Better

Summary: A certain family member comes to visit and he has things to say, much to a young man’s distress.



Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, emotional abuse, attempted physical harm

Word count: 4,413

Requested by @princeasimdiya12!! Hope you enjoy it; I really enjoyed writing it ah!!

AO3





“You did what last year?”

“Oh c’mon Ford, don’t act so surprised. I’ve been doing dumb shit like that since we were young.”

“Okay, sure, but these were young kids. Don’t you think that was a little bit of overkill?”

Stan shook his head, grinning mischievously in Ford’s direction, making his way through an opened pack of gummy bears he had snooped from the bowl by the front door. When Ford continued to stare at him disbelievingly, Stan waved his hand, talking past the gummies in his mouth.

“Hey, in their defense, none of that even worked! Not even the ‘sausages-as-intestines’ bit, and I thought that was pretty intense.”

Ford’s face screwed up in amusement before biting into a chocolate bar. “I’m sure it was,” he mused sarcastically. A moment passed before Ford’s brows drew down, in obvious confusion.

“Then how the hell did you manage to scare them?”

Stan let out a gruff laugh, patting his protruding gut. “Turns out old people are gross, but else is new?”

Stan could tell that Ford had questions dancing on his lips, but he made the better choice not to ask and simply leaned back into the couch, a bemused smile ghosting his face. “So I’m guessing no candy was bought this year?” Ford said, settling on a tamer question.

“Hey, you do got some brains up in your head, Poindexter,” Stan smiled good-naturedly, earning a scoff from Ford. “Yup,” Stan continued, popping another gummy into his mouth. “All of this was donated by those two pesky kids.”

“I hope you’re not using the word ‘donated’ religiously.”

“Same difference really.”

The pair shared a chuckle and lapsed into a silence. Well, not a total silence. The television was on, for one. The channel was marathoning cheesy, B-movies, more for nostalgia’s sake rather than actual terror-factor.

Ford had nitpicked the first movie to absolute shreds, much to Stan’s mixture of annoyance and amusement, but as the second movie’s title screen faded into view, the stubborn man had shut up about it, apparently all his pent-up energy exhausted within the first two hours. He and Stan still made little comments about it, but they made a silent agreement just to enjoy the movie for what it was, even if Dracula was more than a little inaccurate.

Every few minutes, the doorbell would ring, eager little children waiting outside for their candy. The twins alternated going to the door to attend to the kids, though Stan groaned every time he had to do it, complaining about ‘giving stuff away for free.’ Ford would then remind him how he actually obtained the candy, Stan’s annoyance making Ford chuckle.

Every other round (which was Ford’s), the kids sometimes confused him with Stan and Ford had to point his brother out behind him. The kids would seem surprised and then give Stan frantic waves, while the parents gave him more knowing smiles.

Sometimes the parents would hang back for a few moments, asking how their lives out on the sea have been, and –more in Ford’s case- ask how Stan’s memories were doing.

“He’s a strong man,” Ford would say. “If I know anything about him, it’s that; he’s doing fine.”

They would then smile at him, like hearing those words meant the world (realistically, it probably did) and would bid him and his brother a goodnight.

It actually felt good, Ford felt, to talk to the inhabitants of the weird, quirky little town. While he didn’t think he’d go out of his way to talk to most of these people, it was nice to see some friendly faces that apparently cared very much for his brother; he supposed it made the interactions that much easier.

He even noticed that the little pale boy with the almost blinding white hair stood at the door when Stan opened it for his round. The two had frozen for a minute, their gazes undoubtedly connecting. Ford had sat rigid for a few moments, expecting some sort of fallout or crude comments. Nothing of the sort happened, however. The kid gave a genuine quirk of the lips –not a full smile yet- and said “trick or treat” in a small, thick southern accent (no, that didn’t make Ford twitch and no that didn’t make Ford feel guilty, god he needed to see Fidds again) before holding his bag out, the other young kids following in suit, obviously oblivious to the silent conversation between their short friend and the old con artist.

Stan had hesitated for a few moments, mulling the situation over in his head. As time went on, the kid’s attempted smile faltered and his demeanor changed into something a little more submissive. Suddenly, Stan’s shoulders relaxed and he shoved his hand into the bowl, plopping a generous amount into each child’s bag.

