Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day was October 10th. In a cabin deep in the mountains, Stan Pines awoke to find a gray morning of thin mist and light rain. Pulling on a coat, he took a moment to put on a pair of old but sturdy brown boots. Then he went out into the short hallway and down the stairs. When Stan emerged into the living room he stopped, a smile spreading across his face as he saw his old friend - Honeypants the bear - sprawled in the armchair that served as his bed next to the fireplace; the deep rumbling snores of the animal reverberating in the quiet space of the cabin. Judging by the fact the television was still on - not to mention the open bags of marshmallows, chocolate and box of graham crackers littering the floor, it was clear to Stan that Honeypants had again binged himself into a sugar-induced slumber the night before. Stan chuckled, and patted Honeypants on the shoulder as he headed to the back door.

Stepping out into the chilly morning air, Stan breathed in the scent of wet grass, sighing with contentment as he walked over to the storage shed in the yard. After taking off the padlock and chain which secured the doors, he stepped inside and turned to the small wood pile next to the neatly organized shelves. After grabbing at least four, he stepped out of the shed and began walking back to the house. 

He had only reached the back door when he heard the house phone ringing from inside. Stan quickly walked inside, setting the wood down on the kitchen table before he walked over to where the phone still rang on the wall. He answered it, and almost at once his heart sank.

Almost at once, the first sound he heard on the other end was the sound of who could only Mabel crying in the background. And then he heard a woman’s voice on the other end of the phone - one he recognized immediately as Carol, a close friend of Dipper and Mabel’s parents.

“...Stan?” she said.

“Carol.” Stan answered quietly. In his own ears his voice was calm, but in truth he was worried. There was only one reason for a child to cry the way Mabel was, and as much as he wished it wasn’t true, Stan knew that it must be. He stayed silent, his body growing tense and his hand gripping the phone tighter as he heard Carol draw a shaky breath.

“I…” Carol swallowed, and Stan knew that she was struggling to keep her composure. “Stan… it’s Mason… he and Annie… they… they’re dead.”

Stan went numb. He leaned forward against the wall, aware of the fact that he was hardly breathing as he pressed his forehead against the smooth surface. He forced himself to draw a breath, but it was painful. No. It couldn’t be true… it just couldn’t… he could not see how… 

Alas, this confusion and horror was quickly followed by a terrible burst of pain and grief, and without thinking Stan grabbed the nearest object - which so happened to be a glass he had left on the counter the night before - and hurled it violently against the wall, the violent sound of glass shattering registering only distantly as bitter sobs were forced through his clenched teeth. 

He was not sure how long he stood bent over the counter, his other hand pressed over his eyes as his shoulders heaved with sobs and salty tears rolled down his cheeks.

“H-How…” He said, and the word was barely audible through his gasps. “How did they…”

“It… it was an accident.” Carol bit the words out, obviously just as distraught as Stan was. “They were in the car… they were taking Dipper to a doctor’s appointment….”

Stan’s spine went rigid. Oh God no… please no…

“Is he…?” Stan couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“No,” Carol answered quickly. “But… but he’s hurt. That’s why I’ve called you. I’m at the hospital with Mabel… the doctors are trying to help him now, but… God, Stan… he’s so scared… he only stopped screaming for his parents when the doctors anesthetized him.”

Stan swallowed, and straightened up. He dried his eyes. “Which hospital is it?” he said. “I’m going to book a flight.”

Chapter Text

A week later, it was another quiet night at the cabin. Stan was seated on the couch, with Mabel and Dipper on either side of him as they all watched the television. Honeypants had fallen asleep and hour ago, and Waddles was curled up on the bear's lap, his sleepy oinks causing Mabel and Dipper to giggle from time to time. Every time they did Stan smiled, silently grateful that his niece and nephew were still able to find reasons to smile and laugh, even with what they'd been through.

But now the hour was drawing late, and Stan could see that the twins were finding it harder to stay awake - particularly Dipper, who was already starting to nod off. Stan smiled reaching for the remote and quietly shutting off the TV before he stood up.

Holding his hands out to Mabel and Dipper, he smiled. "Come on, you two. It's time for bed."

Both Mabel and Dipper nodded, and Stan gently took them by the hand before leading them up the stairs and down the short hallway into their bedroom. He tucked them in carefully, being especially mindful and careful of Dipper's broken arm as he helped his nephew climb into bed. And when at last Dipper was settled in under the covers, Stan bent down and kissed his forehead, affectionately running his hand over his nephew's forehead.

"Do you need anything else, Dipper?" he asked.

Dipper was silent for a moment, before finally saying "Will you please stay here for a bit longer? Until we fall asleep, please?"

Stan smiled. "Of course I will. Would you like me to leave your night light on, too?"

Dipper nodded his head. "Yes, please."

So Stan stood up, and walked over the little star shaped night light beside the small chest of drawers. He knelt down and switched it on, and at once the little star was shining with soft, golden glow.

"There we are." Stan walked back over to Dipper, leaning over him one last time to kiss his forehead. "Try to get some rest now, okay?"

