Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue: Part 1

It was near the end of March, on a rainy dreary day, when Dipper and Mabel decided to break the news to their parents. Five years ago, Dipper and Mabel made their first trip to the quaint, supernatural town of Gravity Falls. Ever since that trip, Dipper and Mabel would return for the summer. It was routine, but year after year, the twins found themselves building a better life in Gravity Falls than they ever had in Piedmont, California. Gravity Falls was no longer a second home, it was their home, and every season they had to spend away was growing more and more heartsick. Dipper and Mabel were seventeen now, and by the end of that summer, they’d be “adults”. A daunting event, but Dipper and Mabel had such a future envisioned in their minds they couldn’t help but be excited. There was only one problem, though, and that was that in all their dreams, neither Dipper nor Mabel could see their future anywhere but Gravity Falls. Years ago, they had agreed amongst themselves that the moment they turned eighteen, they’d permanently make their stay in Gravity Falls. It was perfect, all their dreams ready to come true in Gravity Falls. Simple, right?

Except, no, it’s not simple at all, unfortunately. If it was really so simple, there would be no fear. If it was really so simple, then there would be no nail-biting, heart-racing, mind-numbing anxiety that shook the Pines twins’ so deep. It wasn’t simple at all.

It wasn't really about moving to Gravity Falls. It was about telling the loving Mr. and Mrs. Pines that their children, whom they’ve nurtured and cared for, fed and cleaned, raised and loved, would never be coming back.

What kind of monster would ever do something like that?

Dipper Pines anxiously paced around his room, biting a pen while staring hard at the floor. Next to him, Mabel Pines sat rocking on the bed, stroking a small pink lizard plushie. Mabel’s eyes glazed around the room, searching for a subject of focus that wouldn’t let her mind fester too much. Dipper, on the other hand, kept his gaze strictly on the floor. Dipper’s room was a faintly organized mess. Papers, notebooks, journals, books, and chewed broken pens scattering every visible and non-visible surface in the room. Lining nearly every inch of wall were sticky notes, papers, photos, maps, and graphs all connected with red string. Dipper sweated, rubbing his temple. His mind was spiraling in too many directions at once, giving him a massive headache.

"This is going to break their hearts." Mabel made a small squeaking noise. Dipper flinched. The only thought in his mind that was made abundantly clear, was that this interaction was going to go very poorly.

Dipper's stomach churned. In the back of his mouth he could taste the upcoming sour of half-digested food and stomach acid. Mabel seemed to be having a similar experience, from the unfamiliar look of strained bitterness she held on her face. Dipper’s tastebuds were soon agitated by another unpleasant stimuli, when his pen suddenly broke in his mouth, spilling blue ink in his mouth and all over his face.

Dipper spat out the pen, groaning and trying to spit out the ink plaguing his sense of taste. He glared at the pen in his hand, I really need to stop chewing my pens, he thought. It was a miracle he hadn’t yet had to go to the hospital from accidentally swallowing so much ink.

"I can't do this!" Dipper shouted, throwing his hands up in defeat. "We can't do this. We can't tell them."

"If we don't tell them, we won't get to move to Gravity Falls," Mabel wallowed, shoving her face into the plushie, "But if we do tell them, they'll feel super betrayed, and probably stop loving us." Mabel said that last part quietly.

Dipper froze, a concerned expression creeping on his face.

"They won't… they wouldn't stop loving us…" Dipper stated, startled by the amount of uncertainty in his tone. That's not actually a legitimate question, is it?

"Mabel!?"

"Mabel isn't here right now. She's in sweater town." Mabel flopped over on the bed, lying down and pulling her sweater over her head.

Dipper' s shoulders slumped. He looked at his sister with pity. Mabel was a feelings-type person. She thought with her heart, not her head. Dipper took a deep breath and sat down next to his sister.

“Everything will be okay,” Dipper said, nudging Mabel.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Mabel’s muffled voice was barely audible through her thick sweater covering her face. Dipper bit his lip. She was right. He knew for a fact that everything was most certainly not going to be okay. In all honesty, Dipper was terrified of having to face his parents, of telling them he was leaving for good. No matter what direction Dipper thought of, it would always end in disaster… but the last thing he wanted was to make Mabel feel worse.

Dipper jumped at the sound of a sigh. Mabel sat up, pulling herself out of her sweater, staring at the floor through tear-blurred vision.

“I just know they’ll be so disappointed.” Mabel’s words came out heavy; a deep pit being dug in her stomach.

“You’re right,” Dipper choked out, turning away from Mabel. Then, putting on a brave smile, he turned back towards his sister, “but they’ll get over it.”

Mabel looked up at Dipper through a pained expression. Scouring his face, Mabel could immediately tell Dipper was trying really hard to seem strong for her. Mabel stood up.

“Well,” Mabel pulled her lips into a smile, “It’s now or never. Are you ready?”

“Nope,” Dipper laughed, “let’s do it.”

∆∆∆

Steam slowly arose from two hot cups of tea sitting quietly on the table in between two chairs in the Pines family living room. Adorning the wall, was a lovely family photo, taken eight years ago. Under the photo, a flickering fireplace warmed the room. Adjacent from the fireplace, two large cobalt leather chairs sat next to each other with a small coffee table between them; Mr. and Mrs. Pines seats. Across the room, a blue two-seat couch for the twins. The hardwood of the floor was decorated by a soft round blue carpet. Decorating the walls, lined plenty of family pictures, none of which were younger than five years.

Hearts pounding, palms sweating, and minds littered with the worst of possibilities, Mabel and Dipper quietly made their way downstairs to the living room. Dipper held Mabel's hand reassuringly as they sat down on the couch and waited on their parents. Around five minutes passed, waiting; five minutes of constant tapping fingers, never ending worries, eyes neurotically flicking around the room, shaking, and plenty of 'hey-maybe-we-shouldn't-do-this-after-all?'s running through their heads.

By the time Mr. and Mrs. Pines arrived in the living room, Dipper had already lost every ounce of confidence he had mustered up for this conversation, and was perfectly ready to turn around, go back to his room, and forget this ever happened. He honestly wasn't even sure if he was holding Mabel's hand to comfort her or himself. Mabel, however, had taken the time to prepare herself, and actually began to feel almost ready. Almost.

"Well, what was it you two needed to talk to us about?" Mr. Pines sat in his chair next to Mrs. Pines'. "You said it was something about this year's Summer trip, right?"

Dipper squeezed Mabel's hand. His head felt light. Was he going to pass out? No, no, he's fine. Are we sure? Yes… Absolutely not. Mabel simply nodded and glanced at Dipper. Dipper felt beads of sweat racing down his face.

"Well… as you know, we've been visiting Gravity Falls every Summer for years now… and by this point, it's practically like a second home to us." Mabel stared at her hands, face reddening. Deep breaths, deep breaths, she told herself. Her mind felt like it had gone numb, no thoughts, just heavy static.

Dipper nodded along to Mabel's words. "We really love it there, and… well, we've had this plan for a while now, but…" Dipper racked his mind for the right words to say.

"We'd really like to live there." Mabel blurted. "Permanently, I mean."

Silence pressed on the living room. The air suddenly felt thick, like trying to breathe in curdled milk. Mabel trembled slightly. Mr. Pines, mid-sip of tea, stopped. His dark gaze lifted from his cup and onto his children. His eyes suddenly seemed irrevocably hollow.

“What?”

Dipper took a deep breath. "Listen, I know it's a lot… moving to Oregon is a big deal, but…"

"Dipper." Mr. Pines interrupted, closing his eyes. "You don't want to do this."

Dipper's lip trembled, he glanced down. He stared at his shaking hands. "We really love it there, you know? It's a really good place, and the people are really nice and–"

"Dipper" Mr. Pines’ voice came out harder, angrier, “You don’t want to do this.”

"But–" Mabel went to say something, but was cut off.

“Enough!” Mr. Pines shouted, silencing Mabel. “I have heard enough. This conversation is over.”

Dipper stood up. “Look, if you’ll just listen—“

“SIT DOWN!” Mr. Pines screamed.

Dipper flinched, then froze; trembling, touching each of his fingers to his palm. Hesitation. Finally, he sat down.

"I can't believe this," Mr. Pines stood up from his chair, pacing around the living room. "After years of taking care of you, feeding you, clothing you, housing you, and all of a sudden, you're too good for it. Is that right?”

The twins froze. Was this a question they were supposed to answer?

“IS THAT RIGHT?!”

“NO!” Mabel shouted, clenching her fists, “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it then? Hm? Go on, tell us, what is it? WHAT IS IT?!”

Mabel bit her lip, on the verge of tears, Dipper squeezed her hand.

Mr. Pines rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t you dare start this again. I’ve had it with your faked-up water works!”

Mabel clenched her fists, and said through gritted teeth, “They’re not fake.”

Mr. Pines scoffed.

Still sitting in her chair, Mrs. Pines glared at the cup of tea in her hands, silently.

"I just don't understand," Mrs. Pines' voice cracked, and her eyes teared up as she spoke, "After all we've done for you, you want to move all the way to– to– Oregon?"

“Mom, please—“ Mabel pleaded.

Their mother turned away. “I just can’t believe you would betray us like this… Did we do something wrong? Were we not good enough?”

“Mom… no,” Mabel’s eyes carried a deep pleading, a deep pleading to be heard. Dipper, feeling the same yet so afraid of letting it show, stared stoneface at the stained carpet.

Mr. Pines grumbled. "Oh look, now, see what you did? You've gone and made your mother cry." His face was getting red.

Dipper could feel his heart twist in his chest. It felt almost empty, like someone had dug a hole in his heart and left it there. Mabel was violently shaking, her eyes burning as she clenched them shut to block the tears from fully forming. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't cry in front of them.

Mrs. Pines, however, was sobbing into her hands. "I can't believe you would do this to us. I can't believe you would just leave and– and– abandon your own family."

"NO!" Dipper cried, standing up again, feeling the full force of his emotions coming crashing down. "No! It's not like that! You don't understand, Gravity Falls is our—”

"ENOUGH ABOUT GRAVITY FALLS!"

Dipper and Mabel both flinched at the veracity of their mother's voice. They were used to their father screaming like that when he was upset, but their mother? She almost never screamed at them. Dipper felt a lump in his throat the size of a baseball. This time, it was their mother’s turn to stand up.

"We loved you, we raised you, we gave you our whole lives just for you to run off seven hundred miles away from us!" Mrs. Pines yelled.

"We love it there!" Mabel defended.

"More than your family!?" Mrs. Pines violently turned towards the twins, hard gaze quickly moving from one to the other.

"No!" Mabel was quick to answer, her stomach twisting slightly as she said the words. "It's not like that, we just–"

"You know what!?" Mr. Pines yelled, turning to Dipper and Mabel. "I don't ever want to hear about Gravity Falls ever again. You know why? 'Cause neither one of you are ever stepping foot there ever again!"

…

Mabel and Dipper both sat breathless and teary eyed, unable to speak. For a few, long drawn out moments, the only sound that could be heard was the faint flickering of the fireplace, and the trembling breaths of the family. Dipper’s mind was spinning, close to collapsing, the entire world felt unreal, like an illusion. Mabel’s mind was unbearably quiet. Everything was falling apart around her, and she herself felt not real. On the verge of self-destruction, Mabel finally forced herself to turn around and head back to her own room. Following her lead, Dipper went to his room. Left alone, Mr. and Mrs. Pines were left to dwell.

∆∆∆

Exhausted, Mabel curled up into a ball in her bed. Feeling the pressure of withheld tears in her eyes, Mabel allowed her feelings to finally release, and she soon found herself sobbing into the pink masses of her pillows.

Mabel’s room was a bright pink color, shelves lined the walls showcasing a plethora of stuffed animals. In the corner was a desk, which was mostly covered in glitter, drawings, clay, and other arts and crafts. In another corner, was a mannequin with an unfinished dress on it. Everything in the room was in bright, highly saturated colors, or vibrant pastels.

Mabel lay in bed, hopeless; mentally reprimanding herself for being so foolish. She knew the talk with their parents wouldn’t go well. She knew it would end in disaster. She knew that she’d only break their hearts… and she kept going anyway. This was a doomed endeavor from the beginning.

So why? Why did she think for even a moment that maybe it wasn’t ? Why did she think they could really do this? Why did she ever hope to believe they could move to Gravity Falls and be happy living their dreams there? Mabel wiped her tears away, and laid down on her bed. She felt stupid. Childish, she thought. Eyes bloodshot, she could feel them burning as she closed them to hopefully sleep off the night.

After a few minutes of broken breaths, tossing and turning, and feeling the weight of her problems slowly crush her, Mabel finally felt her nerves soften as she drifted off to sleep. Inside her mind, Mabel happily awaited a dream to help her escape from reality. The next time Mabel opened her eyes, it was significantly later.

The sound of rapid shuffling around woke Mabel. Tired, Mabel creaked open her eyes. Dipper was frantically grabbing her belongings and shoving them into a bag. Sitting up, Mabel rubbed her eyes lazily.

“Dipper, what are you doing? What time is it?” Mabel looked over at the clock. 1:58 AM. Mabel’s eyes widened. In a whisper-shout voice, she turned to Dipper and said, “Dipper! What the hell? It’s like two in the morning, what are you doing?”

"Get up. Pack your stuff. We're leaving." Dipper said each sentence quickly, in a flat tone, not turning to look at Mabel as he spoke.

Mabel froze. What? Mabel waited for Dipper to say something else, something that actually made sense. When he didn't elaborate, Mabel actually began to consider that he was being completely serious. She had to blink a few times to get it through her head.

"Dipper, what are you talking about? Where are we going?" Mabel sat up, staring at Dipper, who was stuffing as much of Mabel's things into a bag.