“Have a good Summerween, kiddos,” Stan said, trying –and failing, in Ford’s opinion- to keep his soft side from coming out. The kids chorused a ‘thank you’ and turned back to their waiting parents, bragging about the amount of candy they had received. The pale child swallowed visibly and peered behind Stan, making eye contact with Ford for a split moment before turning and scurrying off, one of his chubby hands pulling nervously at his earlobe.

Stan had taken a particular long time shutting the door before he noticed Ford staring. He set the bowl down and harrumphed as he sat down next to Ford. “I’m still pissed at him for what he did to Mabel.”

Ford gave a gentle smile, but didn’t respond the pair of them knowing that and that the kid was trying. That’s all that really mattered, they both knew.

So that’s how the pattern went for the next few hours, the kids at their door getting older and fewer as the hours drifted later into the night. The elder pair assumed that both Dipper and Mabel would return when Wendy and her group of friends had had their fun either terrorizing small children or vandalizing property. Stan proposed that if they weren’t back by ten, then he’d send Soos out to retrieve them. He knew Wendy knew that Dipper and Mabel were still kids, even though they had technically entered their teen years last August. She also knew that Stan would fight tooth and nail for them, so if anything happened to them, she’d never hear the end of it. She knew who she was dealing with so she knew it was in her best interest to return the kids home at a decent hour. It wasn’t like she’d let them stay out all night either; she loved the little twerps too.

As the third movie rolled into the credits, the pair of elder twins were very relaxed, tired even, which for Ford was a massive feat. They heard the sound of a truck pulling into the shack’s parking lot and the door shutting with a bang.

The front door opened and Soos sauntered inside, a white sheet draped over one shoulder and a burlap bag slung over his other.

“Hello Mr. Pineses!” he greeted, setting the sheet on the stair’s banister and pulling the burlap bag into his arms.

The twins greeted Soos simultaneously as he shuffled into the living room, sitting on the floor in front of Stan’s feet like a child. He turned the bag over and a cascade of sweets tumbled from the fabric, creating a miniature mountain of brightly coloured candies. “It’s like a treasure trove for candy out there tonight!”

“I can see that,” Stan chuckled, leaning over to pick up a bag of Pop Rocks from the scattered goods. “Did you have Melody help ya?”

“Yup!” Soos yipped happily, tearing open a bag of pretzels, of all things. “We were both sheet ghosts, although her costume was a lot better than mine.”

“Oh?” Stan said, the small candies popping in his mouth. “What kind of special sheets did she use?”

Soos glanced up at him confusedly before smiling and shrugging. “It was a white sheet, just like mine, she just rocked it a lot better than me. She makes everything look a lot prettier.”

Stan didn’t say anything as he watched Soos shuffle through his candy, listening to his occasional comments about the sweets, but he gave a genuine smile in his direction, for once ignoring Ford’s playfully accusing stare.

Eventually, the trio managed to fit together on the couch, Stan and a bowl of candy squished between Soos and Ford. Soos mourned that Melody couldn’t be there with them as she had other matters to attend to, but eventually fell silent, obviously very content with sitting next to Stan. Ford noticed that Stan didn’t seem to mind; in fact, Stan seemed to actually enjoy sitting next to Soos, even going as far to put an arm around the big man’s shoulders.

And probably even more amazingly, when Stan had noticed that Ford was looking at him with a soft, proud gaze, Stan simply shrugged and offered a small smile before turning his attention back to Soos, who was talking up a storm about his time with Melody.

Ford didn’t look at Stan again, but he could feel a smile grace his lips every time Stan laughed at what Soos said or when Stan’s hold on his “son” got just a little bit tighter.

The sound of shattering glass brought the three men out of their peaceful stupor, all their gazes sharpening and aimed at the swinging door that lead to the gift shop.

Ford’s hand instantly went to his hip, grabbing onto his pants instead of the gun he fully expected to be there. He was halfway standing up before Stan pushed himself up, using Ford’s shoulder as leverage, an action Ford supposed had dual purpose.

“I’ll go check it out,” Stan said, his voice slightly slurred with sleepiness. “Probably some teens pullin’ a prank.”

“Stan-“Ford started, only to get cut off with Stan’s sharp glare.

“Ford, its fine; nothin’ I can’t handle, okay?”

Stan then looked over at Soos and nodded towards Ford. “Soos, did you ever tell Ford about the creature you saw in the woods? A burpee or somethin’?”

Soos’ eyes lit up and gazed at Ford. “A banshee, Dr. Pines!”

Ford regarded Soos carefully, honestly intrigued by the idea of a banshee, if not a flock of them, hunkering down in the woods. He always thought the birds sounded a little odd down by the retirement home.