Dipper nodded. "Yes, Stan."

Stan smiled slightly. Then he turned and walked over to Mabel, who was sitting up in her bed reading a book of bedtime stories. When Stan sat down next to her she placed it on her bedside table, and moved closer to hug him tightly. Stan held her in his arms, stroking Mabel's soft brown hair.

"If you need anything, just let me know," he said to her. "I'll be right down the hallway."

Mabel nodded. "Thanks, Stan."

Stan kissed the top of her head, and then stood up. He switched of the lamp on Mabel's bedside table, and after making sure that she was tucked in under her blankets, he stood up and walked over to the doorway. There he paused for a moment, looking at his niece and nephew one last time before he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Then he walked down the hall, turning left and heading down the flight of stairs. He walked into the living room, where the only light came from the fire that crackled in the hearth. Stan walked over to the woodpile beside it, and placed a few more logs on the fire before sitting down on the couch. To his left there came a deep, rumbling snore, and he smiled slightly when he saw Honeypants - a bear who Stan had raised since he was a young cub - sprawled in his armchair. The bear's mouth was wide open as he snored, though this didn't seem to bother Waddles, who was still fast asleep in the bear's lap.

Stan gazed into the fire, his sense of time becoming blurred and slow and he watch the dancing yellow and red flames. Before long he found that his eyelids were getting heavier, and he soon fell into a deep slumber. And as he lay sleeping on the sofa, the fire continued to flicker, the glow of it dimming until with a final crackle and shower of sparks, it went out. The clock on the wall ticked softly, its hands slowly turning as the hours went by.

At three in the morning, Dipper sat up in bed. The inside of his throat felt dry, and so he carefully climbed out of bed and walked out into the hallway, heading towards the stairs.

He had a vague thought of pouring himself a cup of water from the fridge, when he stopped suddenly. From below in the kitchen he could hear voices. His Gruncle Stan's, Honeypants' low rumbles, and another man's voice he did not recognize. Moving cautiously, Dipper began to walk down the wooden stairs, being careful not to place them on the squeakiest of the boards as he strained to hear the quiet conversation taking place.

"...and you're sure this is is where he's hiding?"

"Aye. That I am." Dipper stifled a gasp, realizing the second man's voice had a distinctly European accent. British, with a hint of Irish in the enunciation of certain words. "He's a real slimy bastard. Getting in won't be easy... it's lucky I know the guy who built the place years ago, else I may not have gotten these blueprints."

"Indeed..." Stan was quiet for a few moments. "Based on what I'm seeing here, there are crawl spaces we can access from the northern part of the estate."

"Right. In the tool shed. Should be easy enough to manage. And we needn't worry about the guards either. They never go near it unless the power's out."

By now, Dipper had reached the bottom of the stairs. He slowly moved towards the kitchen, where the glow of the kitchen light now provided the only luminance in this part of the house.

"Good to know."

There was a pause, and the stranger must have been staring at Stan, because Dipper heard his uncle speak again.

"What?"

"Are you sure you want to do this?" 

"Absolutely." The answer was immediate, as though Stan had been anticipating it. "He could have a god damn army stationed there and it wouldn't make a difference. When he murdered Mason and Lilly, he brought this on himself."

Dipper gasped, remembering too late to cover his mouth. He froze, worried that he had given himself away - but nothing happened. Stan went on talking quietly, and Dipper began to slowly back way, moving towards the stairs. When he reached them he began to climb them as quickly as he could without making noise, stopping only when he heard the scraping of chairs and footsteps leaving the kitchen. In a panic he froze, eyes wide as he turned his head towards the sound. 

But he need not have been worried. As Stan led the stranger to the door, Dipper was able to get a glimpse of him for a single moment. The man was dressed in a yellow jacket, red flannel shirt, dark pants and a pair of mud stained boots. His hair was dark, with a thick beard and mustache. And, as Dipper heard the door open, he heard the man's name only once.

"Thank you, Johnathan."

There was no answer Dipper could hear after that, but the man must have said goodbye once he stepped out, because a moment later the doors was shut with a soft click. The sound seemed to startle Dipper from the trance he was in. He quickly hurried up the last few steps, walking swiftly back to the bedroom he shared with Mabel. He quickly climbed back into bed, his heart racing as he turned onto his side, facing away from the door as he hugged his pillow tightly. He could hear Stan's footsteps drawing closer, until there was a quiet squeak as the doorknob was turned, and Dipper squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the door open.

Nothing happened. For several moments Dipper heard nothing at all, though he could feel his uncle watching him closely. Then he heard Stan's quiet footsteps as he walked into the bedroom, eventually stopping beside Dipper's bed. What happened next was so unexpected, it took everything Dipper had not to open his eyes and turn over. His uncle leaned over him, his strong arms embracing Dipper with such tenderness that Dipper could feel tears stinging behind his shut eyelids. Then Stan was pressing a cheek to Dipper's hair, giving his nephew's head an affectionate rub before turning and slowly walking away.