"Where do you think?" Dipper turned to her. The realization suddenly dawned on Mabel.

"Dipper, we can't!" Mabel scrambled out of bed, frantic.

"Why not?" Dipper turned to her, finally putting down the bag he was holding. "We have money, we have a car. What's stopping us from packing up and moving to Gravity Falls right now?"

Mabel was speechless. Dipper had never been this impulsive. Her head was spinning. Dipper grabbed Mabel's hands.

"Think about it, Mabel. We could leave; we could leave and never come back. We could live our dreams in Gravity Falls and never have to worry about this place again." Dipper's eyes were pleading. Mabel stuttered, unsure of what to say.

"What— What about our parents?"

Dipper’s face fell, and he pulled away. He stared at the floor for a long time, with an unmistakably pained expression on his face. Mabel worried what could be going through his head.

"Mabel," he began, his voice suddenly soft, "They'll never let us see Gravity Falls again."

Mabel paused. Her heart was beating in her head louder than a bass drum. Surely, Dipper has a plan. There's no way he'd really make such an impulsive decision out of nowhere. Mabel stared directly into Dipper's eyes. She felt afraid. She nodded her head.

"Okay."

Dipper gave an empty smile, and handed Mabel her bag. He snuck out the door, quiet so their parents wouldn't wake up and catch them. Mabel, left alone in the dark of her room, picked up her pink kitten bag and began filling it with everything she needed.

∆∆∆

Waiting outside, Dipper paced the front lawn, waiting for Mabel. His mind felt like it was melting from how fast his thoughts were going. Looking in the car, Dipper checked, for possibly the thirty-eighth time, to make sure he got everything they needed. He had never run away from home before. Well, if he didn't count the time when he was eight, when he got in a fight with Mabel and said he was running away, but really just walked to the end of the driveway and came back.

The front door clicked open and shut again. Dipper turned towards the noise. Mabel, carrying her suitcases and other bags, stood at the door with a nervous expression on her face.

Trodding up to the car, Mabel gave a weak smile for Dipper. Dipper returned it. It was then that he realized, though, how puffy and pink Mabel's eyes looked. Dipper bit his lip, he had no idea what to say. He wasn't good at emotions… he was good at puzzles, and solving mysteries… but feelings? That was Mabel's territory… right alongside knitting and scrapbooking. Dipper was clueless about emotions, even his own, sometimes.

"Hey," Dipper placed a hand on Mabel's shoulder, "I'm here for you. You know that right?"

Mabel turned towards Dipper. Her big green eyes swelling with tears. Not thinking, Mabel flung herself into Dipper's arms. Dipper jumped, but quickly returned the hug.

A few minutes of loading up everything, and Dipper and Mabel were ready to go. Except, well, no they weren't.

Dipper and Mabel sat in the car, idle. Dipper stared at the wheel, at the gas pedal, at the car key in his hand waiting to be turned in the ignition. He closed his eyes, and turned to Mabel.

"Are you ready?" He asked, quietly. He couldn't even hide his tiredness. He could feel the slight push of hot tears threatening to burst out of his eyes. He held them in. Dipper cleared his throat and repeated, "Are you ready?”

Mabel turned to him, looking him dead in the eyes. Her lip trembled, and her eyes glistened with tears. She looked terrified, yet despite her fearful expression, there was something so determined in her eyes, something that had a resolution to do one thing and nothing would stop it.

"No," she finally said, "Let's do it."

Dipper smiled at her.

"Let's go home."

Chapter Text

Prologue: Part 2

Bill Cipher was a man of many crimes. He's erased an entire dimension from existence. He's murdered thousands of millions. He's led multiple dimensions to their apocalypse. He's committed nearly every crime known and unknown to man.

Surely, he deserves to die, doesn't he?

After Weirdmageddon, and Bill had invoked the Axolotl's name to save himself from Stan's burning mind, he was taken into custody of interdimensional law enforcement, and tried in the Supreme Court of Immortal Justice.

"William Cipher DCLXVI, as punishment for your countless crimes throughout the multiverse, all of your magical ability will be revoked."

It might seem like a light punishment; any sane person would agree that Bill should be killed for what he's done. Unfortunately, for everyone involved, Bill couldn't die. Bill knew that if it weren't for the fact that he was immortal, he would have surely been given the death sentence. Even his own brother had urged that they should at least try to kill him during the court trial. Then again, "family" hadn't meant much for Ciphers in quite a while.

The Supreme Court of Immortal Justice, or SCIJ, was built to find creative ways to punish immortal criminals. Obviously, immortals can't die, so no death sentence, and they lived forever, so any amount of time imprisoned would simply be a blink in the face of their eternal lives. So, as a solution to the conundrum of immortal criminals, the SCIJ lived on the idea that anyone could be redeemed. The thought would've made Bill laugh.

Now, Bill sat alone, whistling an eerie tune in a dust filled holding cell. The air smelled of smoke and alcohol. Bill felt his face twitch at the unpleasant smell. It was putting a terrible aching in his head. Alcohol he could bear, but smoke? Nothing was worse than the smell of smoke.

The cell was empty, aside from a falling apart stone bed which would have made better purpose as decoration in a junkyard. It was ugly. The whole room was hideous. Bill looked perfectly in place in the cell, too. Hair having grown uneven down to his ankles, face covered in dirt and grime, the old blood-stained straitjacket he was forced to wear, and the stupid cramped wheelchair they had put him in, all made for a pretty pathetic picture of a once all-powerful demon. Bill tilted his head back, resting it on the cold hard wall of the cell. Well, if you could call that resting. The wall was cold and damp, and the surface was rough.

Bill was in a different body, a body he hadn't seen in quite a while. It was actually his original physical body, but he hadn't used it since… since… Bill shuddered. It wasn't a pleasant memory. In order to completely take away his power, the court had to bind him to a physical body. It slightly resembled a human, but you couldn't mistake it for such; the eyes were too big, and the ears were long and pointy. It felt strange being back in his old body; the one he hated for how small he felt in it. His physical body was weak and frail. His astrally projected form, the one he had used to visit Gravity Falls, was much more versatile even if it limited his control over the physical world.

A sharp clicking sounded through the hall outside Bill's cell. Bill looked up, stopped whistling, and postured himself up. Footsteps.

"I have to say, I don't understand how anyone would willingly make themself responsible for that." Bill recognized the voice as the guard who held the keys to his cell. A gross sweaty mortal who smelled like his species hadn't yet discovered bathing.

"Don't call him a 'that', he has a name. Besides, what I'm willing to take responsibility for is none of your concern."

The posh accent of a young man echoed in Bill’s head just the same way as his own voice used to do to others. Thaddeus Strange. Tad, as he insisted on being called. An odd character; Bill had known him since he was small. (A very, very, long time) Bill couldn’t remember much of his childhood. The memories of his past usually came and went in peculiar waves of realization. Bill remembered a few things.

He remembered that Tad was kind.

Due to his instability, and– well, a lot of reasons really, Bill was to be remanded to the care of his parents after his punishment was decided. Technically, Tad was Bill’s legal guardian, as he had adopted him after the… uhh… incident.

Bill, finding himself disgusted at agreeing with the guard, could not understand for the life of him why Tad would do such a thing. Tad was many things: overly optimistic, far too forgiving, and more socially inept than you’d guess for being so completely extroverted. Tad wasn’t stupid though… Naive? Maybe, but not stupid. Knowing secrets was one of Bill’s greatest gifts, but the secret as to why Tad seemed to like him so much will forever remain a great mystery of the universe.

The sound of Tad's steps continued closer. Bill found himself leaning closer. As Tad rounded the corner, Bill felt his face twitch as the familiar face came into his view. Tad had sharp features, but his face remained warm and homely despite. His hair was indigo purple, and he always wore the exact same derby hat every time Bill saw him. He had purple goat's eyes, one of which was covered by a black square eye patch. He wore a purple nineteen-twenties-esce suit with black slacks and a black tie. Peeking out from his polished dress shoes, Bill noticed Tad was wearing mismatched socks. One was purple with thick horizontal yellow stripes, and the other was blue with vertical purple pinstripes. In his left hand, Tad carried a simple black umbrella. Bill remembered the umbrella; Tad carried it everywhere, using it as a parasol.

As Tad peered into the dark cell, his face softened, and he held a calm, almost motherly, smile. Bill felt his body tense, though he wasn’t sure why. What would Tad think of me now? Not that Bill cared, he didn’t care what anyone thought of him… he was just curious. The guard fiddled with his keys, making an excessive amount of noise, before finally finding the right one and opening the cell door. Tad stepped in the room, slowly walking closer. He knelt down in front of Bill.

"Hi there, it's been quite a long time, hasn't it? Do you remember me? How're you feeling?" Tad's tone was calm. There was no hidden anger or disappointment in his words. He was just being the same person Bill had always known him to be. Kind.

Bill stared blankly at Tad, eyes unfocused, almost looking straight through him. Bill's expression was empty. Deep inside him, he could feel a deep pit being dug. Bill didn't say anything. He wouldn't say anything. Tad exhaled.

"It's alright, I know you're tired. Don't worry, just a few more minutes, and we can go home. There's a few things we need to get done first, but don't worry, I'll keep you company." Once again, there was no hidden resentment in his voice. Bill’s chest tightened.

Bill still didn't say anything. Tad had always treated him like a child. Bill looked at him, tiredness evident in his visible eye. For the longest time, Bill had put on a face of undeniable, sadistic joy. A way of at least pretending he wasn't completely hollow; but pretending gets tiring. Tad smiled at him, as if nothing had changed since the last time they saw each other. As if Bill weren't a literal war criminal.

It was a habit of Tad's to do this, Bill remembered. After Bill as a child would come home bloody and bruised from fights, Tad still hung out with him like he used to. After Bill would lose control over his abilities and accidentally hurt someone, Tad still joked with him like he always did. After Bill's family had declared him insane and locked him up, Tad still played with him like he always did. After Bill would throw his tantrums, ripping off wallpaper and breaking his cane, Tad still laughed with him like he always did. Even after Bill had destroyed their home dimension, killed nearly everyone they knew, broke everything they loved, burned every last place they used to love... Tad had still talked to him like he had every other day of his life.

Tad was the most important person in Bill's life. Tad was the last bit of "family" Bill had. Tad was the one person throughout the entire multiverse that made Bill almost wish he wasn't the way he was. That made Bill wish he could love others the way Tad loved everyone and everything. That made him wish he was different.

For this one small moment, Bill was glad the world had hardened him the way it had. If he weren’t so distant… if he weren’t so disconnected… Bill wasn’t quite sure what he’d be feeling at that moment. Can’t break what’s been broken for thirty-trillion years!

Tad turned to the guard and left the cell. They were discussing something, Bill couldn't hear what they said though. The sounds of screaming and crackling fire that blazed in Bill's head louder than any outside noise. Haha.

Bill really hated the smell of smoke.

A few minutes passed, and Tad came back, and wheeled Bill out of his cell. Looking around, Bill thought the place was an uncharacteristically ordinary police station, considering it was sitting on a rock in the middle of space. It was small and cramped, and Bill wondered for a while why the SCIJ thought this was the best place to hold him until Tad arrived. While Tad filled out paperwork, leaving Bill’s mind to wander. Unfortunately, letting his mind wander was one of Bill's least favorite activities, so instead he focused all his energy into counting the specks of dust on the floor.

Once Tad was finished, they exited the building. Bill took a deep breath as the cold harsh air hit his face. Other than the sudden drop off into space, the outside of the police station was just as generic as the inside. It was a regular parking lot, with only one car parked in it. A flashy, bright purple nineteen-fifties convertible. Bill assumed it was Tad's. Not only was it the only car there, but Bill couldn't imagine anyone else driving such a hideous car.

He was proven correct when Tad put his keys (also purple) in the ignition and started the car. Tad helped Bill into the car and put his wheelchair in the back.

Bill slumped in his seat. He was tired. He was always tired. Tad sat next to him in the driver's seat and in just a few seconds, they were driving off into space. Bill looked up. The sky was beautiful. Stars burned bright and nebulas shined into a gorgeous symphony of colors. Bill almost forgot to breathe. He loved Earth and all its fantastic weirdness, but he almost forgot how beautiful outer space was.

It wasn't long before their car passed through a portal, and suddenly, they were on an ordinary dirt road surrounded by trees. It was the middle of the night. Bill grimaced, and looked down. He glanced over to Tad, who was happily humming to himself. Bill couldn't understand how he acted so normal around him. They drove in complete silence until…

"Why do you still treat me like a child?" Bill asked.

It has been on his mind for a while. It frustrated him. It was one thing back when they were young and he was a nobody. Bill wasn't the same as he was back then. He was dangerous. He had a reputation. He was the all-powerful Bill Cipher, but Tad acted like he was still just a disturbed little kid.

Tad paused. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Listen, I understand you've spent a lot of time on Earth… with mortals whose futile lifespans seem practically inconsequential to yours. I'm sure they've convinced you you're ancient. In human years I suppose you are… but you aren't human. You are a demon… and by demon years, you're still just a kid. Thus, you will be treated as such."

Bill stared at Tad for a moment, unblinkingly. He looked down. He hadn't been sure what exactly he wanted Tad to say. He supposed that he thought that Tad had been treating him like this unconsciously, and after Bill pointed it out he would laugh at how silly he was being and start treating him like an adult. He was wrong though. It's not like Bill didn't know how old he was, it's just… Bill's thoughts tapered off. He felt like he'd been alive so long, maybe it just almost seemed silly that he'd still be considered a child, even though technically he still was.

They finally arrived at Tad's house. It was exceptionally boring to look at. It completely contrasted everything Bill knew about Tad. The walls were a simple plain white, the house had an ordinary door painted a dark blue; the same color as the roof tiles. The front porch was weirdly clean. Actually the whole house was weirdly clean. Probably the most interesting thing about the house was how well it was kept.