Ford turned and glared at Stan. “If it’s something that requires my concern-“

“Yes, I’ll call for ya,” Stan dismissed with a wave of his hand before turning around and shambling to the swinging door.

Ford’s gaze followed Stan for a few seconds after he retreated into the gift shop, hearing Stan say “damn kids” after a few moments, making Ford relax considerably. The man then turned his attention to Soos, who had a patient smile on his face.

“A banshee, you say?”

“Damn kids,” Stan grumbled under his breath, flicking on the light and searching for any reflecting shards of glass. It didn’t take him too long to find that a snow globe had been knocked over, glycol and plastic flakes pooling out onto the wood beside the far door. The glass lay beside it, glistering in the flickering bulb overhead.

He grumbled and made his way closer to it, not noticing for a few very long seconds the figure that was looming in the far corner of the room.

Once he noticed it though, he whirled on his feet, picking up his fists in a fighting stance, 40 year old instincts and adrenaline kicking in, flinging any remaining dreariness out of his system.

“What the hell are you?” Stan growled, noting the faint blue wash the figure possessed. In the back of his head, the word “ghost” filtered through and, after a few more moments of relative silence, became more plausible.

He was almost too close for comfort to the spectere; maybe three long strides away, so not only could he feel the strange, vibrating energy that radiated off the creature, but he also couldn’t hear Ford and Soos in the other room, which means they couldn’t hear him. God forbid Stan would make their presence known to the intruder, Ford’s warning be damned.

“Disappointed.”

Stan froze and the tirade in his throat fizzled into nothing, settling like rocks in his gut. He wanted to take a step back, but the voice, the deeply rooted sense of fear kept him there, glued to the floor.

The ghost turned its head towards him, its face illuminating grossly in the yellowed light. Despite the lack of actual, physical face, the glow cast dark shadows on his theoretical cheekbones and jaw, black sockets where his eyes should be.

The ghost stared down Stan a few seconds longer, probably enjoying watching Stan practically wilt into the ground from shock alone. The ghost, the man, grimaced and looked about him again, little specks of white light indicating his pupils.

It was absolutely haunting.

The man looked back to Stan, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Very disappointed.”

“Get out.”

If it was possible, the man’s glare got harder and he walked –well floated, really- closer to Stan, smirking when he took a fearful step back. “That’s no way to speak to your father.”

“You’re dead,” Stan bit, his façade almost conning itself. “I can speak to you however I damn well please.”

Filbrick narrowed his black eyes and pursed his lips. “Well, I suppose if that’s how this is going to play out, two can play at that, so you’d better fucking listen up.”

Stan would be lying if he said he didn’t shrink away, at least a little when his father’s voice dropped an octave at the last three words.

It took all of Stan’s might to stand as tall as he could as his father shoved his finger in his face and it took even more not to try to swat it away, knowing that he’d phase right through it and knowing that his father would hurt him if he did.

Wait.

His father was dead, quite literally a ghost before his very eyes; he couldn’t hurt Stan at all.

But that thought did not soothe Stan at all to his immense frustration.

The pain and the fear were rooted so deeply within him; even the literality of death couldn’t shake him.

He was still scared of his father

It scared him even more to realize that.

“You really were a hopeless cause, weren’t you? I gave you the opportunity to go out and make millions and this is what you do?” Filbrick said, brandishing an arm to gesture to the trinkets and gizmos on the shelves. “You go out to the middle of fuckin’ nowhere to sell keychains and snow globes!”

Stan seethed. “Opportunity? You were the one with the opportunity. You already had my goddamn bag packed when you kicked me to the curb. You jumped on that opportunity. You left me with nothing!”

Filbrick dutifully ignored him, his eye twitching at the interruption, though. “Not only that, but you had the gall to fake your own death for reasons I cannot even imagine! I knew something was fishy when it was a closed casket service and Stanford didn’t seem all that disturbed. He knew something, didn’t he?”

Filbrick when to grab Stan’s shoulders, but they simply phased through him, though it did give Stan an unpleasant shudder.

“When I didn’t find you wandering this bullshit ghost world when I kicked the bucket, I assumed that you cheated so much you duped death itself, and it looks like I was right. You got your dumbass brother to cover your ass for whatever reason and went on your merry way without visiting your family once. You disgraceful, pathetic, waste of human life.”

