A collection of shots, telling what happens sometimes when Gruncle Ford gets back and how the family deals with it.

THIS HURT TO WRITE OHMYGOD

It was late a rainy night, and everyone except Stanley was asleep.

Man, I must be gettin' old, he thought to himself. Maybe some water will help.

He traveled from his room and into the kitchen where- the light was on?

Immediately his guard was up, watching and listening for any intruders. What was that smell?

Oh, just coffee. Stanford must have been up making some and forgotten to turn off the lights.

HE WILL PAY FOR THIS

Shaking his head and turning off the machine, Stanley walked out of the kitchen and turned off the lights. He checked the rest of the house, just to make sure. But when he got to the gift shop, the vending machine was open and light was streaming out from it.

Stan sighed. What better time to go yell at his brother? He went downstairs and looked in the lab.

"Hey, Poindexter? Are ya down here?" He entered with trepidation. Something flattered to his right. Stan brushed it off. He'd been down here many times by himself...

In the dark...

Strange things clattering all over the place...

Ah, that mumbling must be Ford. Stan followed the sound and entered into a workroom and found Ford- sleeping. He was mumbling to himself, probably about nerd things. Stan took a minute to look around.

Bookshelf!

No, too many books.

Strange computer thing!

No, he didn't know how it worked. He turned back to his brother and watched him drool on his second journal, which was opened to a partially blank page. He took out his phone and captured a shot of his brother and snickered. This was going in Mabel's scrapbook.

"Huwifu," Stan heard as he turned to leave. He turned back to his brother, whose mumbling had gotten louder.

"Hey, bro, I don't understand ya," Stan laughed. He ceased a little, however, when he saw his brother's face flicker to a grimace.

"'S... my faulll..."

Stan, now intrigued, was confused. What was his fault?

"N-no... please..."

"Heh... Hey, Poindexter, wake up."

"Please... no... no, no, no! I-I won't... I w-won't..."

Stanley laid what he hoped was a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder.

"T-take me... me, not h-him... Please..." His face was now locked in a state of fear. Ford was having a nightmare.

"I... I'll do anything-"

There was a pause, and Stan waited so long he thought it might have been over, but it continued.

"I- I... N-no, please... H-hurts..."

Stanley was now very alarmed, as you can imagine. He shook his brother, trying to wake him up, but to no avail.

"C...Cipher..."

Excusemewhat

"I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." He began sobbing. "My fault... my fault... my fault, my trouble... useless worthless stupid idiot freak..."

Stan shook his brother harder, trying to wake him up.

"Hurts... Lee, please..."

Stan was surprised, now. What am I doing?

"Forgive... me, my fault..." Ford began to writhe in pain, small whimpers coming from him.

"Ford!" Stan tried shouting. "Ford! Wake up!"

"Hurts! Hurts! Hurts... No, please... no! Nonononononono-"

Stan slapped him across the face. Ford woke with a scream and fell out of his chair, backing up against the wall. His face was still frozen in fear, and his glasses weren't positioned right on his face.

"Wh...What?" He breathed, hand still in front of his face as if to protect him from whatever had been hurting him. His voice was shaky.

"Hey, Poindexter," Stanley said, but not really feeling the sarcasm. "Calm down, okay?"

His brother coughed. "St-Stanley?"

"Yeah." He knelt down next to him, pretending not to notice the way he flinched. "Are you okay?"

Ford fixed his glasses. "Y-yeah. I think so."

Stan shook his head. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" Ford asked, confused. Had he been there to witness it?

"What was that nightmare about?" Stan sat next to his brother, avoiding some sort of evil-looking nuts and bolts on the floor.

"N-nothing," Ford said as he reached out to move the objects. His shirt slipped over his shoulder and Stanley could see large red marks on it. Where had those come from?

"Ford. Come on. I was there for the whole thing. What does Bill Cipher have to do with this?"

"Nothing," Ford said a little more firmly. "Just- leave me alone, okay? It's fine."

"No, it's not fine," Stanley said. "Stanford, please. I wanna help."

His brother looked at the objects in his hand and sighed. "Alright," he said. "I'll tell you."

"The nightmare was about Weirdmageddon. He- Bill C-Cipher- was... um, upset, to say the least. And... everyone had survived... in the shack... but he was angr-ry... and h-he said that he would d-destroy everything... and we wouldn't s-s-s-survive this time... and then- then- then you and everyone Dipper and Mabel were there- and- h-he... k-killed all of you... and then-"

He sobbed and Stanley wrapped his arms around him, giving his twin comfort. They stayed like this for a while. Stanley almost fell asleep when Ford continued.

"When... He took me. Into his castle thing he'd built. H-he... Had a whole army of... monsters and demons... and they... they t-t-tortured me. He... stopped t-time progression... and for an eternity he tortured me." Ford dug his face into his brother's jacket.

"It hurt a lot," he whispered. "I- I've got nightmares... He comes back and he- he..." Ford said no more.

Stanley rubbed his brother's head like he had before he'd gotten kicked out, when they were kids and people used to make fun of his six fingers. "It's okay now, Stanford. It's okay."

Ford didn't reply. They sat in silence, both trying to think of ways they could end the situation at hand, but came up with nothing. Stanley continued rubbing his brother's head.

"...Hey, Ford? Howzabout telling me where you got that infinity dice?"

No reply. Stanley looked at his brother and realized that he'd fallen asleep, and nightmares were nowhere to be found. He'd forgotten, honestly, that messing with his brother's hair had always put him to sleep.

"...Don't tell anyone about this, huh?" Stanley said, and he too fell asleep.