"I hope you don't mind the late hour," Tad unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, quickly rushing to the back to get Bill's wheelchair. "I have a bit of a reputation in this town. When I first came here, I didn't want to out myself as a demon, so I constructed a bit of an "alter ego" based on everything I knew of human behavior to fit in with the locals."

Bill stared at the house, then looked around at the surrounding area. Realization hit him.

"We're in Gravity Falls."

"Ah," Tad said, "Yes… After you ran away, I spent quite a lot of time trying to find you. You know, despite your enormous infamacy, you are very hard to find." Tad laughed, although he didn't really seem to find it very amusing. He went on, "I heard you liked to visit this place often. I moved here in hopes to find you… look after you. I hadn't expected the next time I saw you would be when you started the apocalypse." Once again, Tad laughed, not really finding it funny.

Bill grimaced. Had Tad really been there the whole time? Bill wondered how many times Bill had seen Tad in human disguise and just… didn't recognize him. Bill looked down. Tad cared about him. He was the only one in the entire multiverse who actually cared about him… and Bill couldn't even do him the favor of trying not to kill him.

Tad helped Bill out of the car, and into his wheelchair. Bill really hated being stuck in that thing, he didn't need it, and it only made him feel more pathetic than he already was. Tad wheeled Bill over to the front porch, stopping at the front steps.

"Oh dear, we really need to get you a ramp." Tad stared at the steps in frustration. "Well, no one's around right now, so…" Tad waved his hand and the wheelchair began to float up the steps and onto the porch.

"You know, if you would let me out of this stupid hug-jacket and just give me my cane, you wouldn't have to do anything. I could easily get up the stairs myself." Bill rolled his eyes. Tad just stared at Bill for a moment.

"Hug jacket? William, that's adorable," Tad gushed and unlocked the front door. "Now, let me show you around."

Bill was annoyed about Tad brushing off what he said, but he supposed it couldn't be helped. Bill didn't need a wheelchair, but he did need a cane, and until he could take off the straitjacket he legally needed to wear, he couldn't use it. Tad pushed Bill around the house, showing him all of the rooms. There was a staircase leading to an upper floor, but Tad wasn’t going to use his magic to float Bill up there just to show him around.

After showing him every other room in the house, Tad finally brought Bill to his new bedroom. The room wasn't big, but it wasn't small either. The walls were yellow, with tiny black triangles dotted in a repeating pattern. The floor was hardwood, but most of the middle of the room was covered by a round yellow carpet with Bill’s emblem on it. Bill's bed had yellow pillows with light brown triangles on the edges, and the blanket was the same color and pattern with the addition of a brick pattern with a big eye in the middle. Lining one wall were two bookshelves and a desk. In the corner was a singular triangular suitcase, on another wall was a wardrobe and vanity, and on the back wall opposite to the door was a large window with a dresser underneath it.

"This will be your room," Tad said, although Bill felt it was a little unnecessary considering Tad practically painted his face on the walls. "All your stuff has already been unpacked. I know it's not much considering you can't walk… or move your arms… but I thought it might be a small comfort to you to have your things. We couldn't fit your piano in the room, unfortunately, but I'm going to put it in the living room once I clear the space."

Bill simply nodded. Tad hummed.

"Alright, I get it. You're tired. Well, I won't keep you up much longer." Tad bent over and picked Bill up, carrying him over to his bed and setting him down. "Goodnight, William."

Tad left the room, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind him. Bill was thankful. His body felt heavy, and for the first time in millennia, he genuinely felt like he could pass out. Having spent so long as an astral projection, Bill forgot what it was actually like to feel tired.

Unfortunately for him, his work wasn't done yet. Against his exhausted body's will, Bill sat up in bed, ignoring the way his muscles screamed at him to lie back down. Bill began wiggling himself out of his straitjacket. Bill had been in many straitjackets throughout his lifetime, and although it took him a few minutes to do it, he could easily shimmy himself out of one. Once escaped, Bill began searching his room for his cane. He was not going to be stuck in a wheelchair for any longer than he needed to be. Finding it sitting in his wardrobe, Bill stood up, proud. Quietly, Bill made his way over to the window and opened it. Feeling the cold outside air hit his face, Bill took a deep breath. The air smelled of pine and rain.

Time to catch an axolotl.

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Part 1

Dipper stood just outside the door at an old run-down gas station, his phone ringing in his hands. Mabel was inside getting them food. Dipper stared at the screen, exhausted. It was their parents, of course. Dipper and Mabel's phones both had been ringing all morning. Neither Dipper nor Mabel had answered a single call, they didn't even press ignore to make the phone stop ringing. Each time one of their phones started ringing again, they both just left it until it stopped on its own. Dipper sighed and put his phone in his pocket. He stared at the ground. Every inch of this place was covered in dirt and grime, and it smelled like gasoline. Well, Dipper thought, I suppose that second part can't be helped, considering it's a gas station.

Dipper leaned back against a dirty wall. The sky was gray, barely any sunlight pierced the thick cumulous that stretched across the sky as far as the eye could see. Dipper took off his jacket. It wasn't hot, actually it was pretty cold, but the humidity made wearing a jacket unbearable.

Mabel came out, carrying a single plastic bag. Giving a nervous smile, Mabel stepped over and pulled out a greasy bag and two drinks. Mabel got them both burritos. Dipper nodded sadly, glad to have something to eat. Neither of them had eaten dinner the night before, and they had been driving for six straight hours. Dipper and Mabel had taken turns driving so they could get some sleep, but Dipper was a chronic insomniac, and Mabel never could sleep in a car. It was safe to say they were both running on dangerous levels of exhaustion.

Dipper yawned and took a bite. For the next few minutes, he and Mabel ate in silence. Did they even have anything to talk about? They ran away from home… What do you even say about that? Dipper and Mabel continued their silence even after finishing their food. They both just continued staring at the wet concrete, either everything on their minds, or nothing at all. It was hard to tell the difference between those sometimes.

"Mom and Dad call again?" Mabel asked, not looking at Dipper when she spoke. Once again, she found that faint buzzing sound to be the only internal monologue of her mind.

Dipper nodded, drained.

"Yeah, I thought so." Mabel took another bite. As if there'd be any other answer. "We've still got a few hours of driving, don't we?"

Dipper nodded again. He felt ready to collapse. It was honestly starting to take too much energy to even sit up. Dipper yawned. Mabel gave him a weak smile.

"How about I drive the rest of the way?" Mabel suggested. "You can have a nap in the back seat."

"Are you sure? We still have four hours before we'll be there." Dipper yawned again, feeling drowsy.

"It'll be fine. You get some well-deserved rest." Mabel helped Dipper off the ground. Dipper swayed on his feet but found his balance.

"Thanks, Mabel. You're the best." Dipper gave a genuine smile to his sister.

"Wow, you really are tired. Come on, let's go." Mabel laughed, waving her hand as if waving away the thought. Dipper frowned.

Mabel sat down in the driver's seat while Dipper crawled in the back, calmly wrapping himself in a blanket, and trying to get comfortable. Laying on his side, Dipper could almost feel himself sinking into the seat. His head felt dizzy. After possibly an hour or so, Dipper actually felt like he would fall asleep.

∆∆∆

Driving alone, Mabel quietly hummed to herself. For a while, her phone wouldn't stop ringing, but she really didn't want to wake up Dipper. (He hardly ever slept anyway.) After the second time her phone went off, she set the settings to 'Do Not Disturb'. She figured that would be the easiest solution.

The next four hours were ridiculously mind-numbing. After some time had passed, Mabel considered turning on the radio but decided against it. She couldn't risk Dipper waking up. Mabel could almost picture the interaction in her mind–

"Noo, Mabel, let me drive, I'm already awake!"

"It's fine, Dip-Dop, I've got it. You just keep getting rest."

"Noooooo, I can't sleep anyway! Just let me help you!"

–and it would go on and on like that until eventually Dipper would take the wheel anyway, shoving Mabel in the back seat, before they crash because he keeps falling asleep.

Mabel resisted the urge to laugh at her own thought process. She took a deep breath and looked at the clock. Still two hours of driving left. Deep breaths, deep breaths, Mabel tried to keep calm. Sometimes she felt like her brain was running one hundred miles per hour, but never actually thought about anything important or useful. Just a bucket of hundreds of thoughts that never amount to anything. Mabel’s stomach twisted, and her breathing became shallow. She gripped the steering wheel. Her foot pressed slightly harder on the gas. Sometimes she wondered if the reason she spent so much of her focus on dumb stuff like knitting a new sweater every day or weird art projects was because it took up the space that would be used to think about her life… think about herself.

Mabel's thoughts were broken, as a single drop landed on the front windshield, then another, then another. Each came down slowly, but soon picked up the pace, and after a few minutes, it was pouring. Absent-mindedly, Mabel flicked on the windshield wipers.

∆∆∆

Dipper woke up in a strange room. It was fairly large, and warm. There were two beds, both with lamps sitting on either side of them, some bookshelves. A TV was mounted on the wall in front of a couch and coffee table. Next to the bed he had been sleeping on, he saw one of his bags sitting on the floor. He looked around, light was coming out of an open door across the room.

"Hello?" Dipper slid off the bed, wary. Out popped a head from the open door. Dipper jumped.

"Hey, Bro-bro. You finally awake?"

Mabel. She had a toothbrush stuck in her mouth; Dipper assumed she was brushing her teeth. Looking towards the bedside table, he saw a clock sitting next to the lamp. It was eight in the afternoon.

"How long was I out? Also, where are we?" Dipper rubbed his head, he felt woozy.

"You've been asleep practically all day. Oh, and we're in a motel." The sound of Mabel brushing her teeth while talking muddled her words, but they were still understandable. "When we reached Gravity Falls, I thought about heading directly towards the Mystery Shack, but I didn't want to wake you up while you were sleeping so well, so I just stopped here and brought you inside."

Then it hit him. They were in Gravity Falls. A smile forced itself onto Dipper's face. It had been so long. Well, slightly less than a year, but that was still a long time to be away from home! Dipper grinned; he didn't think he'd ever get over the rush of emotions that came with this place. The memories, the experiences, nothing was better than this.

He sat up, he felt significantly less tired, but now he barely had two hours before he'd normally go to bed anyway. Dipper groaned. He hated taking naps during the day; he'd sleep all day, wake up just before bedtime, and not sleep the rest of the night. Then, he'd just be tired the whole next day and want to take a nap, making the cycle repeat itself over and over.

Dipper stood up, stretched his back, and walked towards the front door. He grabbed his jacket, throwing it on.

"I'm gonna step out for a bit, okay?" Dipper said, turning towards Mabel.

Mabel gave him a thumbs up. Stepping out the door, Dipper's face was suddenly hit with the fresh cold air of the evening. He took a deep breath, taking in the deep scent of pine, rainwater, and tree sap. The ground was wet, and the air was humid. It must have rained earlier. Dipper chuckled.

Tomorrow morning, I'll be at the Mystery Shack, hanging out with Ford and Stan. Dipper grinned, he felt giddy, like a kid running towards the biggest playground they'd ever seen. In a way, the forest was his playground, but instead of swings or slides, there were gnomes and eyeball bats, as well as plenty of other interesting and or horrifying paranormal creatures. He especially couldn't wait to go on more adventures with Ford. Ford always has the coolest things to show him, either from his trips sailing around the world with Stan, or just from his exploring around town. That was the great thing about Gravity Falls, because things that would normally have little to no probability of happening actually have high probability here, there was an infinite amount of strange and supernatural activity constantly happening.

Dipper took a deep breath. All the stress and frustration of dealing with their parents could finally be washed away now that he was home. He stared out into the forest. He loved exploring in the woods.

After standing outside for nearly an hour, Dipper finally forced himself to go back inside. When he came back in, Mabel had already crashed on her bed and fallen asleep. Good, Dipper thought, I know she's tired. Dipper opened up his bag on the floor and pulled out a book. If he wasn't going to sleep that night, he might as well read.

∆∆∆

The next morning, Dipper fiddled with the motel key to get inside, holding breakfast with one hand and his key in the other. Coming inside, he caught a glimpse of movement over in Mabel's bed. She must be waking up soon, he thought. He walked up to the table and set down the food. Not four seconds later, Mabel shot out of bed.

"Good morning," Dipper called, "Did you sleep okay? I woke up pretty early, so I thought I'd run to Greasy's and get us some breakfast."

Dipper did not mention the fact that "pretty early" was actually yesterday night and he hadn't ever gone to sleep. Mabel energetically skipped over to the table. Dipper never understood how she could wake up and immediately be buzzing with energy; he usually needed at least an hour and seven cups of coffee.

"Actually, I slept pretty great. It just feels so good to be back!" Mabel gushed. Dipper chuckled, he was happy to see her feeling better.

Dipper sat down across from Mabel. He felt slightly tired, but it was what he got for sleeping all day yesterday, he supposed. For some reason, something seemed to be scratching in the back of his mind, like something just wasn't sitting right.

Dipper picked at his own pancakes with his fork, not actually eating for a few minutes. On the outside, he felt warm. Mabel was happy, he was pretty sure he was happy. Everything should be fine. So… why does he feel so cold on the inside? Why is his stomach twisting like it can't bear how he's feeling? He's back home! He's in Gravity Falls and he never has to go back to California again. He should be happy. Yet, as he continuously picked at his breakfast without taking a bite, he didn't feel happy.

"Are you okay?" Mabel asked, picking up on Dipper's discontent immediately. Mabel was always the first to notice how Dipper was feeling. It was something Dipper could love and hate about her.

