Note 1/2: I sure hope I didn't screw up! *carefully presses publish*

"STANLEY!" Before that one-eyed freak was able to say anything else, Stanley catapulted forward with a strong right hook. No one messes with the Pines family, it was practically written in his blood. The triangular demon shattered in all directions, falling into the blue inferno slowly eating at Stan's mind.

Stanley sighed in relief, he was exhausted, tired, but still strong as memories drifted away from him, ambers flying too quickly to catch. His dark past, his happier almost-present, he sighed as all these memories washed away in the blue light. He turned around. He grabbed the picture sitting there nicely, perfectly on the old endtable. Him, Stanley Pines. With two amazing children. Mabel and Dipper Pines.

Even with all of this magic mumbo-jumbo clearing himself from his mind and everything that was and is Stanley Pines, he didn't accept that he'd ever forget these kids, no matter what. Heck, maybe Ford would finally thank him. I mean, he got rid of Bill, right? "Heh... Guess I was good for something after all..."

He breathed in the flame.

He forgot who he was.

Where he was.

Why he was.

...

But the last things that were out of his mind, were his brother, and two very special kids. He loved them. He vowed to protect them.

...

...

Who were they?

There was a clink. He heard it, whoever he was.

There were a few grunts and yelps. As if some creatures (humans?) fell... from what?

There was much more noise. He was scared, and didn't move. (What is movement?). Whooshing noises, as if something... multiple somethings were being lifted to... the sky? The void? The stars? He wasn't sure.

...was he even a he?

There was a pulse. He tried not to move. Something, something was ripping him away from his body. What was it? He couldn't leave. He shouldn't leave. He was confused, but he knew he needed to stay... he needed to protect... something.

...

He attached himself to his body. He couldn't leave, not until he was done.

...

With what?

It was quiet. No, it wasn't. There were chirps. Annoying, chirps. He felt the wind brush through his top. (Hair? Was that the term?).

There was a girl. He seen it through his eyes. He tried movement, his eyelids passed his vision lazily.

"Oh my gosh! Grunkle Stan! You did it!" The girl squeaked happily. She placed an object on his head. It felt weird.

He should reply. He tried movement again. "Oh... uh." Good, he could move his mouth to communicate. "Hey there," what does he call smaller versions of humans again? "Kiddo."

She was touching him. Gently, he grabbed her little wrists and took them off himself. "What's your name?"

There was a boy, too. They looked similar. The girl spoke, again. "Heh, Grunkle Stan?"

"Who are you talking to?" He used movement to find someone else behind him she could have been talking to. Who was Grunkle Stan?

"C-come on, it's me. It's me. Grunkle Stan!" The poor kid sounded broken, it made him feel weird. "Grunkle Stan, it's me!"

He watched as she was pulled back by the boy.

There was another person. "We had to erase his mind to defeat Bill." The girl shook her head, hands clapped against her mouth. She was horrified. "It's all gone."

That sounded familiar. The girl's eyes welled up with tears. "Stan has no idea, but he did it. He saved the world... he saved me." The other person's deep voice went high in anguish as he knelt down before him. The other person's hand gripped his shoulder. "You're our hero, Stanley."

The girl was crying, and the man wrapped two arms around him. He was confused, even the boy was crying. His first instinct was to smile, or laugh about this whole thing and comfort them.

...

But why would he do that to people he didn't even know?

...

They helped him up. They took off his jacket and replaced it with some kind of blazer in hopes that he might remember. He didn't.

They led him away. It was too bad, he liked it there. He thought he liked this new place better. He even told them while he observed the place. Places were good. He liked this one. It was nice.

"It's your place, Grunkle Stan."
"Don't you remember, even a little?"

It wasn't his place. His place was different, wasn't it? He didn't remember, but it certainly wasn't this colorful. Didn't he hate color?

He sat down in a nearby chair... sofa... thing. Some kind of... pig followed him. "Nope! But this chair hugs my butt like it remembers." He sighed.

He didn't really think as more words flew from his mouth. He tried to brighten the room with borderline insensitive comments. "Why the long faces? You guys look like it's someone's funeral." He noticed someone sobbing. What was that? "Who's that big guy crying in the corner?"

They were talking.

It was confusing. Before he knew it, the girl grabbed something and scampered beside him. She opened up a glittery book and began pointing to the pictures. "Here's the first day we came to Gravity Falls, Grunkle Stan. And here's a macaroni interpretation of my emotions!"