Stan stared at his seething father for a few seconds before his lips curled into a small, pitiful smile, even though the words burned like fire. “So that’s what you think?”

“That’s what I know.”

“Right,” Stan huffed, daring to break his gaze from his father for the first time since the start of the encounter. “Ford!” he called, relishing in the little head tilt that Filbrick did.

“You okay, Stan?” came the reply, quickly and nervously. It made Filbrick’s eyes go wide.

“Yeah, just come in here for a second.”

Stan turned his gaze back to Filbrick, the pitiful smile turning into something prouder before Filbrick’s laugh made him freeze.

“You can’t do anything without your brother, can you? You can’t even pay a mortgage by yourself.” Filbrick’s white pupils seemed to flare in the assessment. “I’m surprised you haven’t stolen your brother’s money and hit the road yet; that seems like something you’d do.”

“Did you find the vandals, Stan?” Ford said as he rounded the corner. “It appears as if they’ve broken one of your sn-“

Ford stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes fell on the ghost. The initial expression of shock wore off after a few moments, being replaced with steely resolve.

“Filbrick,” he greeted coolly, instinctively shifting closer to Stanley.

Filbrick’s lip curled in distaste. “Surprised to see you here, Stanford.”

“Likewise,” Ford quipped, his hand twitching by his side. “What do you want?”

“None of your business, Stanford,” Filbrick growled, edging closer to Stan, his demeanor growing more dangerous by each passing second. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of my way.”

“You have no power here, Filbrick,” Ford said testily. “You have no place here. Leave.”

Filbrick paused for a moment before laughing again, though it sounded a little more strained now. “Took you long enough to grow a pair, Stanford, but now you’re standin’ up to the wrong fella.”

Stan noticed Ford redden a little and he narrowed his eyes a little, trying hard to not let their father see that he got to him. Ford opened his mouth to retort, but Filbrick beat him to it.

“You’re just as bad as your brother, you know that? Abandoning your family, not making a family-“ Filbrick said, the strained smile turning more and more sinister. “Not sharing any of your inheritance, leaving without saying goodbye. What kind of offspring does that make you?”

“Better,” a new voice said timidly.

The three of them looked behind them to see Soos standing a little ways behind them, his posture slightly coiled and his hands wringing together nervously.

Stan felt Ford go rigid beside him and a pang of sympathy shot through Stan at the quick, subtle change. Ford was scared too.

Filbrick grimaced behind the twins. “Who the hell is this?”

“A family friend,” Stan said quickly, noting Soos’ set jaw and defensive expression. “Go back into the living room, Soos,” Stan said, softer and more father-like.

“No,” Soos said, much to the twins’ surprise. Filbrick seemed unmoved, interested even.

“He’s not being nice to you and that’s not fair!” Soos said, his voice rising a little with agitation. “He should be proud of you, not hurting you.”

“Proud?” Filbrick snorted, phasing through the two twins to stand in front of Soos. Stan and Ford shuddered and took a few steps closer to Soos, Stan more vehemently than his older twin.

“You think I should be proud of these two sorry excuses for sons?” Filbrick challenged, towering over the poor young man. Soos, surprisingly, kept his nerve and didn’t back away, but didn’t meet the ghost’s eye.

“I think that a parent should love their child, no matter what they choose in life. They should never leave them alone on the streets or with only an abuelita to raise them.” Soos said softly, meeting Stan’s eyes for a split moment before looking down at his untied shoes.

“Besides,” he continued. “They’ve done more than you could ever imagine; both of them.”

“Oh really?” Filbrick scoffed mockingly. “I find that incredibly hard to believe.”

“I’m not lying!” Soos pouted, his head whipping up to stare at the Stan’s father. He then looked at Ford, gesturing with his arm. “Dr. Pines got 12 PhDs and traveled across multiple dimensions! He helped save the world when an evil nacho tried to take it over. He’s super smart and he tries really hard to be the best person he can be. Does that not make you proud?”

Soos didn’t wait for a response before he took a deep breath and gestured to Stan beside Ford, who was looking down, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes lost in the middle space.

Stan put a hand on Ford’s arm, maybe trying to ease his brother out of his stupor or to keep himself from running up and trying to deck his father across the face.

“Mr. Pines spent thirty years trying to get Ford back from those dimensions! Mr. Pines started a business from nothing, trying to make enough money to pay off the mortgage before his brother came back. He gave me a place to go when my house was just too suffocating. He sacrificed himself to save the world without a second thought and he loves his family so much. Does that not make you proud?”