Dipper looked up from his pancakes, staring for a moment. His mind went blank, and he felt kind of like his brain shut off. After realizing he had been silent for way too long, Dipper snapped himself out of his trance.

"Yeah, I'm good, just not feeling too hungry… Maybe I'll put this in the fridge and eat it later," Dipper waved away his discomfort, hoping to ease the tension.

Mabel didn't look convinced.

"My stomach is hurting, that's all." Dipper avoided eye contact.

Mabel shifted, uncomfortably. "Okay, if you say so."

Dipper could tell she didn't actually believe him, but was glad she didn't press him any further. It was something she had gotten better at over the years. It used to be, whenever Dipper would be feeling upset, Mabel would push and push until she found out exactly what was bothering him, try and fix it, but ultimately make it worse. Now she makes a point to let him have his space and sort things out on his own. Dipper liked it that way.

Not long after breakfast, the Pines twins made their way to the Mystery Shack. The ride over was pretty calm. Mabel drove, while Dipper rested his head on the car window. Mabel hummed to herself. Dipper stared longingly at the woods. He couldn't wait to go monster finding with Ford again. The woods of Gravity Falls were where he belonged, among the trees and the weird creatures. He missed everything and everyone in Gravity Falls, but most of all, he was ready to be immersed in mystery again. Every summer, the highlights of every trip we're unraveling the infinite mysteries of Gravity Falls. Dipper took a deep breath, when suddenly, something caught his eye.

Standing alone in the woods, obscured by the trees, Dipper could have sworn he saw someone. It was vague in his eyes, and he couldn’t quite make out the details, but one thing stood out above all. The bright glowing yellow eye illuminating the face of a stranger. Glowing yellow eyes, Dipper panicked. He turned to Mabel, fear in his eyes.

“Mabel! Did you see that?” Dipper asked, frantic.

“See what? You fawning over trees like you’ve been raised by wolves?” Mabel teased him and laughed. Dipper grumbled.

“Mabel, this is serious!” Dipper said. What if Bill is back?

“Ooh? A new mystery for the Mystery Twins to solve?” Mabel’s left eyebrow perked up in intrigue.

“Maybe.” Dipper hummed.

“Great!” Mabel exclaimed. “Then we’ll get to it after we visit Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford.” Mabel gave Dipper a smug look.

Dipper frowned, slumping back in his seat. What if Bill really is back though? What would he be planning? Dipper could feel his heart rate accelerating. Weirdmageddon was so long ago, but the memories still floated in Dipper's mind every once in a while. Bill is dead, Dipper told himself. He has to be dead… but if he somehow survived? What could he do now?

After a few minutes, the twins finally pulled into the driveway to the Mystery Shack. Seeing the shack again temporarily washed away Dipper's anxiety. He could feel his face going red. He beamed with excitement, stepping out of the car and running to the front door. Mabel wasn't far behind him.

Standing before the front door, Dipper and Mabel looked at each other, then back at the door. Mabel knocked, slightly harder than necessary.

A few rustling sounds came from inside, when the door finally opened. Inside, stood their Grunkle Stan. Dipper could feel his heart swell, and a wide grin spread itself on his face. Mabel squealed. Dipper and Mabel wrapped their arms around their grunkle.

"Kids!" Stan exclaimed.

"Grunkle Stan!" Dipper and Mabel shouted.

"I can't believe it. You're here! It's not summer yet… your parents really let you come early?" Stan was thrilled, yet the question dampened the mood greatly for Dipper and Mabel.

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other, then back at Stan. Dipper bit his lip. Mabel looked down.

"There's something we have to tell you."

Dipper, Mabel, Stan, and Ford all sat at the kitchen table. Dipper stared at his hands. He could feel his stomach twisting. He gripped his fists underneath the table.

"The truth is, we came without our parents' permission." Dipper looked up from his hands, to see what reaction Stan or Ford might have.

Ford gasped; Stan's eyes widened. A pinch of guilt hit Dipper. He was worried they'd be disappointed, but he still held the hope that they would just be happy he was there.

"You what?" Ford stood up rigidly.

"It's not what you think," Mabel said, "They– they wouldn't let us come back!" Mabel looked down at her hands.

Stan passed a look to Ford, and Ford nodded.

"Dipper, Mabel," Ford said sternly, "You shouldn't have run away from home."

Dipper didn't know what he had expected. He wanted to be able to come back to Gravity Falls and make everything go back to the way it used to be. He felt stupid for thinking that. He of all people should know how things change. How things don't just revert back to how they used to be. He glanced at Mabel, who was gripping the end of her sweater tightly.

Stan shook his head. "You know we have to call your parents, right?"

Silence. Ford chimed in, "Look, if you'll just explain to us why you did it, we can maybe talk to your parents and–"

Ford's words fizzled out in Dipper's mind. Dipper's brows furrowed. He was getting frustrated. Why did they have to explain what they did? Why did they have to justify it? It's already been done and it's not going to change.

"Look, you may not agree with what we did, but I still stand by it. We are not going home. That's final." Dipper stared directly into Ford's eyes, his gaze unbreaking. Dipper felt his throat tighten up. He knew he shouldn't be so disrespectful to Ford, but Dipper needed to make it clear that they weren’t just leaving. Ford almost looked offended, but before he could say something, Stan interrupted him.

"Alright, alright, no need to fight. Kids, we don’t agree with what you did, but we understand why you did it." Stan was calm, easing Dipper's frustration. “You’re right in that we can’t make you go back, but you won’t be able to stay with us like you used to.”

“Well, if we have to get our own place… can we at least have our old jobs back?” Mabel asked, nervous.

“Sure thing, kid.” Stan chuckled, and ruffled her hair.

Everyone smiled and hugged. Mabel smiled. Dipper gave her a sympathetic expression, he knew how nervous she’d been about this. Dipper could feel a weight being lifted from his spirit, glad to be over the subject. For the next hour, Dipper and Mabel recounted their past year to their grunkles. Ford showed them a cool rock with runes engraved on it. Stan and he had found it traveling the globe. Dipper felt… better.

Dipper and Mabel waved goodbye to their grunkles. Stepping back in the car, Dipper pushed his relief to the side. He had to focus. Okay, think, how could Bill possibly be back? We defeated him back in Weirdmageddon. Unless he somehow found a way to come back. Maybe when Stan’s memories returned, he came back too? If that’s the case, why would he only show up now? Dipper thought. He needed to figure out what was going on. Driving back to the motel, he kept his eyes glued to the woods. If there was a chance he could see him again, he needed to take it.

“I’ve gotta know what that was…” Dipper mumbled. He didn’t think Mabel could hear him.

“Looking for your nerd thing?” Mabel teased him.

"You said we could look for it after we visited the Mystery Shack. We’ve visited the Mystery Shack, and now I'm looking," he said.

Mabel rolled her eyes, "What was it even you think you saw?"

"I saw someone… with a glowing yellow eye," Dipper said, grimly.

The next thing Dipper knew, he was launched forward. He turned to Mabel. She had slammed her foot on the breaks, and was now staring intensely at the floor of the car, eyes wide and breath fast. Reorienting himself from the whiplash, Dipper shook his head to get it to focus again.

"WHAT?" Mabel snapped her head towards Dipper. She looked frantic; her expression was both of disbelief and horror. "Dipper, that's serious!" She yelled, eyes flicking all around the place, as though she were almost looking for him.

"Oh now you believe me?" Dipper retorted, probably meaner than necessary

"Ugh," Mabel rolled her eyes, "Dipper, you don't think Bill could possibly still be alive do you?"

“How would I know?” Dipper shouted. “Believe me, I’m just as confused as you are.”

Mabel stared at him, eyes shaking. Dipper wished he had a better answer for her, but he didn’t. He didn’t know how Bill could be back, or what he’d be doing now. Dipper wasn't really sure what to say. Both he and Mabel had bad memories with Bill. Hell, if it weren't for the fact that no one else in Gravity Falls had any idea what was going on during Weirdmageddon, and if they did they weren’t allowed to talk about it, everyone else in town would have bad memories with him too.

The two drove back to the motel in silence. Stepping inside, the room was cold. Dipper shivered. Dipper looked over at his sister. Mabel hugged herself. Five years ago, Bill tricked her into giving him the only thing he needed to start the apocalypse. Dipper knew Mabel never really got over the guilt of that.

"Hey," he said, he put a comforting hand on her shoulder, "it'll be okay. Even if Bill is back, we beat him once, we can beat him again."

Mabel nodded. "Yeah."

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Part 2

Every morning, right after Tad leaves for work, Bill shimmies himself out of his straitjacket and escapes off to the forest of Gravity Falls. Occasionally he'll sneak out at night as well, but not as often. Escaping at night left him tired the next morning, and he needed to be careful not to raise Tad’s suspicion. Especially since Bill couldn’t even lie to him if he needed to. He liked his tastes of freedom. Unfortunately, his physical body was quite high maintenance in comparison to being an astrally projected, omniscient, demonic entity completely incomprehensible to the human mind.

Bill tried to spend as much time out of the house as he could, but more and more often he'd find himself too tired to even move. Tad was beginning to get concerned. Bill just told him he was having nightmares and couldn't sleep well, it wasn’t technically a lie. Perhaps nightmare wasn't the best word to describe what happens when Bill falls asleep, but it was certainly nightmarish. This seemed to make Tad less suspicious, however it did mean Bill had to withstand even more goodnight hugs and forehead kisses.

"Oh, you poor thing! So racked with guilt you can't sleep!" Tad had said when Bill first told him. Bill wasn’t always sure if Tad purposely meant to be as patronizing as he was, but either way, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He was Bill Cipher, feared across the multiverse as an unstoppable threat. Even with the loss of his powers, Bill felt he was deserving of more respect than this.

He couldn't say he felt bad about lying. He felt a strange contempt in it. Some of them would berate him for lying to the one person on the multiverse who actually cared about him, but the others wanted him to do it more, so Bill was sort of at odds with himself on the subject. It wasn't exactly anything new. There were so many of them, all talking at the same time louder and louder… He had learned most of them canceled out their own noise after a while. He had learned to deal with them, perhaps not in what his psychiatrist would label as a "healthy coping mechanism" but it worked for him. Then again, considering he was an interdimensional felon, maybe his coping didn't work, and they were just gaslighting him… again. Stupid voices, Bill thought, always trying to make me think I'm crazy!

After Tad came home from work, Bill would be back where he was when he left. He hated the immobility of the straitjacket, but he guessed it made Tad more comfortable thinking Bill wasn't in the capacity to hurt other people. It was a trust thing, and Bill… wasn’t trustworthy. That made sense.

Most of the time, when Tad came back from work, it was the same. He'd make dinner, try to strike up a conversation, Bill would usually just give a nod or a one word answer, and then Tad would sit down with a book for the rest of the night until bedtime. Bill was usually sitting next to him while he read. Sometimes Tad would ask if Bill wanted him to read to him. Bill always declined, and went to bed.

Bill had decided it would be selfish to form a bond with Tad. Tad was emotional, and cared too much about others… more than he cares about himself. Bill was the opposite of that. Getting close to Tad would only hurt him.

Bill was getting a little tired of hurting people. It took so much energy. There was no point to it now, anyways. Everything he had done was to work towards the same goal; get into Earth’s dimension and take over the universe. Before that, he had other goals to justify what he did. Things were easier to excuse when he had a reason. Still, he could admit he got… carried away… really carried away.

∆∆∆

∆ F O U R Y E A R S A G O ∆

Bill Cipher glared at the Axolotl with disdain. That creature– that monster. He lied to him. He lied. Bill did not feel emotions, he was completely detached from feelings, but there was one he knew. One grain of fervor he still held… and that was his complete hatred of the Axolotl. The being, the entity, the god, the Axolotl, who ruined his life… who made him.

At the moment, Bill was contained into a chamber that would not allow him to escape, despite being in an astrally projected form. He had no physical presence, so the court had to bring in specialists to contain him. Supposedly, it was mere temporary confinement, and they were going to bring in his old body to contain him. Bill huffed, good luck with that.

Floating still, Bill could feel eyes on him from all directions. Eyes of hate, eyes of disgust, eyes of anger, eyes of fear. The jarring thing, though, was that these were people BIll knew, people he remembered. Demons. Fellow demons. Demons from his home dimension. All his years in the nightmare realm, everyone knew Bill Cipher, yet none knew who he was, or who he used to be. These people, the people he hadn’t seen in millenia, people who had only heard of what he’d done after the fire, Bill knew these people, and they knew him.

CLANG!

A sharp noise directed from the back of the courtroom, Bill turned. Two burly guards rolled in an old, stone box, roughly the size of a human body. The box didn’t look like a box, it looked like a giant stone triangle, with two locked doors on the front. It was wet, and covered in dirt and grass, and the edges were chipped off. Oh, Bill thought to himself, they did find it.

The only way to open the doors on the front was with the key, which no one knew the location of, not even Bill. One of the guards picked up a sledge hammer. He raised the hammer over his head. He took a deep breath. He swung.

BOOM!

The loud immense sound of the guard striking the box echoed throughout the courtroom. A giant hole now resided in the place where the lock used to be. The guard reached in the hole, pulling the doors open.

Gasps resounded all around. Expressions quickly turned from anger to horror, then changed from horror to sadness, and then sadness to disgust. The image of Bill’s mangled body. Whispers spread quickly. Bill stared at the marred body of his old self.

Bill could hear a slight tapping, as a demon dressed in a white suit with white hair and white eyes walked over to his body. They pressed a finger to Bill's body's forehead, and in a disgusting twisting of bones and writhing of muscle and organs, Bill's body slowly cracked back into perfect condition. Bill was almost impressed. Demon magic took energy, especially healing. It would have taken thirty-nine demon's of average power to undo that much damage. Whoever this demon was, they were very powerful.