She kept flipping, flipping, and flipping the pages. His eyes struggled to keep up with the family photos. That was definitely the kids in there, but was that even him? He only got overwhelmed and more confused, he felt... bad?

Even the boy started pointing memories out he didn't remember.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what this is, or who you are..."

The pig jumped on him. "Ugh! Quit it, Waddles! You stupid pig, I'm trying to remember my life story!" He tried holding the pile of meat at arm's length, but the pig persisted and started spreading his mouth fluid on him.

Both kids gasped. "What did you say?"

"I said get Waddles off of me! This stupid sack of bacon is putting his saliva all over my face." As if ignoring him, they continued gaping.

"It's working! Keep reading." The man was right, he did feel like he was starting to remember....

He remembered. Not everything, not his name, but he knew who these people were, a bit about their expectations of him, and he knew protecting them came first.

For whatever reason that may be.

"Skip to my page, he needs to remember our boss-employee relationship." Soos said.

He couldn't recall ever calling him Soos, but he'd have to if he wanted to pull this off. They had to think he remembered everything. "Just because I have amnesia, don't try give yourself a raise, Soos."

A few days later, was a party. He was Stanley Pines.

You see, he wasn't always this way. Imagine living without knowing who you are. Not knowing, where you are, what you are. His family liberated him from that loneliness.

They continued to, and he was happy. They could've been happier, so he threw the twins a birthday party. A big one, it wasn't as big as he had first hoped it would be, but his brother insisted flashing lights and loud music would trigger some sort of "PTSD".

He was clapping for the children (Why was he clapping?) when Stanford approached him, putting a six-fingered hand on his shoulder. "Stanley, I need to talk to you."

He was led behind the shack. "I didn't want to say anything with everyone listening, but we got a problem."

"I'd say! What is this, a funeral? This town needs to learn how to liven up a little, yeesh." Stan turned towards the party and gestured to the guests.

"What? No, Stanley. Weirdmageddon has been contained, but I'm detecting some strange new anomalies near the Arctic Ocean. I want to go investigate it, but I think I might be too old to go it alone..."

Stan felt his eye twitch. He remembered a boat, a broken dream, and- Ford wanted to sail with his brother again. Sail with Stanley. Him. "Are you saying you need someone to help you sail around the world in the adventure of a lifetime?"

"I don't just want someone to come with me, Stanley. I want it to be you. Will you give me a second chance?"

Second chance. He was handed a picture. It was little Stanley and Stanford in sepia. He tried to remember, but it was distant. Like a memory of a memory, he remembered. He didn't feel the want. Not after what Stanford did. ...what did he do?

"Do you think we'll find gold? And babes?"

Ford smiled. "I'd say there's a high probability, but... what should we do with the mystery shack?"

He barked out a quick laugh. "I think this town's had enough mystery for one lifetime. We should give her a proper send off."

"Closing 'er down? Giving her away?" Ford suggested.

Stan's eyes widened, those were really good ideas. He pulled out his lighter and lit it. "I was suggesting we burn it, but-" He flicked the lighter off. "I like your idea better."

...burning did seem a little extreme.

There was no gold man. So, he grabbed an empty glass Pitt bottle and clanked his brother's metallic pen against it. "Everybody, I have an announcement to make. Me and IQ over here have some catching up to do. We're going to be away for a while, that's why I'm shutting down the mystery shack for good!"

All around them, everyone gasped.

Soos ran up on stage and gave a lengthy, heartfelt speech. "You shut down this shack, and you shut down our dreams! At least... my dreams."

He grimaced as that feeling of 'dang it, why aren't you happy?!' returned. "I'm sorry, kid. There's just no one to run it..." He paused as an idea wriggled into his mind. "At least there wouldn't be if I hadn't just found the perfect replacement." He took off the hat he had been wearing the past few days and placed it atop Soos' head. It wasn't really his style, anyways.

...

Should he get a new one?

The kids were leaving. He looked at the sweater Mabel made him. He could wear it... he should wear it. He was confused to why he wouldn't... but he knew he needed to. Oh, right.

He needed them to be happy. Why? They were his family, and over the past few days he had realised that wanting them happy was practically in his blood.

It was weird seeing them leave. He didn't remember everything about them. He remembered seeing them running around the house. They were cute troublemakers who didn't know what they were getting into half the time, he loved them.

Yet, he felt satisfaction when they drove away. He didn't accomplish anything, did he? ...did he?

They were packing. They were leaving the day after.

