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As a general rule, humans don’t get along with demons, and demons dislike humans in return; they make deals out of mutual respect or hatred of the other. This rule certainly applied to Dipper as a child—on multiple occasions the same demon had: possessed his body, shot holes through his stomach, and tried to bring around the end of the world. What’s not to hate?!
But even when Dipper technically was one, the hatred towards demons remained.
The particular occasion that reinforced his revulsion began with Dipper resting in the mindscape. The recent news of Mabel’s pregnancy and his slow gaining of publicity in the corporeal world were swirling through his thoughts, when he felt the tug of a summoning—but this wasn’t just a tug, it was a sharp yank that forced him out of his thoughts as well as the mindscape itself, pulling him into the physical plane.
“Ẃ̻̟̥͖̹̘̮̳͙Ḩ̷͈̣͇͕̜̲O̵͓̙̝͚̟̝̜̕͢ ̶͈̠̥̕͡D̛͔͖AR̲̳̳̞͙̫̕͠E̶̻̪̣S͚̹͇͚ ̫̞͈̣̖͘͘͢S͏̰̱̰͖͖̺̮U̵̩ͅM͢͠M̸̺̫͎͟O̧̱ͅN͏͏̣̩̻͜ ̢͔̬͞A̡̧̜̥L̨̥̫̰̟̠͞C̹̙̣͖͘O̭͉̙͖̰̦̗̹͚R̦͜ͅ ̟̝̫̟̝͝͡͝T͓̺̖̝̰͡H̗̹̬̼̖̗̖̝̼E̤͉̤̤̲̯͜͝ ̶͚̪D̶̨͔̝̻͙͜R͎̤̙̫͙͍̙͠É̸̸͔͕̹̞̰̖A̸͕͓͝M̢͟ D̶̝̹͙̩̦͜E̟̖̣̺M̱̖̣͖͟O̮̭͕̺̯̱͟ͅN̻͎͞?” He announced this loudly and impressively to cover up his momentary muddle of being somewhere at one moment and being somewhere else the next.
Right after the words left his mouth it came to him that this was one of the bad cults. They were in a large basement made out of cement so it was absolutely freezing; the summoning circle was large and painted with what he sensed was sheep and goat blood; the candles were antique and hand-made. This cult did not kid around with their summonings—no wonder he hadn’t been able to escape its pull. (He’d have to work on that in the future.)
His eyes flickered down to the sacrifice, a young girl bleeding out of life at the rim of the summoning circle. She couldn’t have been older than six, curled up and not even sobbing for how near death she was. Two pools of crimson steadily grew like halos, around her tiny frame and her crown—head and heart.
And for some reason, it reminded Dipper of his future nieces and nephew.
He forced his gaze away from the girl, as if her importance was a mere flicker of the eyes to him.
“Oh, Alcor, it is we,” four of the cultists chanted in perfect unison. “Humbly, our cult invokes The Twin Star to do our will, command our wish, be granted with great power.”
Not even a mention of the girl. Dipper felt disgusted. Alcor grinned.
“W̍ͥ̒̂̐͊ͧ͝H̩̺͎͗ͪ̅ͪÁ̧͉̙̦̠͕͂T̍͆̔̎́ ̼̳̠̩̏̔I̻͉̟͢S̛̝̙͉͇̦̄̊̃ͣ̍̾ ̘̹͇͍͆̌̍̏̋I̴̓̈̚T̂͏͎͖̞͕ ̡ͅY͉͉̝̗̾ͪͥͫͮ̽͢O̱̙̯͚̻Ũ͖̬̠ͦ̋ͪ ̟͢Ẃ͈͉I̡̮͖̖̔̓̐̀͋̓͗S͔̲̻̩̥͚̾̈́͗̔͆͛̍͞H̥̜̻̙̠̲̝̓ͥ̑ ͖͕̬̱̹̟͉ͯ͐ͪ̑F̪̤̐̚O͙ͫ̐͂ͣ̕R̖̮͔͉̹̬͈ͤ͜?͕͗̈́ͬ͞” the demon demanded.
“Death to our enemies, Alcor,” The same four of the group whispered, until the rest of the cult picked up the chant. The demon waited until they finished.