The pale demon turned to Bill. Lifting a single finger, an opening was created in Bill's chamber, and Bill was pulled through and into his old body.

Then things went dark for a while.

∆∆∆

Bill opened his eyes. He looked around. He was in his room, in Tad's house. Bill's breathing slowed, and he found himself glaring at the walls. Taking a deep breath, Bill layed back down.

Bill lay awake in his bed, not having the energy to get up. He found it strange… how often he'd find himself in bed, completely exhausted, yet kept awake by some inconceivable emotion that lay deep down in his stomach, drilling into him without meaning, explanation, or purpose.

Without meaning, explanation, or purpose.

Bill laughed, quietly. He guessed those words could probably explain his own existence. He closed his eyes. Sometimes Bill could feel tears swelling in his eyes, or something in his stomach acting like he had eaten something wrong when he had not. The physical reactions of emotion that his body was feeling, but his mind was not. Sometimes Bill wondered if he had a purpose. If any of his actions had possibly been part of some grand plan that ultimately led to the betterment of the universe. Those thoughts were funny; he could hardly take them seriously. What could possibly be the purpose for all this suffering? How can anything good come from destruction?

…

How could anything good come from me?

Late at night, when he was alone and couldn’t sleep or sneak out, Bill thought of himself. He thought of his actions, and he thought about the people he had come across throughout his life. He thought of Tad; of his brothers and cousins who were still alive after the fire, and of his old friends and family members who weren't. He thought of the people he'd hurt. He didn't like how few of them he could recall the names of. Another testament to just how many lives he's ruined.

Bill was empty. Void of emotion or experience. He had nothing but a hole where his heart used to be. All that was left was the strange contempt he'd get when the hours became late. The rest of the time, his mind was a static of disheveled illogical thought without any feeling to push an idea.

He felt the voices echoing in his head get even louder. Good. That meant he was asleep. Bill didn't like to sleep. His mind was broken, plagued by memories. All he could do was sit… in the dark room of his mind… with each and every one of the voices all screaming at him. In his mind, without any distraction of reality, he could clearly hear the words of all of them. What they were saying… their distinct voices… They were the voices of his mind, of the people he's hurt, of the people he's killed.

The voice of Stanford.

The voice of Shooting Star.

The voice of Pine Tree.

The voice of Tad.

The voices of his mother and father.

Every one of them dug a deeper pit into Bill's mind. A pit that did nothing but devour more and more of Bill’s soul, sucking in everything like a black hole. Constantly pulling things in but never filling up. Sometimes Bill wondered if maybe the pit would swallow him whole one day.

Sometimes he wondered if it already had. It wasn't guilt that he had felt; moreover, it was the absence of guilt. The absence of anything. The pit was not of sadness or despair or remorse…

It was just a pit.

∆∆∆

Bill coughed as he trudged through the woods, balancing himself with his cane. He hadn’t slept all night, and was feeling rightfully exhausted. He had a plan, he had no idea how to execute it, but he had a plan, and that was something at least. He needed to get something from the Axolotl. He still needed a few things to perform the ritual, luckily for him he was standing in the paranormal capital of the world. His biggest problem was that he himself could not perform it. After his last visit to the famous wishmaster, he was banned from ever returning to his domain ever again. He needed to find someone smart enough to do it for him, and dumb enough to actually do what he says.

Unfortunately, almost everyone in Gravity Falls had the IQ of a potato.

Every smart person in town hated him. He obviously wouldn’t have any luck getting to Ford. He’d burned that bridge a long time ago. Dammit! Bill bit his lip. Why did he have to use up all of his most useful pawns already?

He looked up at the sky. Morning was beginning to creep its way up the horizon. He growled, his mood somehow turning even more sour. He had to be back at the house before Tad woke up, and good lord knows he wakes up with the goddamned sun. He sighed in frustration, he was too tired for this. He would just run away, but Tad was a much more powerful demon than Bill even when he had his powers. It also wouldn’t help that Bill can’t leave town.

Once Bill made it back to the house, he had to crawl in through his bedroom window. He hid his cane back in the closet where it was, and secured himself back in his straitjacket. Believe it or not, it was actually harder to get yourself in a straitjacket than it was to get out. Checking the awful dark circles under his eyes in the mirror, Bill wondered if he could convince Tad he had actually slept. Tad was a hard person to deceive. He had a special ability to tell when someone was lying no matter how convincing, so you had to be very careful of your word choice if you wished to make falsehoods with him. Bill had apparently made it back just in time, because the moment he had scrambled back into his bed, into what looked like a convincing sleeping position, Tad knocked on the door.

Tad peeked his head inside, scared to wake Bill up. He tip-toed closer to the bed. Bill closed his eyes, hoping he could make his face look less angry. Apparently he did not do a good enough job of this, as the next thing Tad said was:

“Oh good, you’re already awake. Well, breakfast is ready!” Tad cheered. God, his cheerfulness is unnerving.

Bill groaned, sleepily. He looked up at Tad, hoping he didn’t look as tired as he felt. Judging by the concern that immediately drew itself onto Tad’s face, he looked even worse. Tad helped Bill out of bed and into his wheelchair. Bill was getting really tired of that thing.

In the kitchen, Tad was humming to himself while Bill sat at the table, grumpy. Bill glared at the back of Tad’s head. How can any person be so cheery all the time? You’d think the fact that it was six in the morning would slow his merriment, but it did not. Tad, as usual, acted like he was ready to run a marathon.

After breakfast, Tad sat next to Bill at the table, sipping a cup of tea and talking to him. Well, talking at him. Bill hadn’t said much, just nodded occasionally when Tad asked if he was listening. One loophole around Tad’s power was that it only worked if you lied to him verbally. Bill wasn’t listening to a word Tad had said, but it was nice to hear his voice. Almost every voice Bill heard was imaginary, and not nearly as nice as Tad. It felt a lot better actually listening to something real.

“Your hair has gotten so long since I last saw you.”

That’s what happens when you don’t cut it for thousands of years, Bill mentally retorted. It was actually impressive how long Tad could talk about absolutely nothing. Bill silently wondered how on earth Tad could endlessly come up with things to talk about when Bill hadn’t said a word. You’d think he would give up at some point, but you’d be wrong.

“By the way, I was wondering about ways we could start working on getting your powers back.”

That got Bill listening. He jumped, and stared at Tad, who sipped his tea with an expression that could only be read as: I knew that would get your attention. So he did know Bill wasn’t actually listening. Bill huffed. There was no way Tad actually thought that was possible.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tad. I couldn’t get my powers back if I tried and you know that.” Bill stared at the table in front of him. The tablecloth, like everything else in the house, was perfectly clean and well kept. Bill glared at it, everything in this house felt so stale and boring.

Tad scoffed. “Oh, come now, William. Don’t say that. The court very clearly said that you could earn back your powers. All you have to do is learn to lo—”

“DON’T—” Bill snapped, yelling at Tad. “Don’t you dare say it.”

Tad stopped, staring at Bill. He took a deep breath, and said, “Okay, William. I won’t say it.”

Bill’s breath slowed. He could feel an aching in his chest, his recompense for yelling at Tad. Bill shoved the pain down, ignoring it. He was used to chest pains. Don’t think it had anything to do with feelings, the pain was purely physical. Bill felt no guilt. He didn’t feel anything.

There was no way Bill could earn his powers back. He couldn’t feel empathy or any other emotion. That was his simple state of being; pure mechanical numbness. He could become the nicest, friendliest, most admirable person in the world, and it would mean nothing. It wouldn’t be real. No amount of good deeds would change his heart. He would not feel. He would not love. Bill was dead inside.

Bill’s grim train of thought must have been evident on his face. Tad gave Bill a look of sympathy.

“It’s alright, William. You may not think yourself capable of redemption, but I have faith in you.” Tad reached over, and put his hand over where Bill’s heart supposedly was. “You have a heart, William, just like everyone else, and if you have a heart, you can love.”

Tad smiled, his warm expression a small light in a sea of darkness. Bill grimaced. If only Tad realized… if only he knew… Bill wasn’t just dead inside…

Bill Cipher was the walking rotting corpse to a demon he no longer knew.

Bill stayed silent, following Tad’s every move with his eyes. Tad’s hand, slowly pulling away from him, picking up the teacup again. Bill looked down. Tad was the embodiment of love, he loved everyone and everything. Most times, it seemed like Tad was in love with simply getting to exist. They were complete opposites.

“Well, it’s about time I get to work. Don’t want to be late,” Tad stood up from the table, having finished his tea and his discussion. Tad snapped his fingers, and suddenly looked like a regular citizen of Gravity Falls. Well, a regular citizen anyway, most people in Gravity Falls were a bit off.

“I’ll be back home by four. If you need anything at all, just say my name three times in a row, and I’ll be here in a jiffy. You should be fine on your own,” Tad continued, voice having been transformed along with his body. His new voice was a dull monotone so boring and lifeless it was worthy of the position of civics professor.

Tad left, and Bill had to actively stop himself from screaming. Of course Tad had a job. Bill felt stupid for not simply assuming so. Tad lived in a nice house, in a nice part of town, with a nice car. There was no way he could afford any of it without some kind of consistent form of attaining money. Bill felt his eye twitching. He had stayed awake all night, and why? He assumed night would be the only time he’d have where he wouldn’t be under Tad’s watchful eye.

Bill squirmed out of his straitjacket immediately. Afterwards, he retrieved his cane and once again crawled out his window. I’m already getting tired of doing this, Bill thought. Really, he wanted to go back to bed, but it wouldn’t help him much in the long run. Bill needed as much time as possible to get ahold of everything he needed to make a portal into the Axolotl’s domain. Not to mention he still needed to find someone to go in for him. The only question was who?

∆∆∆

Once again, Bill found himself trudging through the woods collecting various items for the portal ritual. He still needed rainwater (must be from within twenty-four hours of when it rained), fairy dust, unicorn tears, twelve magic crystals, an Ambystoma mexicanum, and several other things. Bill wasn’t really sure how to get an axolotl in the middle of Oregon, but he was at least seventy percent sure he could figure it out.

Walking through the woods, Bill realized he was getting really close to the road. He didn’t think much of it. He didn’t really care if some random human saw him, as long as Tad didn’t find out he snuck out. After maybe ten minutes by the road, a car passed by. The car wasn’t going very fast, and Bill could even see the face of the guy in the passenger seat. He had a soft-looking pale face with pink cheeks and arched nose, dark blue eyes, fluffy curly brown hair, and thin reddish lips. He was beautiful. What worried Bill, however, was that he seemed to be staring directly at him.

For a second, Bill wondered if he was being too careless. Bill shook the thought away. There was no way that some random human was actually staring at him. The woods were lovely, he was probably just looking at the trees. Yeah, trees. Bill could understand, he had always thought the pine trees of Gravity Falls were alluring.

A few hours later, the same car passed by again, and the stranger in the passenger seat was still staring at the woods, more intensely this time. Bill tried not to pay any close attention. That is, until the car came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road. Bill heard a scream, and now not only was he paying close attention, he was stepping even closer to the road to get a better look.

“WHAT?”

Bill crouched down, hiding behind the bushes, suddenly careful not to be seen as he eavesdropped on what had to be a juicy conversation. What could he say? Bill was a sucker for drama.

"Dipper, that's serious!" The same voice as the one who screamed “what” earlier said. Bill couldn’t see her face, but she was wearing a sweater with a sad clown on it. Wait, Dipper? Where have I heard that name before? Bill concentrated.

"Oh now you believe me?" The pretty one in the passenger seat replied, rudely. The one who Bill had thought was staring at him. Seriously, where have I heard the name “Dipper” before? Bill racked his brain for the memory, but was lost. He had a terrible memory.

"Ugh… Dipper, you don't think Bill could possibly still be alive do you?" Bill’s ears perked up. He heard his name. They know my name. Why do they know my name? They’re talking about me. Why are they talking about me? No. They aren’t talking about me, that’d be insane. I don’t even know who these people are. Must be… some other Bill.

“How would I know? Believe me, I’m just as confused as you are.”

That’s when Bill realized… Dipper. That was the name everyone used to call his old puppet, Pine Tree. No, wait, that wasn’t right. This person was maybe six or seven years older than Pine Tree, and not nearly as awkward looking. Then again, Bill honestly had no idea how long he had been gone from Gravity Falls. Maybe it had been several years.

Pine Tree.

Maybe he could be useful.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Part 1

Dipper paced back and forth in his room of the motel. Driving down the road with Mabel, he saw someone standing in the woods, someone with a glowing yellow eye. That’s not exactly a common trait, in fact, there was only one person Dipper knew who possessed it: Bill Cipher.

The catch? Bill Cipher was dead. At least Dipper thought he was. If he somehow survived, he could be planning anything. The person Dipper saw looked human, so he must’ve possessed someone. Dipper chewed his pen, glaring at the wall. This couldn’t end well. Dipper had to figure this out… he had to stop Bill. If he didn’t… Dipper took a deep breath. He needed to calm down, but how was he supposed to be calm when the demon who almost killed him and his entire family and started the apocalypse was possibly still alive and running free? Dipper groaned, he did not need a psychopathic demon coming back from the dead on top of dealing with his parents’ ridiculous need to control everything in his life.

Dipper glanced over to Mabel. She was aggressively knitting a sweater with an apathetic smile on her face that was more than a few levels of creepy. The sweater she was knitting was black, with many yellow eyes scattered all over it. Dipper frowned, you could always tell how Mabel was feeling by her sweaters. He sighed. This couldn’t go well. He needed to do something, either to find out what's going on, or at the very least do something to make Mabel feel better.

