Cipher around like Waddles, sweetie,” Stanley said hastily.
“We could make him into one of your exhibits, Grunkle Stan!” Dipper exclaimed abruptly, joining in on the impromptu brainstorming session.
“Hah, yeah, about that –“
“Let’s make Soos carry him around!”
“Dude, not cool!” Soos called out from somewhere behind the rubble.
Stanford felt the conversation was rapidly spiraling out of his control.
It was at this moment that the horrible demon that had nearly caused their world to be destroyed decided to stir, and he leapt for the chance to push things back on track. While his family flinched back, he moved forward, crouching down and grabbing Bill by his hair, dragging his head upright just to come face to face with two utterly unconvincing human eyes.
“Hello, Bill,” Stanford said, grimly. “Guess what? You lost.”
*
Stanford jerked awake from a blessedly dreamless sleep when Stanley parked the car. Somehow it had gotten dark between the time he’d been last awake and the time he woke up, and he could blearily make out lights outside. He wondered why he was having so much trouble focusing, until he realized he was missing his glasses.
“Looking for these?” Bill leered at him from the front seat. Stanford narrowed his eyes until he could make out Bill, who’d somehow managed to put Stanford’s glasses on upside down, but even that sight managed to jolt Stanford into full alertness, and he scrambled upright.
“Give those back to me!”
“Oh no, did I take away your precious seeing device?” Bill laughed. “That you need because your body’s defective? Mine’s so good it’s actively rejecting this thing!” He paused and looked mildly nauseated. “Seriously, my head feels weird.”
“All right, that’s enough,” Stanley said gruffly. “I told ya, only until he wakes up. Give ‘em back.”
Stanford was appalled when he realized that Stanley was talking to Bill like he talked to the kids. It was even more appalling when Bill tossed the glasses back at Stanford, and batted his eyelashes at Stanley. Out of order, again, but still.
“So, gonna release me from the child-lock now, Stanford’s brother?”
“Just call me Stanley,” Stanley said, a little irritably. “Or – Ley, or something, sheesh. And yeah, just let me – “ The car made the familiar weird rattling sound as the doors unlocked, but Stanford had precious few nano-seconds to waste on nostalgia before what Stanley had done hit him like a ton of bricks, incidentally, just as Bill bolted out of the car.
“You – idiot!” he hissed, shaking himself free from the seatbelt and flinging himself out of the car after Bill – ignoring Stanley calling after him – and sure enough, Bill was making his way towards a diner with its brightly lit windows apparently calling him like a moth to the flame. There were people inside. Stanford wasted no time to do anything except let his reflexes take care of it, as he crossed the parking lot and slammed into Bill, tackling him against the window with an undignified squeaking sound from Bill’s side.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled as Bill struggled against the glass.
“I wasn’t doing anything!” Bill snapped back, albeit muffledly.
“You were running away-“
“Uh, actually, I thought we could grab a bite to eat,” Stanley said, his voice colourless as he appeared next to them. “Y’know. From a diner.”
Stanford lifted his head to meet about a dozen pair of eyes staring at them.
“How about you let go of him?” Stanley said almost gently, although he seemed to know better than to lay a hand on Stanford. “Before anyone calls the cops for assaulting – uh – “
It had seemed Mabel had either overthought or potentially just winged it when it came to certain things about Bill’s appearance, which meant that while Bill was generally a passable human, it was impossible to ascribe any certain gender on him for sure on the first glance. Or even the second, or third glance. It had seemed to work out just fine, considering Bill had absolutely no interest in the topic, but it had generated some buzz when they’d suddenly been in a hurry to put some clothes on him and realized that absolutely anything goes.
“For assaulting a weird guy in a Disco Girl t-shirt,” Stanley ended, lamely.
“Sheesh, Sixer! Paranoid much?” Bill jeered. Stanford stared into the faces of the innocent strangers he’d been trying to protect, people were looking at him like he was insane - he was trying to remember that everything was okay now, everything was okay again. Mabel had said so, and for that brief, brief moment, she’d been a god…
Stanford shoved Bill away, tearing his eyes away from the window, grunting. “Right. Dinner. Good, yes, let’s do that.”
Maybe Mabel’s magic had only lasted for as long as she’d been able to hold on to her powers. At any rate, it seemed like the world was rapidly getting back to business as usual.
*
Of course Stanford had wanted nothing more than to simply celebrate. Bill Cipher was temporarily tied to the totem pole outside, yelling obscenities and horrifying fortunes to anyone who came close, and they were alive. He’d only meant to take a peek at the computer, just a quick glance at the monitors that surveyed the area to make sure that everything really was okay again. But when he’d finally managed to tear himself from Dipper who seemed hell-bent on trying to hold his hand, and made his way downstairs with a cup of Mabel juice mixed with brandy (Stanley’s own concoction) he almost choked on the godawful drink when he saw the readings.
He started planning a getaway in the next hour. Which was, of course, when Stanley caught him trying to move tins of tuna into the car, and quite unfairly made a huge fuss about it.
“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” Stanley growled, gripping his wrist tightly. It had gotten dark, normal night-time dark, and the kids were sleeping, and Stanley was keeping his voice low the best as he could but it climbed up at the end of his sentence as if exploding out of him.