“A̯͔̥̹̠̣͒̋̓Ṅ̛͓͎̱̩̖̯̈́D̠̘̯̦̮̃̽̔ ̺͛DͯE̮͎͍̟̠̅͂ͯ̔A͎͎T͎̙Ĥ̛̙̪ ̵̟̝͓͖̤͌ͨ̇͗T̗̞͒̔ͨ̾͋ͤO̗̖̐ ̡̙͉͕̼͙̰̻͑͋ͯ̒́̿͂Tͣ͑̐̏͟H̘͈̙̱̣͕̅̊̎ͨ͟Õ̱͙̰̊͆͆̆ͯ͑͟ͅS̱͓̬̘ͮ̐ͧ̕E̮̟̻̟̪͓̺̊ͩͯ͑ͨ̇̄͡ ̛̫̗̤̻͕́͐ͨͮ̅W̺͙̽ͦ̆ͩ̂͒̀̚H̸̳̿̆̅͆Ŏ̸̬̟͕ ̢̬͈̙̜̜̺͙ͯͧ̌͂̓̆̍W̡͇̰͖̽ͣR̘̞ͧ́̇̈́̈́́O͎̩̞̩͚͎͡N͓͎͍̫ͅG̵̠̩̙͖̝̻̥ͧͤ̉E̒̂̌̇̈́͗̿D͓̜̒̇ͪ̃̚ ̸̍Y͔̖͚͘O̺̝ͩ̃̊ͩͬ́̓͠U̹͚̹̣̖̦̮ ͕͍̦͖̭̱̠͊ͯͧḾ͉͊ͧ̓̂A̖̱̪ͥ̋T̝̠̥̭̳̐ͩT͖̽Ę͎̰̝R̻͓̼̞̃ͯͪͅ ͈͕̜̮̗͍̗͒ͣͣͨ̆ͬ̍M̠͙͎ͣ̚O̺ͪͪR͙̻̰̅ͭ͠E̍ͅ ̰̠̺̹͎̪̜̌͑ͧT̪̮̠̠͔̩̙̅̓ͭH̛̙̳̮̜̞͙̘ͧ̽͋̾ͧ̊͊A͙ͪ̈N̟̯ ̪̦̍̎̀͝T͈͕̱̙͓͍͈̋͢H̨̪̝Eͦ̏̀̈́̾ͬ̊ ͋͛̚͟L̥̹͕̬̩̲̓͘ͅIͩ̅̏F̣̗̰̻̫ͮ͛͒̐̂͑͂͟E̪͍̪̮͓ͪ͆̂͞ ̴̳O̩͚̬ͬͭ͒ͮͩF̺̠̬̑ͫ͠ ͫ̂ͤ͗̌̆҉͕͎̤A̡̲̼̺̺̪͗̈́ͮ̇ͤ̑̈́N̘̠̝̙̭͒̈ͤ̏͗̔ ̜͖͖̠͇̾Ĭ͚̼͙̝ͨ̌ͨ̚N̷Ṇ̋̈́͑̚O҉̗̰͖͓͚͉C̤͈͆͊͛ͪͮ̄ͬE̯̞͚̻̹̪͓ͮͯ͒ͩ͒͗͊N̷̲͇͈͇̜̞̘T̛̩͍̹̮̞̫ͅ?͙͕̙̓
̛̤͕̟̥̞̾͑̋́?̴͍͇̰̝̮ͦ͑͆̽̎” Dipper’s eyes felt black. His humanity struggled within him, but it felt as if it were being drowned by tendrils of grease by command of his demon side. This always happened at intense summonings; Dipper forced himself to stay in control.
As clearly the cult did not understand, he gestured the weak frame on the ground.
One muttered, “Sacrifices must be made in order to summon Alcor the legendary Dreambender.”
“T͉̰͓̤̼̋̿ͭ͂̈H͔̣̤̱̯̐̉̓͑ͪͣÈ̼̫̱͂͌̀̏̔N̜̗̐ͯ͌͆́ ̷̹͍̪ͨ̀ͥ̓ͨ̓W͈̄͛͐H̾A͓̪̲͙̥̮̻ͭ̐͊ͣ̉̋T̿̄͊ ̡̱̙̗͍͓͔̬̆͗ͧ͌͌̍D̆ͣ͐̐Ỏ̯̰̭ͯ̒ͭ͐ ̢͈̯͚̦̲͈́̔̅̾ͮY̩̘̦̘̪̽ͥͧ͌O̯̘ͣ̓̔ͭͩ͟Ụ̪̿ͩ͆͑ ̢͔̲̱͊O̡̰̮F̵̞͍͚̅̆ͦ͊̅ͣF͖̱̠ͨ̔ͥ͂͒ͅͅE̵̪͓̥̖͓͉̳ͤ̏R̠͐̑̓ͥ̉ ̠̮̪̖̪̻̤̽ͤ́ͦ̆̌ͫI̴͇̯̞͎̭͂͂̂͌̑N̐ͨ͛ ̷̖̟̠̟̳͔̎̏ͭ̔͆̆̐R͔͖̝̖͔͚͂͛͛̋ͬ̅ͅE͇̋̓ͨ̐͡T̲ͩ̾͠U̙̬̼̅̂̎ͮ̔͑̃̕ͅR̷͓̘̦͔̺̔N̠̞̻̜̯̩̭̏̇̍̓̌.” This was more of a statement than a question.
“Six years of life from each of us,” was the reply. A headcount announced that there were nine people in the cult—fifty-four years of life, memories, experience, and love was a lot.
“Ḍ̶̺̯̘̝͉̩̣͔̉̔ͯ̈̎̉ͨ͢E̪̣̪͎͎̘ͮ͂̔̎̏̂͐̿͟A̙̓̅͊ͪ̐ͭ͆ͯͮL̻͎̭̘͊̈́ͦ͐ͬ͘͜.”