Dipper glanced over to his backpack, leaning against his bed. He touched each finger to his palm. It’s not like it would prove anything. Clenching his fist, Dipper sighed and reached for his bag. It was a bag he kept for adventuring, it had all sorts of supplies in it; a flashlight, cameras, his phone, water bottles, his journal, one of Ford's magnet guns, sunscreen, some gnome-repellent, all sorts of things. Anything he could possibly need, he kept in his bag.

“Hey, Mabel,” Dipper called, slinging the backpack around one shoulder, “I’m going for a walk.”

Mabel hummed in response. Dipper gave her a look of sympathy. Without another word, Dipper left out the door. So, if you couldn’t tell, he wasn’t actually going on a walk. He was going to look for Bill’s statue… just to see if it was still there. He would have told Mabel, but if the statue had actually turned out to be gone… he couldn’t put that stress on her. If Bill really was back, Dipper would just have to deal with it himself.

Dipper knew the path to Bill’s statue, he had visited many times in the past. Four years ago, while on a hike with Soos, they had stumbled upon it entirely by accident. Back then, Soos dared Dipper to shake its hand, to which Dipper outright refused. He had been terrified he would somehow revive Bill, but after Soos kept pushing him and pushing him to do it, he did, and… nothing happened. It was just a statue. After that, he and Soos took a black marker and drew a twirly mustache and mean eyebrows on the statue. It eventually got washed off by the rain, but after that day, every once and awhile, Dipper and Soos would visit the statue again and scribble all over it. It was nice. They didn’t have to worry about Bill anymore, there was nothing he could do to hurt them anymore. Bill was gone.

That is… until now.

Now, Dipper was trudging through the woods in the dark, just to see if the statue was still there, just to make sure Bill was still dead, just to make sure he’d have some peace of mind for five seconds without having to worry about his life falling apart due to some weird demonic bullshit. Dipper fumed. For the first time in five years, he felt completely terrified of the dream demon.

No. No, that’s not right. Dipper wasn’t terrified, he wasn’t scared. He was pissed. Why? Why? Why did Bill come back? Why did that stupid demon have to come crawling back to Gravity Falls? This year was supposed to be his break. A summer where he could just go on lighthearted adventures with his friends. Discover some old ruins, decipher an ancient code, or solve another town mystery, or whatever! Whatever he felt like doing, without having to worry about the apocalypse, demons, evil plans, or his parents!

Dipper stopped, feeling light trails of tears pouring down from his eyes. He was crying. Why was he crying? Dipper could feel his heart clenching up and twisting painfully. Why couldn’t he just have a somewhat normal summer break? Dipper stared at the ground, brows furrowed. I can't take this anymore.

∆∆∆

Mabel sat alone in the motel room, knitting a fairly depressing sweater. Her stomach growled, she had skipped out on dinner. Her insides felt all mixed up and in the wrong place, she was half sure if she tried to eat she’d just make herself sick. Although in all honesty she already felt pretty sick. Mabel stopped knitting, put down her needles, and looked down at the ugly anxiety sweaters she had made. Since Dipper had left, she had already made five complete sweaters, and she hated all of them. They all made her think of Bill. The last time she had met Bill, was when he had a countdown going to kill either her or her brother. Back in history’s weirdest apocalypse, an apocalypse that was entirely her fault. Bill had tricked her into giving him the rift, and she actually gave it to him! All because her birthday party wasn’t going as planned. Mabel glared at her ugly sweaters. She’d burn them if she wouldn’t feel so wasteful about burning good yarn. So, angrily, she picked one up and started pulling at the yarn, watching as the ugly anxiety of the sweater shredded away as she did so.

Caught in the middle of her sweater-deconstructing, Mabel heard a knock at the door. At first, she assumed Dipper had just forgotten his key, but as she reached for the doorknob, she could hear the faint sound of girls giggling outside the door. Pulling the door open, Mabel’s face brightened as her three best friends came into her view. Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica. Mabel beamed, and the girls squealed. The three of them struggled to get inside, as they were all trying to pull Mabel into a warm embrace at once. Mabel couldn’t help but laugh at her friends, hugging them back.

“Guys? What are you doing here?” Mabel asked, confused. She didn’t think she had told any of them she was in town yet.

“We heard from your weird uncles you were in town early, so we thought we’d stop by,” Pacifica explained.

“We harassed them until they told us where you were,” Candy said, a little too innocently.

“And,” Grenada chimed in, “We have pizza!” Grenda held up two boxes of fresh pizza with a wide grin on her face.

Mabel couldn’t keep the smile off her face, or the blush that clouded her cheeks when she saw Pacifica. So much had changed in the past five years; Pacifica was a lot different now, in behavior and looks. Her hair was shorter and curlier, and now held two colored streaks of pink and green. She remembered sitting in the bathroom helping her dye her hair at the Mystery Shack because her parents wouldn’t let her dye it. She also remembered Pacifica getting grounded for the rest of summer because of it. Not like that actually stopped them from hanging out, though. Mabel did have a grappling hook.

Pacifica smiled, and Mabel's face had become a proper tomato. Mabel gave a nervous laugh, and Pacifica blushed. Candy and Grenda giggled at the girls' cute interaction.

“So, is there any reason you’re back early?” Pacifica asked.

Mabel’s smile faltered. Should she tell them? Mabel looked down, feeling a growing pressure in her throat. Concern spread itself over the faces of all Mabel’s friends.

“Mabel?” Candy questioned, voice sweet. “Did something happen?”

Mabel sighed. She gestured over to the couch, telling her friends to sit down. Mabel took a deep breath, before sitting down herself. It was then that she explained what happened with her parents, and how they ran away from home. For a second, Mabel considered telling them about Dipper seeing Bill, but decided not to. They didn’t actually have any evidence to show he was back, and Mabel wasn’t really sure if Candy or Grenda even knew entirely who Bill was. Whilst explaining, Mabel felt twinges of dread about how they’d react. Luckily, she was at least met with kindness. Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica all expressed their condolences. While explaining the conversation she and Dipper had had with their parents, Mabel couldn’t help but notice Pacifica looked away at her words.

“We’re really sorry, Mabel. If you want us to go, so you can be alone, that’s fine.” Candy’s face was warm, but Mabel could see there was sadness in her words.

“No, no,” Mabel shook her head, “I don’t want you guys to leave. You’ve been the highlight of my day today!”

That seemed to bring joy onto her friends’ faces. That was good, Mabel really didn’t want them to leave. Pacifica reached a hand over to grasp Mabel’s.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Pacifica’s gentle voice soothed Mabel. Mabel could feel her face getting warmer as she gazed into Pacifica’s dark blue eyes.

“Yeah,” Mabel’s voice was shaky, and she could feel her heart beating loud in her chest, “I’m glad you’re here too.”

For the next few hours, Mabel talked with her friends, eating pizza. They talked about school, work, gossip, girls and guys, local drama, everything Mabel missed while she was gone. They talked about everything. Mabel held Pacifica's hand while they talked. Mabel glanced over to Pacifica multiple times, taking in the fine features of her face. Her almond shaped eyes, her thin greek nose, full lips, and the slight lines around her mouth that appeared when she smiled. Mabel thought she was beautiful, even the slight flaws in her complexion seemed perfect in Mabel’s eyes. Mabel looked down, hoping to not get caught staring. Her face felt warm. She looked up, seeing her friends talking, laughing, and eating pizza. For the first time since she and Dipper had left their parents house, Mabel felt free of everything that happened.

She felt happy.

∆∆∆

Dipper stood in the middle of a small opening in the woods. It was dark, he could hardly see, but he could see enough to be aware of the strange triangular stone covered in moss and faded marker drawings that stood before him. Bill’s statue. It’s still here. Dipper stared at the statue, breathless for a few moments, when he finally sighed in relief.

Dipper sat down on the soft grass. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his lantern, and flicked it on. Setting the lantern next to him to see, Dipper studied the statue before him. It was partially stuck in the ground, entangled in the roots of a large evergreen. Pretty blue flowers sprouted from the ground around the statue. Dipper almost laughed. Ironic, he thought. Bill wasn’t exactly the type to like flowers. At least, Dipper hummed, he didn’t think Bill was the type to like flowers. It wasn’t like Dipper ever asked him. It was hard to say, though; Bill was a little bit of a wild card.

I wonder what kind of flowers he would've liked? Dipper thought. Then he really did laugh. What a silly question. Imagine, Dipper finding out what Bill's favorite flowers were and leaving them by his statue, like some widow leaving flowers by their late husband's grave. Dipper wasn't really sure why he had even thought about it. It was a funny thought, though. It certainly made him feel better.

Dipper shook his head at himself. He pulled out his journal, and started writing. Jokingly, he wrote an aside in the margins of the paper, “What is Bill’s favorite flower?” Dipper chuckled to himself.

After a few hours of lying in the grass and writing in his journal, Dipper decided he should probably head back. He put his journal back in his backpack, and got a drink of water before leaving. Taking one last look at the statue, Dipper turned and left. For a minute, he felt like someone was watching him, but he quickly shook it off. Besides, it was relatively hard not to feel watched standing next to a statue with a single giant eye in the middle.

When Dipper finally made it back, he saw Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica leaving their room while Mabel excitedly waved goodbye to them. Dipper felt a small warmth in his heart. Those three couldn't have come at a better time. Mabel could've used some cheering up, and as much as Dipper could try, no one quite did it like those three.

"Hey," Dipper greeted as he came inside. “I see you’re feeling better.”

"Hey, yeah, uhh… Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica came to visit. They brought pizza, if you want some,” Mabel said, nervously, red in the face and pointing to the table, where two boxes of pizza sat open.

“That sounds good!” Dipper said, awkwardly, and sat down at the table, unsure of what to say next. He was glad Mabel was feeling better, but still, he was worried about her. Mabel had a tendency to ignore feelings she didn’t like thinking about.

“Heh, yeah… Oh, by the way, Pacifica mentioned that there’s an open apartment in town, and that it was relatively cheap.” Mabel sat down next to Dipper. “Y’know, so we don’t have to stay in this dinky old motel much longer.”

Dipper breathed out a sigh of relief. Finally, everything was going their way. Almost. Sure, there were still a few kinks to work out, but at least they didn’t have to worry about finding a place too long. Tomorrow, he and Mabel would be going to the Mystery Shack together for their first day of work. Dipper felt so much better. Plus, it seemed like their parents had finally stopped trying to call them. Granted, they were probably heading straight for Gravity Falls to find them and drag them back to California, but it was nice to have some peace.

∆∆∆

Late at night, or early morning, whatever, Dipper stirred. He tossed and turned until eventually he woke up. He stared at the ceiling, not really sure what to do. His mouth began to feel dry. A little bored, Dipper got up and headed outside. They still had a lot of supplies in the car, including water bottles.

He reached into the bag and pulled out a water bottle. After getting a drink, he stayed outside for a few minutes. Dipper always liked feeling the cool night air. The sky was completely clear. He could see the stars so clearly.

The big dipper was directly above him. Dipper smiled, and reached his hand up to his birthmark on his forehead. He traced his fingers along it, reminding himself it was there. Since his childhood, he had always been a little insecure about his birthmark, hiding it with a hat or his hair… but it was different at night. At night, when he could see the stars above him, especially when he saw the constellation which his birthmark resembled, he didn't feel so much like a freak for it. In those moments, he was almost glad he had it. He frowned. Almost.

Seeing Bill's statue still in the woods had helped him feel better. It made him feel like he didn't have anything to worry about. Like all this stress about Bill returning was all in his head. Of course Bill wasn't back, he had been gone for five years. What possible reason could there be to him coming back now? He really was too paranoid.

Dipper sighed and headed back inside. He had no idea why he was always so much more active at night. He was a grade “A” night owl. He was always tired during the day, but the moment the sun went down he seemed to find all the motivation to do everything in the world.

As he stepped closer to his bed, Dipper noticed something on the floor. It wasn't there before, and for some reason, Dipper felt a strange chill after seeing it. He knelt down to see what it was. It was… a yellow sticky note. Welp, that was anticlimactic. Dipper picked it up. It had something written on it.

2:14 AM

04/04/17

43°42'04.2"N 124°06'14.0"W

A time… date… and coordinates… What does this mean? Dipper turned the sticky note over. He gasped. On the back, there was a drawing. It was of the pine tree emblem that had been on Dipper's old hat… the same emblem that had been his place on the zodiac.

Dipper looked around. Mabel was still asleep. He stuck the note in his pocket. The date was for the day after tomorrow, at two in the morning. Dipper didn't really know what it could possibly mean, but he was pretty sure it was an invitation.

And he'd be damned if he was going to miss it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Part 2

1:54 AM, Sunday, April 2nd 2017.

Bill glared at the disordered mess of papers, post-it notes, and red string that sat before him on a piece of cardboard. He sat on his bed, legs criss-cross applesauce. In his head, he focussed on nothing but drowning his thoughts with the sound of rain. Bill blinked, and blinked again. His eyes burned. How long have I kept my eyes open? The dark circles pressing under his eyes ached, pleading him to close his eyes and for once not open them again. He was sure he looked tired, the way he could barely keep his head up, much less keep his eyes open. He hadn’t slept in days.

He needed a plan. He had a plan. His plan was to convince Pine Tree to help him. I need a better plan. Bill groaned, and squeezed his face. In a few hours he’d once again have to force himself back into that straitjacket, and pretend he hadn't stayed up all night. Every day was the same. He was sick of it. Nothing is changing.

Nothing ever changes.

Bill clenched his jaw. His face felt hot. His body seemed heavy. He needed sleep. No he didn’t. He didn’t need anything. He was fine. He was fine. He was fine.

P X T D

Bill jolted, feeling a sudden surge driving through his body. He had drifted. Clenching his eyes shut, Bill focussed on making the sound of rain louder in his head. Louder… louder… louder. Just loud enough to drown out them.