“What Bill did wasn’t neat,” Stanford replied, feeling his voice brimming with tension, feeling every inch of his body vibrating with the need to go, to fix, as soon as possible, before the nightmare started all over. “What he did was messy and unforgivable, and he’s left – well, trails. There is a radius outside Gravity Falls still affected by the weirdness – there might possibly be even miniature versions of the rift around. I need to find them, and contain them. You- the kids have done enough. This was my fault to begin with.”
“You mean, it’s your fault when it suits you,” Stanley said, low and bitter.
“I mean, let me do this, Ley!” Stanford snapped, yanking his wrist free. Stanley was staring at him in the darkness – god, he looked too much like dad – like some kind of an angry pitbull, moonlight catching on his glasses, his shoulders hunched, head set deep between their massive width – and suddenly, he looked tired.
“First you say you’re gonna kick me out,” he said, hoarsely. “And now you’re planning to run away in the night? You really don’t want to be around me, do you, Ford?”
“It’s not about that,” said Stanford who suddenly felt like there was something dry and uncomfortable at the bottom of his throat, when the conversation switched to this. “It’s about safety. You should stay here with the kids, someone should –“
“And you were just gonna leave – that thing with us?” Stanley demanded lowly, pointing at Bill. Bill stirred, and then tried to wave. Then he made a gesture Stanford knew for a fact was rude in at least twenty-seven dimensions, theirs not included.
He didn’t know how to proceed with what he was going to say next, but he didn’t have to. Stanley, as per usual, read his face and comprehended.
“You –“ he whispered, voice rasping. “You were going to take him with you?”
“I thought he might be useful,” Stanford said, keeping his voice even, staring somewhere at Stanley’s left shoulder, as passive as he could be to not further incite anything. He understood, of course he understood, why Stanley might be annoyed, because Stanley took everything personally and assumed that Stanford’s world revolved around him – as if siblings were the most important thing in the world. They were there on the list, of course (he added in his mind, hastily), but he was trying to keep everyone safe. And Stanley was obviously hell-bent on making it as difficult as possible.
“You were going to take your little buddy on the road,” Stanley – basically growled, pushing Stanford back against the car. “You were going to take my car, and take off without a word – no, no, you know what. You’re not gonna do this.”
“Ley, be reasonable,” Stanford started lowly, evenly, trying to squash down Stanley's anger, trying to keep him at bay. He used to be able to do it, didn't he? Stanley took a sudden step back, spreading his arms mockingly.
“Wow, hey, reasonable! Ya wanna take off without any ID, with some – megalomaniac dorito who tricked you once before, in the dead of the night? Fine! Let's do it reasonably!”
“All right, so –“ Stanford started again, uncertainly.
“It’s therefore reasonable,” Stanley said, looking like he was gritting his teeth. “That your brother, who does in fact remember how driving works and who owns the car and has money comes along with you.”
Stanford gaped at him, suddenly having a flashback to their entire childhood. Stanley stood there, in the moonlight, glaring at him unpleasantly, curling and uncurling his fingers, like a surly child throwing a tantrum, like he had, in fact, looked once upon a time, like time had merely added some decorative touch. He also looked sorely like he wanted to punch Stanford, and Stanford couldn’t begrudge him for that, because he felt like pulling his hair out.
“You don’t even want to,” Stanford said, realization hitting him. Stanley said nothing, which just confirmed it. “You’re just – what? I’m offering you to stay in the damn house, with the kids! I was even going to take Bill away, to make it safe to be in Gravity Falls – why are you making this so difficult, Stanley? What possible joy can you derive from the two of us in the car with him, for days? Is – do you think you can fix something this way? Let it go, Ley! Can’t we just – let this damn thing go?”
“You mean our relationship?” Stanley asked tensely, his voice sounding dry.
Stanford reacted before he could think. “Yes!”
Stanley stared at him blankly, a stranger with the most familiar face Stanford had ever seen. And he felt bad, he felt incredibly bad, and he wanted to take it back, but he didn’t – because Stanley was a stranger to him, and frankly, from what he remembered, maybe it was better this way.
Suddenly, Stanley smiled mirthlessly, unpleasantly. “Nah. I think I’ll just keep on making a nuisance of myself, bro.”
Stanford suddenly felt incredibly tired.
“Some brother,” he said.
“Yeah,” Stanley said, sounding like he echoed Stanford’s feelings, like they had both just settled on being wearily unpleasant at each other. “Some brother. We’ll leave in the morning.”
Stanford turned, his mind racing to review the whole conversation, and in the darkness he met a pair of glowing, yellow eyes, fixed on him so intensely it made his skin crawl. Suddenly, quite out of the blue, he remembered that feeling of ease he’d once felt for them, that casual elation whenever Bill was just there, in the corners of his mind or whispering in his ear, when Bill had made everything feel just sort of more right just by existing.
He’d probably felt like that about Stanley too, once upon a time.
“Build a pyramid!” Bill yelled at him from across the yard. “It’ll last longer!”
Stanley had already returned inside. Stanford turned, took one last glance of the car, and then walked back into the house.