Chapter Text
The cold bit at his nose, snow falling down heavily and filling his boots. Not for the first time, he regretted coming here, if only for a moment. If it wasn’t for Ford, he’d be tailing it back to his car, spend his money on a motel for once, and stay curled in blankets till June.
But Ford had called on him-and he always answered. He couldn’t abandon his twin now(he abandoned you, why not return the favor?)his traitorous mind added.
He shook his head free of those thoughts, not stopping for a moment as he trudged on. Ford needs him, and it felt as if he was the protector again, standing infront of ford in a fight with a bully or during his fathers wrath(don’t think about dad don’t think about dad-)
He sucked in a deep breath when he saw the house. “KEEP OUT” signs littered the premises and barbed wire lined the entire place. Moses, Ford had to be more paranoid than him, and that’s saying something. For more than a couple seconds this time, he considers going back.
It took him a minute or two to continue moving. By that time, more snow was falling, coating his hands, his hair, his legs-it was fucking freezing, but what can you do? When he reached the door, he paused, holding a hand up to knock. He took a deep breath, mentally prepping himself.
“You haven’t seen your brother in over ten years. It’s okay. He’s family, he won’t bite.”
Stan delivered three sharp knocks, but to his surprise, the door creaked open at his lightest touch.
“Kinda a waste to have all those signs if you don’t lock your door, sixer..” he murmured under his breath, even though the sight made his hairs stand on end. Something was wrong here.
But if his brother was in there…
He took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair(shit, it’s getting long, he should cut it before it gets caught in something) and walked inside. The floorboards groaned under his weight, and immediately a rank smell hit his nose. It was metallic and sickly sweet and familiar.
Blood.
He wrinkled his nose and took a step back, mind racing.
Okay. Fords a scientist. He probably has weird experiments going on. Fighting monsters. It couldn’t be his blood. He’s smart. He wouldn’t get hurt.
Stan nodded to himself. Right. That made sense. Even as he examined the crossbow at the door and the bugs skittering around and the heavy stench, he kept telling himself that. Ford wouldn’t get hurt. Ford was smart. He’d stay safe.
He kept finding things that were disproving his “My brother is safe” theory in every room, but not his brother. He had taken to calling Fords name, yelling till his voice was hoarse and his throat was sore. But his twin wasn’t found. He was opening random doors, peeking into every room until he found one-scratches, bloodied, and gouges in the wood. His gut had a bad feeling about this(though perhaps that’s just the fact he’s only eaten one bowl of ramen in the past eight days), but he opened it anyways.
His mind almost couldn’t comprehend the sight. It was-a body. That was for sure. The organs spilt around it confirmed that. Its stomach was ripped open, and blood was pooled around it. It took him a second to work up the courage to look at its face.
It had a slightly large nose, with a strong chin and messed up hair. One of its eyes was ripped out, and the other had blood under it. A pair of glasses was strewn nearby, the frames cracked. The face looked similar to Stan’s own, and he slightly grimaced. A hand was grabbing at its chest-a six fingered hand.
He sucked in a breath. No. No way. This…really couldn’t be happening.
“Ford?” His voice cracked as he knelt near the body-no, Fords body. Even though scars littered his hands and face, Stan could still recognize him. He always could.
Shit, what had Ford gotten himself into? It looked like a wild animal attack from the clawmarks, but it seemed…too personal. The organs weren’t eaten, just torn out. Fords remaining eye was closed, and his face was frozen in a pained smile. It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Ford was the smart one, the safe one. But this…
He stood up, bile pooling in his throat. He had to get out of here. He staggered out of the room, hand over his mouth. He tripped over a book in his haste, and was sent sprawling to the floor.
He cursed, grabbing his leg.
“Moses, get up. Your brother’s dead. You have to-call Ma, or something.”
But he didn’t. Instead, he turned to look at the book he tripped on. His brother used to do that even at home, leave his books everywhere.
His hand grazed the cover, brushing off the dust. It was torn and dirtied, but he could still read the title. He squinted, holding it up to the light.
“Necromancy-A Bodies Second Chance.”