D S B Z I V B L F H G R O O G I B R M T ?

Shut up. Shut up. Bill covered his ears, although it didn’t really help. He looked around, holding his breath, biting his lip. His sharp teeth dug into the sensitive skin of his lips, drawing blood. Bill sucked in a breath, finding relief in the sharp pain that took over. Bill licked his lips; the metallic taste of his blood sweet in his mouth. Bill smiled. Pain. His one escape. His one morsel of pleasure he was still allowed to have. Feeling giggles crawl up in his throat, Bill covered up his mouth.

11 5 5 16 9 20 17 21 9 5 20

Bill’s eyes unfocused. He was going to pass out soon, he knew it. Whatever he made his next move, he needed to do it fast. Bill lowered his hands watching as they trembled, covered in blood; bones aching, muscles twitching, skin itching. Bill’s smile widened, his bloody shark-like teeth bare and on display, while his lips still dripped with blood. He took a deep breath. Alright, you’ve had your fun, now compose yourself. You still need a plan. Bill nodded, head feeling light.

Clenching his eyes shut, Bill reached for his cane, and forced himself up. Feeling every muscle in his body scream as he shifted his weight to stand. Bill lifted one hand to rub his temple. His head pounded. Bill let out a low growl. His entire arm was shaking, the floor swayed beneath his feet. He needed to force himself to move. He turned to the board, and began pacing around his room.

Pine Tree.

It was a thin lead, the chances of Pine Tree trusting him were low, but Bill didn’t really have another choice. Pine Tree was all he had at the moment. Sure, he could probably find someone else, but that could take a long time. He needed this now.

Glancing down, Bill picked up the remaining post-it notes he had. If only he could find some way to convince Pine Tree to trust him. Sure he looked different in his old body, but he certainly wasn’t unrecognizable. His eyes alone were a dead giveaway. Pretending he wasn’t who he was wasn’t an option. If only he had something Pine Tree couldn’t refuse. He didn’t have any clue what that would be. He hadn’t seen the kid in… he actually had no idea how long it had been. Bill knew it had been multiple years; Pine Tree looked completely different.

Bill sighed. He needed something. He would certainly give anything. What I have to gain… Bill bit his lip. How does he put a price on something so priceless? If only Pine Tree knew… Bill would say anything, give anything, do anything, sacrifice anything. The one thing Bill knew Pine Tree would surely want, (the one thing he couldn’t do, to everyone’s dismay) was for him to die. Bill picked up a post-it note. He glared at it. Nothing could happen… until Pine Tree received the message.

Bill picked up a pen.

∆∆∆

“Dear goodness, William, I really do wish you would stop doing this to yourself,” Tad griped, as he wiped the dried blood off of Bill’s face.

Bill hummed. He was sitting on the counter of the bathroom, swinging his legs while Tad tried to treat his wound. It was eight in the morning. Tad was late for work. Bill grimaced.

Bill had a bad habit of biting his lip, one which Tad thoroughly reprimanded. Every time Tad looked over and saw Bill with a bleeding lip, Bill knew he was in for at least an hour long scold about taking care of himself. He didn’t see the point. He was immortal. Plus, Tad had the ability to heal just about anything. It was then that Bill wondered why Tad didn’t just heal him with magic. It was a shallow puncture of the lip, easily healed. The most obvious answer, at least to Bill, was that this was Tad’s way of making him pay for the consequences of his behavior. Bill sighed. Why must everything have consequences? He wasn’t going to get out of this. Tad reached for another paper-towel, pressing it on Bill’s lip.

“I didn’t do anything.” Bill stiffened. That wasn’t true, he had done something. He had done many things. Tad responded with a disappointed and mildly annoyed look. “What?”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying.” Tad scrunched up his nose. Bill once asked Tad how his truth power worked, Tad responded by telling him that truth smells like freshly picked fruit, but lies smelled like rot. Bill asked him if that was true, and Tad just laughed. Bill had never had the power, though, so the legitimacy of Tad’s response was up to debate.

Shaking his head, Bill forced away the memory. He focused on the wall. The wall was purple, as most things Tad owned were. Purple or indigo, and sometimes navy blue; anything that wasn’t one of those colors was in greyscale. Bill sometimes wondered if Tad saw anything he liked that wasn’t purple.

“I just bit my lip. It’s not a big deal.” Bill shrugged. Tad hadn’t yet dropped the paper towel he was pressing on Bill’s lip, so his voice came out slightly unclear. “Can you please stop that, it’s uncomfortable and annoying.”

“You’re bleeding, that makes it a big deal to me,” Tad pressed harder, “And no, I can’t stop. After I scrubbed off the dried blood on your face your lip started bleeding again, so it’s my responsibility as your parent to stop that.”

Bill rolled his eyes. The countertop was cold, and Bill could feel his arms going numb from being in a straitjacket. He was just praying that Tad wouldn’t notice the scrape on his leg from his little trip last night. Bill smirked at the memory.

∆∆∆

Bill tip-toed through the small motel that was Pine Tree’s current residence. Glancing over to the beds, Bill noticed the clear absence of the Pines twin of interest. Bill frowned. Where could he be? Shooting Star was there, snoring, but Pine Tree was nowhere to be seen. Bill huffed, pulling his note out of his pocket. Looking at it, Bill wondered if he had written enough to convey the right message. Bill shook his head. He needed to stop worrying. Pine Tree was smart, he needed to trust that.

Bill knelt down, placing the note on the floor, next to the empty bed. Realizing he had forgotten to breathe, Bill sucked in a breath. Bill wondered why he was even holding his breath. He had no reason to. Whatever, Bill shook it off, flesh bodies are weird.

A rustling passed through Bill’s ears. Suddenly alert, Bill stood quickly, and looked around. Shooting Star hadn’t moved. The doorknob. Bill gasped. The doorknob was rattling. Bill scrambled to the window. Pulling himself up, Bill practically threw himself outside. Falling to the ground with a thud, Bill forced himself to stand up again. Finding his footing, Bill turned to close the window. The door swung open. Bill ducked. Fine, forget the window.

Slowly, Bill stepped over to the side, pressing himself against the wall and peeking in. Pine Tree was slowly walking into the room, he had a sort of calm look to him, like he had been reassured of something. Bill squinted his eyes, watching him closely as the brunette stepped closer and closer to where Bill left the note. Finally, Pine Tree’s eyes caught on something. Yes! Pine Tree knelt down, peering at the floor. He picked up the note. Alright, he’s seen it. We can leave now, Bill told himself. Yet, he couldn’t leave. He was stuck, staring at the fixated expression on Pine Tree’s face. It was like his feet were suddenly glued to the ground. Bill didn’t want to leave. He had no idea what he wanted. He just didn’t want to take his eyes off Pine Tree.

Taking a deep breath, Bill tore himself away the only way he could, closing his eyes. After that, it was easy to turn his head away, easy to start walking away, easy to walk all the way back home. See you in two days, Pine Tree.

∆∆∆

“Ow!” Bill winced. Taken out of his head, Bill looked down at the block of ice in Tad’s hand. Tad had pressed the block against his lip. Bill frowned.

“Don’t move your head, this will help with the swelling,” Tad said, pressing the ice onto Bill’s lip again.

“Stop! That’s cold!” Bill squirmed.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you bit your lip.” Tad smiled. Bill pouted, which he immediately regretted as it made it much easier for Tad to put the ice directly onto Bill’s cut. “I know you don’t mean to, but you have to find some way to break this habit. It’s not good for you.”

Bill grumbled. Tad was great. He was kind, responsible, friendly, and reliable. It was incredibly annoying. Why must you always do what’s best for me? Bill asked in his head. After a few agonizing minutes, and Bill’s lip going numb, Tad finally pulled away. Standing up, Tad picked Bill up off the counter and set him in his wheelchair.

“Listen, I’m late for work. I love you, and I’ll see you this afternoon. Have a very lovely day.” Tad said, with an oddly angry tone as he wheeled Bill into the living room. After that, Tad snapped his fingers, transforming back into the boring man, and skipped over to the door. “Be good!”

Tad left. Bill sighed, and looked around. The house was still boring, but at least he had something to look forward to. Just tomorrow, and then the day after he will meet with Pine Tree. Bill thought of Tad’s departing words, and chuckled.

He will be anything but.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Part 1

Ice cold air pressed against Dipper’s skin. Breathing slow, Dipper watched his breath materialize in front of him with each exhale. It’s not often you get a negative sixteen degree night in early April, Dipper thought to himself, wistfully, then again, not much is normal around here. It was nearly two in the morning. Dipper was walking alone through the woods of Gravity Falls, searching.

As expected, the coordinates left on the note were for the exact location of Bill’s statue. That wasn’t a good sign. Dipper had practically assumed that’d be where the coordinates led to, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t keep his hopes up. Regardless, Dipper needed to know if Bill had truly returned. That was the only reason he was even going on this freezing late hour venture. He needed to be sure Bill was still far below six feet under, rotting in Hell. If Bill was back, there was no telling what kind of madness he’d bring about with him.

Flashlight in hand, Dipper took a deep breath as he made his way through the thicket of trees. Occasionally he’d catch the slight snap of twigs under his feet, but overall his attempts at silence were successful. He didn’t exactly want anyone to find him wandering about in the forest alone at night searching for the gravestone of a demon. He had just visited the statue two days ago. For some reason, he allowed himself to think that meant something, that it meant Bill was still gone and wouldn’t ever return. Dipper truly wanted to believe his fear of Bill’s return was all paranoia, but now he couldn’t deny it. If the note really was from Bill, and Dipper was really going to meet him… Dipper shivered, unsure if his quake was caused by his nerve, or the cold wind biting at his skin.

Finally making that last turn, finally pushing through that final bush which led Dipper to that familiar oasis. The opening in the woods where Bill’s statue resided. Once again, Dipper stood, face to face, with the one eyed weathered statue of Bill Cipher. At that moment, for some reason, the trees seemed taller than usual. In his mind, Dipper knew it was a mere illusion provided by the dark of night, but in his heart he could feel a great sense of foreboding.

Dipper looked around. There didn’t appear to be anyone there. Closing his eyes, Dipper listened quietly for any sound of presence. The crickets were chirping, bushes rustled with fairies and gnomes, all the normal sounds of the forest. Dipper took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and turned to leave.

“Morning, Pine Tree,” A solid voice broke through the air.

Dipper felt his blood go cold. That voice…

That nickname.

Dipper's blood went cold. Staring out into the open clearing, his eyes widened, and he clenched his jaw. He heard him. He heard Bill's voice. He took a deep breath, this was the moment. Bill was truly back... Dipper slowed his breathing to a steady pace. So what if he was back? He defeated him once he'll defeat him again! Bill couldn't hurt him anymore... at least that was what Dipper told himself.

“Where– Where are you!?” Dipper shouted out into the forest. "I know you're there, Bill." Dipper spoke coldly. The venom he held for Bill was not a venom he would hold back, and he hoped Bill could taste it in his voice.

It was really here, it was really happening… Bill Cipher has returned to Gravity Falls. Attempting to steady his breath, Dipper slowly turned back around to face Bill, although he only faced the cold stone statue of the familiar triangle.

"Is that so? Good to know, now we can actually get to business." Bill's high-pitched voice rang familiar in Dipper's ears, but something was different. His voice didn't echo in his head the way it used to.

"Business? What business! I don't have any business with you, Bill!" Dipper spat. Bill was ridiculous if he thought Dipper would ever make a deal with him again.

"Are you sure? I'm offering a pretty great deal here, and it'd be a real bummer on your part to turn it down." Bill hummed.

Dipper would have rolled his eyes if he weren't so angry.

"Enough games, Bill! What do you want and why are you here!?" Dipper shouted.

For just a moment, Dipper saw the glint of a dimly glowing, reflective yellow eye, peeking out from behind the triangular statue. Dipper looked closer, shining his flashlight at it. Of course, the moment he did, the eye swept back behind the statue.

"Answer my questions!" Dipper yelled.

"Fine, fine," Bill's voice rang, "But firstly, you're going to need to stop shining that light in my eye."

"Only if you come out of your hiding spot," Dipper retorted.

Bill hummed. In one swift motion, he appeared out from behind the statue. He had taken the body of a human, although Dipper didn't recognize who they were. Looking closely, the dark obscured most of the visual details Dipper could have normally extracted from their appearance. Focussing, he could see they had long pale-colored hair that fell in their face and, even tied up in a ponytail, swept the ground. They were more bottom heavy in regards to body shape. Dipper could only see one eye; the other left blurry and invisible to Dipper's diurnal eyes. They were wearing a yellow and black suit–Where did he even get that from?–and they supported themself on a black cane. For a moment, Dipper wondered if they had always needed it, or if Bill had done something awful to them. Dipper shuddered, remembering what it was like to be possessed by Bill.

"I know what you're thinking, Pine Tree, and for the record, this body is mine."

Dipper huffed. As if he was going to believe Bill. Besides, he could rescue that poor soul later, for now, he needed answers.

"Why are you here, Bill? You said you'd answer my questions, now do what you've never done, and make good on your word." Dipper was getting tired of Bill’s antics.

Bill hummed.

"Firstly, I'm always good for my word, it's not my fault if people interpret what I say differently than I do," Bill smiled wryly, "Secondly, I'm here because I'm out of options. I'm stuck here, and for a yet-to-be-determined time period, you're stuck with me.”

Dipper stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher Bill’s gaze for any deceit. His answer was vague, the more Dipper turned his words around in his head the more they didn’t make any sense.

“What do you mean ‘I’m stuck with you?’” Dipper asked.

Bill’s lips tightened into a thin smile, “I’m so glad you asked.”