He remembered more. "...Ford?"

"Hm? Yes, Stanley?" Ford responded, distracted as he loaded a few weapons into his bag.

"Er... did we ever... build something together?" He asked awkwardly, remembering helping his brother with some blueprints. Or was he alone?

Ford frowned. "The... the Stan-o-war?"

"Is that what it was called?" He scratched his chin, that was a weird thing to call a multidimensional portal. "Huh."

"You know, Stanley, if you want, we could name our ship Stan-O-War, the second." Ford asked, it would be a sweeter twist to a sweet end.

"Stan-O-War II? Sure, why not?" He didn't see anything wrong with that. He packed a few more things in his bag before sighing. There was one more thing he had to get off his chest.

...

"Uh, Ford?" He asked.

"Yes, Stanley?" Ford replied, closing his bag and shrinking it to be put in a bigger bag.

"Who... Who was Bill? You guys keep talking about him like he was satan or something." He attempted a light hearted laugh.

"Bill Cipher. He was a two dimensional demon with a flat life and flat dreams. He tried to destroy your mind, tried to destroy our family-" he felt a twinge in his chest. The only ancient being terrorizing his family should be him. "And this world. ...If you want to defile his stoney leftovers, we'll have time before we leave."

To him, Bill sounded like a busy guy. I mean, how would one even destroy something so big? "Sure."

He didn't agree just so he could go vandalise some statue, he wanted to see what this nutjob looked like.

They were at the statue. "This guy... tried to destroy our world?" He stared at the stoney triangle, overgrown with plants and covered in spray paint.

"Yes, Stanley... I'm genuinely surprised you wouldn't remember something this big..." Ford pushed up his glasses. "He's the one who... he's the reason we had to erase your memories."

Something familiar washed over him. A memory. A horrible, vile memory. He didn't speak on it, and perished it. He sighed. "Hey... Sixer?"

"Yes, Stanley?"

"Can we... Fix him up a bit? If he was this bad, he... he already lost." He gestured to the one eyed triangle in the ground. "I know what he did. I understand why he was bad, but... Kid, no one deserves a tombstone like this."

"...kid? Stanley, I'm barely a kid, and that demon got what was coming to him." Ford's voice grew more heated the longer he spoke. "If you ask me, he deserves worse than what he got."

He sighed. He knew. He denied. He snapped. "Ford," He started, kneeling next to the abused statue. "How do you know if I'm even Stanley?"

Ford recoiled. "St- Stanley, what are you talking about?"

"How do you even know if it's Stanley in here?" He pointed to his head. "You erased Stanley. Stanley should be gone. Bill was the only other consciousness in this body, right?" He pulled a few vines off the statue. "What if I'm just some amnesiac demon possessing your brother?"

"Stanley, you are Stanley, you are my brother." He took out the old, sepia photo of them as children. "You remembered this. See? Bill was never there. This is all the proof we need."

"I don't- I can't remember anything other than hating and loving the kids, I remember working on a portal, Stanford! And I never remembered. Not properly!" He stared at the statue intensely, letting it jog his memory. "...I remember a dying dimension, Stanford. I remember having nothing but flat dreams, flat plans, the second dimension, Ford."

He was pried away from the statue, and pushed flat on his back. Ford stared at him, his glasses at an angle where he couldn't quite see Ford's eyes. "You aren't Bill, Stanley. I don't care what you think or what you feel. You are my brother! And I need to make things right!" Ford shouted, his voice raising a pitch.

He noticed a tear, dripping down Ford's face.

"...I need to do more than say thank you, Stanley." "You couldn't have been erased." Was unspoken.

He sighed. "Then say thanks to Stanley for me, Sixer. Because whoever I am, I'm not him." He got up and started walking towards the house.

"Yes you are, Stanley! You saved us! You saved everyone!" Ford was shouting now. Wow, he must've really cared about Stanley.

He walked. He wasn't Stanley. He wasn't Bill Cipher. He wasn't going to steal someone's identity. He was himself, and he had to find out who that was.

...

He stopped before he could get to far. An overwhelming need to protect his family washed over him. His body didn't care if it was legitimate or not, it must've been in his blood.

...

He needed to protect Ford. Suddenly, sailing around the world on the adventure of a lifetime couldn't hurt. It could be fun.

...

...

He went back to Ford.

Note 2/2: So... I hope that was good. :3. EZ-Dayz WattyFallers

I'm sorry this was kind of Borderline for the prompt.

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