There was a few passing seconds of silence before their father spoke again, his voice more vulnerable than either Stan or Ford ever remembered. “You’re lying.”

Soos’ brows furrowed. “I am not! You’re so blinded by what you wanted them to be, you never saw what they could be! You saw Dr. Pines as a way to make money and you saw Mr. Pines as nothing; a good for nothing, selfish kid who would never measure up to anything! Mr. Pines has become more of a father and a man than you ever were and you don’t want to believe that because then you’d be wrong!”

Filbrick’s form shuddered and flickered red, the blue screaming like static across his body. “How dare you speak to me that way?”

Soos ignored him, though his gusto shuddered a bit at Filbrick’s sudden alteration in form. “You don’t want to be wrong because that would invalidate all the horrible stuff you did and said to them! You don’t want to be wrong because that tears away your authority. You don’t want to be wrong because that would prove your sons right, and that’s taboo for you, isn’t it?”

Filbrick’s hand balled into a fist and he struck at Soos. Stan jumped forward on impulse and pushed Soos away from his father, aware of the chills that tore at his back. Stan whirled on his father who was flickering madly, his nonphysical body giving the illusion of hard, laboured breathing. Soos pressed against Stan’s back, his heart palpitating through Stan’s scarred shoulder.

“Get out,” Stan said dangerously, staring right into Filbrick’s white pupils. “Don’t you ever come back.”

“Or what?” Filbrick spluttered, still seething from the words the young man had attacked him with.

Ford stepped to Stan’s side, glowering at his father. “Or I’ll perform an exorcism, which will damn you to where you belong and you’ll never be able to walk on this plane of this planet again. You will never be able to rest and you’ll writhe in the hell you’ve created for yourself, do you understand?”

Filbrick went to retort, but seeing Ford’s serious and resolved face, knowing that his son meant business, he shut his lips and started him down, not saying a word.

“Good,” Ford bit. “Now go.”

Filbrick stared at Ford for a few seconds longer before turning to Stan, seeing that twin’s eyes just as hard and demanding.

“I’ll never be proud of you,” Filbrick said, looking between the three of them.

“We don’t need anything from you,” Stan said, nodding towards the door. “You’re not our father.”

With that final comment Filbrick gave one, final indifferent scoff and he turned to the door, phasing through it. His blue glow vanished into the dark woods in a matter of seconds and the hum of energy melded into the sounds of nighttime.

“Man,” Soos breathed, moving away from Stan and hugging himself, his breathing a little uneven. “Can’t believe that dude was your dad.”

“Yeah,” Stan agreed, turning to Soos, taking a quick glance at Ford. “He wasn’t impressed easily.”

“At all,” Ford muttered, glancing up at Soos, a small, thankful smile on his face. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Soos smiled back and shrugged. “Sure I did. It was unfair and you didn’t deserve it.”

He looked at Stan, his smile becoming sheepish. “I mean, what kind of son would I be if I didn’t stand up for my dad?”

Stan gave a smile in return; Ford noticed his cheeks tinge red. “Still a good one,” he said quickly before looking away, embarrassed. “We should go see if the kids are back.” He shuffled away, walking through the swinging door and into the living room.

Ford laughed as his brother vanished into the other room, noticing that Soos was chuckling too, a happy smile on his face. “He loves me; he just doesn’t like to admit it.”

“You are very right,” Ford grinned, turning to Soos, his eyes sobering ever so slightly. “Thank you; really, you didn’t have to stand up to him. I know it was hard.”

“Yeah, but it was worth it!” Soos beamed, making is way back into the living room, where he actually heard the voices of Dipper, Mabel, and Wendy, surprisingly. “Now, he can’t ever call you two mean things again!”

Ford laughed and followed Soos into the living room, where three teens were sitting, surrounded by many mountains of candy. Stan stood before them, marveling at the amount of goods they had, asking them if they had stolen any at all. After a chorus of sarcastic “no’s” Stan chuckled and congratulated them before taking his place on the couch, watching his brother do the same. Soos joined the teens on the floor and sorted through the candy, taking occasional glances up at Stan, unadulterated love and admiration forming stars in his eyes.

The rest of the night was uneventful, but only after Mabel insisted the whole family try to fit on the couch for movie time. They miraculously succeeded and that’s how the night went, the family curled together in surprising comfort.

Nobody dreamed of Filbrick and perhaps that was the most miraculous feat of them all.