Ford isn't consciously - or even really subconsciously - thinking about last October. Though he's paranoid like he had been last time the similarities don't go much deeper than that. Even so, it's not like he's forgotten. He has just, in his latest obsession with creating an anti-scrying charm, not had cause to actively think about it.

Than Dipper screams, and Ford can think of nothing else.

Instead of being shut up in his room he's out in the living room this time around, painstakingly abusing a soldering iron by using it to burn runes into a piece of wood. Both of them are forgotten the second that scream pierces the muddled silence of the Pines household. He jolts, shocked, then throws both of them down and dashes out of the room, half a dozen steps behind Stan. The sight of the bedroom door - or rather, that bedroom door - open wide has ice sliding through his veins.

He skitters to a stop behind Stan. He doesn't speak up or try to push past him, but he does rest a hand on his shoulder to steady himself while he peers inside. His thoughts are filled with blood and glass and hideous red moonlight streaming through the windows and the desperate hope that he won't need to go for the first aid kit again.