There was no struggling or pain involved in the cult’s death. Plain and simple, they fell like flies out of the air, silently and lifeless.
“You brought this onto yourselves,” Dipper deadpanned to the bodies. “You should have known that the ones to bring you most harm would be yourselves, after trifling with me. ‘Death to our enemies’, I believe were your exact words.”
He turned away from the cult. His fingertips buzzed with power, but Dipper managed to supress the bloodlust urge of his demonic side. He wanted to leave badly, but his business was not yet finished.
Dipper floated down until he was kneeling beside the near-lifeless sacrifice.
“Hey.” He spoke to the young girl softly. “Please, I know you can hear me.”
She stirred, but Dipper stopped her with, “Shh… please, you don’t have to move or open your eyes. Just listen to me.
“I am a demon, and you are dying. I can save you, but only if you give me your soul. I know it’s scary, but come tomorrow morning this will have all been a bad nightmare, I promise. Here….” He found her hand, which was frighteningly cold. “Just squeeze my hand if you agree. You can do that, right? Squeeze my hand.”
The girl’s eyes opened into slits. For a moment Dipper had hope—but then her hand went limp in his hold.
The demon bowed his head. He had known she wouldn’t have done it; the rosary around her neck told him this.
So he left her broken body in the cold, black basement, along with the rest of the corpses.
Livid and miserable, Dipper returned to the mindscape. His mood had been utterly killed. He was so distracted with his thoughts that he almost missed the other demon lounging nearby.
“Hey,” greeted the other. Reclining backwards mid-air with his hands behind his head, wearing a rich sangria business suit with a crimson tie and spotless obsidian shoes, Dipper disliked him immediately—despite disliking all demons on sight.
“What do you want?” Dipper demanded, clearly stating in his tone that he was in a terrible mood and if the demon had any inch of decency he would go away. Unfortunately, this guy wasn’t intimidated.
“Nothing, really,” the demon replied, turning over into a standing position. Gloves the colour of red wine appeared from nowhere, hovering near his reach as he put them on. “Just happened to catch that thing you did to the cult down on Earth. Nice work with the word-twisting, I’m impressed.”
“Thank you,” Dipper impassively responded, obviously inviting the demon to leave—but he was obviously not taking the hint.
“Hey, no problem, Al.” Dipper’s fingers twitched. “But say, I was just wondering what the whole kill-everyone thing was for. Like, they had everything a demon looks for in a summoning: a reasonable demand, and a deal that obviously benefits you more than them—fifty-four years of life, man! Not to mention a child sacrifice, which is basically the best kind of sacrifice—”
Dipper teleported out of there. He was already psychologically drained, and didn’t want to hear any more of that demon’s nonsense. Obviously he wouldn’t understand if he tried to explain either passively or aggressively.
He found himself hovering three feet above the black-and-white version of a New York City sidewalk, (void of humans, of course). The purple demon popped into existence beside him, mocking a bewildered, apologetic attitude.
“Hey, man, sorry if I offended you, somehow. Let’s start over. I’m Halley—like the comet.” He extended a hand to shake. Dipper ignored it.
“Listen, Halley,” Dipper began, allowing some danger blaze in his eyes, “I’m really not in the mood for—”
“Okay, dude, we don’t have to talk about summonings anymore. To tell the truth, I don’t like to talk about them much either—like, it’s the same thing for every demon.” Halley reclined again. “So, small talk. Give me a small-talk question.”
Dipper teleported again, somewhere above an expansive pine-tree forest, but Halley came right along. “So, correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re the guy who was originally a human, am I right?”
“Yes,” began Dipper. “I was originally human—does that make me any weaker than you?”
Halley held up his arms defensively. “Whoa, man, come on. No way. I was actually headed in the opposite direction; humans-turned-demons are generally more powerful than the rest of us guys. I was going for a compliment.”
Dipper froze at a simple remark Halley had revealed, probably without realizing it. “Wait—humans-turned-demons… there are other demons like me?” The question tasted odd in his mouth. He had naturally assumed he was the only of his kind, seeing how his circumstances had been so odd and rare—
“’Course,” Halley replied, leaning back and folding his arms. A cane appeared in his hands, and he boringly toyed with it as he spoke. “There was one other guy, I believe, who fused with some demon in a powerful-summoning-gone-wrong, dated back around a thousand and some years ago. Name was something like Cal, or Hal, or—I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter anyway.”
“What happened to him?” continued Dipper agitatedly, his thoughts spinning. “He’s still around, isn’t he?”
Halley threw his head back and laughed. His cane disappeared once more, as if he had already worn out its entertainment. “Sorry, but no. After half a century the dude went insane with his crazy power. Think he destroyed something like three cities just to do something with his energy, killing everyone. It was hilarious to watch—you should have seen it!” He chuckled, picking at the ends of his sleeves. “After a while the rest of us demons had to stop him so he wouldn’t kill off the entire human race—banishment to some faraway star, I think it was. Hey, Al—you doin’ okay?”
Dipper silently teleported elsewhere.