Dipper glared, slightly confused. Bill stepped closer.

“I need you to do me a favor.”

Bill closed his eyes, putting a hand behind his back and stepping closer.

“There is something I want, that has been unfortunately put out of my reach…”

He stepped closer.

“...So you're going to go get it for me…”

Closer.

“...And I assure you, you won't like what I’ll do if you refuse.”

He opened his eyes. Bill was directly in Dipper’s face now, barely inches away, staring at him with big bug-like eyes. His mouth pulled into a smile, but his eyes were wide and crazed. It was only now that Dipper might be willing to believe this was a demon’s body. The eyes were too big, he had long pointy ears, and peaking through his open smile Dipper could clearly see sharp razor-like teeth. Dipper felt a growing lump in his throat. It suddenly felt hard to breathe.

“You’re going to help me, or I will unleash unspeakable horrors unto you and your family… Your choice.” Bill’s voice was sweet, sickeningly sweet. Dipper wanted so badly to wipe that prideful look off his face.

Feeling his heart accelerate, Dipper’s chest heaved as he tried to steady his breath.

“I will never help you…” Dipper said, under his breath.

“Are you sure about that?” Bill’s smile widened, only making the manic look in his eyes more apparent. Dipper heard soft giggles erupt in Bill’s throat. “Tell me, where is your sister? How about your dear great uncles?”

“No, I know what you’re doing, and I’m not going to let you trick me into helping you. I don't trust you.” Clenching his jaw, Dipper shook his head, stepping back. Bill was trying to confuse him; trying to make him sway.

Bill smiled, seeming to lean back a little. “Good.”

Balancing on his cane, Bill looked at Dipper with a strange look in his eyes. His eyes… He had magnetic eyes. Striking yet unrevealing. His iris seemed to leadingly spin counterclockwise around his slit pupil, sucking Dipper in deeper and deeper. Dipper felt frozen in place. Bill was being vague on purpose… he had to be. He wants to confuse him, he wants Dipper to question himself.

“What is it you want me to get?” Dipper asked. He had no intentions of truly helping Bill, but if he could make it seem as though he’s considering it, then maybe he could gather enough information to stop him.

“We’ll get to that later.” Bill turned away from Dipper, slowly stepping away.

“So you're not going to tell me?” Dipper almost laughed. Bill couldn't be so incredibly stupid as to think Dipper would steal something for him without knowing what it is. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I'll tell you when you need to know,” Bill said blankly.

“Okay, and when exactly is that?” Dipper huffed.

“When it becomes of your concern.”

Dipper could hear his teeth grinding together. I'm going to kill him. Again.

“Why can’t you get it yourself?” Dipper asked.

Bill bit his lip, “The thing withholding it from me… isn’t exactly my biggest fan. I’m not allowed in his domain, and even if I was, he’d know exactly why I was there.”

“To steal from him,” Dipper said, point-blank. Bill seemed annoyed at this.

“It’s not stealing,” Bill hissed, “It’s simply taking back what’s mine.”

To Dipper, those sounded like the same thing. Not that he suspected Bill to have a strong sense of morality… if any at all. Dipper pondered for a moment. With a physical form, it wouldn’t be hard for Bill to hurt him or his family, although, Dipper glanced at Bill, he doesn’t look very strong. Even so, Dipper couldn’t really take any chances; Bill was powerful. Even so, Dipper couldn’t ignore one glairing factor: Dipper still had no idea what Bill wants him to steal, and it seems like he’s purposely trying not to tell him.

“What is it you want me to take?”

Bill hummed. Dipper clenched his jaw.

“Bill,” Dipper repeated, “What do you want me to steal?”

“Something that was stolen from me, a long, long, time ago.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Dipper glared at the back of Bill’s head.

“It can’t be used to hurt anyone.”

“Bill.”

Bill finally turned back to Dipper, “Have you decided you’re going to help me?”

Dipper froze. Bill really wasn’t going to tell him… at least not until after he agreed to Bill’s deal. Dipper couldn’t agree… he couldn’t help Bill, but he needed answers… at least something to buy him some time. If only he could get close to Bill, maybe he could gather enough information to understand what Bill was planning, and maybe a way to defeat him permanently.

“Not… yet.” Dipper said slowly. He needed to be extremely circumspect with his words if he wanted to convince Bill.

Bill tilted his head, curiously. “Yet?”

“If you want me to help you, you have to prove I can trust you first.” Dipper stared at his hands, rubbing his palms with his fingers, feeling the rough grainy texture. “That means no games, no lies, and no threats.”

Dipper glanced up at Bill, who was staring at him strangely. He hummed. Dipper could feel himself sweating, Wasn’t it freezing just a second ago? He had no idea how Bill would react, and his expressionless face was no more revealing than a brick wall.

“Deal,” Bill stared blankly at Dipper, “And how exactly do you wish for me to prove my integrity?”

Dipper shifted his feet. He had to think quickly; Bill wasn't revealing anything.

“Over the next… three weeks, you and I will meet up every night, it doesn't really matter what we do. If by the end of the three weeks, you prove I can trust you, I'll help you. If not, I won't. It'll be a… trial run.”

Bill bit his lip again. He does that a lot. Is his lip bleeding? Dipper peered closely at Bill’s lips, his plump, red, soft-looking lips… Dipper paused, face going red. What the hell was he thinking? Sure, Bill’s humanoid form was attractive, really attractive, but Dipper would never consider– consider…

“Yes, that works.”

Dipper pulled out of his inner monologue. Bill agreed, he agreed. That’s good, that’s good. Dipper nodded.

“Let's meet up again,” Bill hummed, “Tomorrow night at… six minutes past twelve.”

“Okay.” Dipper shrugged.

He wasn’t really sure what to say. His stomach felt weird. Standing in front of him was Bill Cipher, a man who's tried to kill him, his family, and caused immeasurable pain and suffering… Yet, here he is, negotiating a deal with him. Remember, you're only in this for information, the moment you have everything you need, you can get rid of him for good. Dipper glanced up at Bill, at his blank soulless eye. Something about his eye… wasn't right.

Dipper guessed it was time to leave. Was he supposed to say goodbye? Talking to your arch nemesis isn't supposed to be this awkward. Without another word, Dipper turned around and left, just the way he came. Walking away, he could feel how Bill’s lead dead stare never left him, at least not until he was literally out of sight.

∆∆∆

When Dipper got back to the motel, he found Mabel crying in bed. Dipper rushed over to her.

“Mabel! Are you alright?” He asked.

She looked up at him. Her hair was a mess, she was still in her pajamas, and her eyes were full of tears. She jumped forward and hugged him.

“Woah, hey, what’s up? What’s going on? Did something happen?” Dipper tried to comfort her.

“I- I woke up… and you-you… you weren’t there! I didn’t know what to do, Dipper! I thought something bad happened.” She seemed to be trying to wipe away her tears, but it wasn’t helping. “So much has been going on lately, I just… I just…”

“Hey, hey,” Dipper hugged her tightly, “everything is okay. Nothing bad is going to happen. I’m sorry I made you worry, Mabel. I just… went on a nighttime walk, that’s all. I should’ve left a note. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He wiped away her tears. She pulled away.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I should’ve guessed that you were fine, I just… I don’t know. I- I just sorta freaked out. I… feel… silly… now, though.” He words were slow, and she stuttered quite a bit. Dipper frowned.

“No, it’s okay. If I had woken up in the middle of the night and couldn’t find you, I’d probably freak out too. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Dipper smiled at her. She tried to smile back. Dipper frowned, Mabel was right, everything happening lately was a complete mess. Dipper decided it definitely wasn’t the time to tell her about Bill. Actually, maybe I shouldn’t tell her at all… she’s been so stressed lately, she needs a– Dipper’s face lit up, he had an idea.

“What if, next Sunday, we have a– a– a fun day. We’ll invite Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica, and we’ll all go for… ice cream or something. We’ll have a chill day. No worries. How about that?” Dipper tried to explain the best he could.

Mabel wiped away her tears. “Yeah,” she said, nose stopped up, “that sounds nice.”

Mabel smiled, genuinely. That eased Dipper’s nerves, saying goodnight to his sister, and dragging himself to bed, Dipper felt a little lighter. At least he had something to look forward to now.

As Dipper laid down, resting his head against the warm comforts of his pillow, he came to an obvious yet baffling realization. He had just had a conversation with Bill Cipher. A conversation. With Bill. What? Dipper’s eyes suddenly couldn’t be forced to close. He was there, asking questions, negotiating a deal with the mad man who tried to kill him! Multiple times! What was he thinking? The conversation was so casual too! Hey, Bill, how’s it going? You free next weekend? Okay it didn’t go exactly like that, but still! He felt so calm! Why did he feel so calm talking with Bill!?

Dipper couldn’t describe how he was feeling if he tried. Why had it been so easy to talk to Bill? He had harder times talking to his own parents than he had with Bill. All of his questions came flooding into his head. Questions he should’ve asked when he was less than a foot away from the demon. Dipper remembered all the things Bill had done. What he did to Ford, tried to steal the code to Stan’s safe for Gideon, possessed Dipper’s body and beat it to a sleep deprived pulp, tricked Mabel into giving him the rift, everything from Weirdmageddon. Dipper felt sick.

Dipper felt strange. He couldn’t deny that Bill had always been incredibly charismatic, he was borderline charming even, but it wasn’t charmed that Dipper had felt, more like… pity? No, that’s not right. Why would he pity Bill? He caused the apocalypse! Dipper felt so tired… he was tired of thinking… he was tired of feeling. He closed his eyes, having lost the energy to ask himself anymore questions. He could think about how angry he was at himself tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Part 2

Bill waited quietly for Pine Tree's arrival. The night was cold. Unusually cold… Bill liked it. He felt his arms and legs erupt with goosebumps even under his clothes. It felt like the air was pricking his skin with thousands of tiny needles. Bill’s lips curled into a deranged smile, if only the sensation was a little harder. Bill licked his lips, imagining real needles piercing through his skin, feeling the blood slowly trickle out of his body. He craved that sensation. For now, though, he would have to appreciate the implausibly frigid summer night.

Sound broke the air. Leaves crunching, branches scraping against a moving object, the hard breathing against the thin night air. Bill leaned back, hiding his figure behind his statue. It seems his favorite puppet has arrived.

“Morning, Pine Tree,” A solid voice broke through the air.

Silence fell for several moments. Well, not quite silence. There was the sound of Pine Tree’s quick, hushed breathing growing more and more rapid. The sound of him shifting his feet over the dead grass. The sound of teeth clenching. The sound of his hand gripping his flashlight ever so tighter. Bill could hear Pine Tree take a deep breath, before speaking.

“Where– Where are you!?” Dipper shouted out into the forest.

Bill stared into the distance. He needed to think this out. Well, he needed to have thought this out far beyond this point, but hey, where’s the fun in life without a little improv? Bill thought, he had several tactics at his disposal. The chances of Pine Tree taking the bait were low… extremely low, so he needed to think carefully. Actually telling Pine Tree what he’d be stealing for him was a complete no-go, but how was he supposed to convince him without revealing the full picture? Bill bit his lip. For now, he needs to wait.

"I know you're there, Bill." Pine Tree was angry.

It’s not like Bill could blame him, really, all of this was his own fault. Bill took a deep breath, Come one, we’ve done this before… just gotta put on the winning smile! Bill forced his face into a smile, slightly praying he was actually doing it right, and that it wasn’t completely obvious he wasn’t really cheerful about the situation. Breathe. It’s showtime! Bill puffed up his chest, and raised his voice to its classic amused delight.

“Is that so?” Bill could hear his own voice, and could feel a rising bile crawl up his throat. He swallowed it, of course, but hearing his own voice sound so irrationally delighted, hearing how genuine it must sound, built such a deeply ingrained disgust inside of him he was surprised he could keep it up. The false air in his voice made him sick. “Good to know, now we can actually get to business."

"Business? What business! I don't have any business with you, Bill!" Pine Tree sounded even angrier. Bill thought of how sick it made him to hear his own voice; he wondered how much Pine Tree must hate hearing his voice even more.

"Are you sure? I'm offering a pretty great deal here, and it'd be a real bummer on your part to turn it down." Bill continued his forced smile, and puffed up chest, although it’s not like it mattered. Pine Tree couldn’t see him. Even still, Bill couldn’t play this part halfway, otherwise the illusion falls.

Bill could hear a light growl come from Pine Tree. "Enough games, Bill! What do you want and why are you here!?"

Bill needed to consider what he’d say. He couldn’t dance around the subject forever. Leaning on his statue, he felt the cold, damp stone scrape his fingers. He questioned. Should he risk it? He wasn’t keen on letting Pine Tree see him just yet. Biting his lip, again, Bill peaked past the statue to glimpse at Pine Tree. He had seen him earlier, in the car, but he wanted to get another look at him. At his face… just to see how it had changed. Staring at him for a moment, Bill had to admire the way his pale skin and blue eyes seemed to glow under the radiant light of the moon. Bill even glanced down at himself, at the way his yellow hair, black fingers, and yellow suit looked muddy and dim in the night air. Glancing back up, his eye was immediately met with a bright flashlight. Fuck, he noticed. Bill whipped back behind the statue, silently beating his forehead for his stupidity. Of course he noticed you staring, you moron, your eyes glow in the dark! Bill bit his fingers.

"Answer my questions!" Shouted Pine Tree.

“Fine, fine,” Bill pulled himself together, he needed to focus, “But firstly, you're going to need to stop shining that light in my eye."

"Only if you come out of your hiding spot.”

Well, shit. Bill bit his lip. There goes his plan of staying hidden. He hummed, and before letting his mind tell him all the reasons why he should not show himself to Pine Tree, he stepped out from behind the statue.

There was a long pause. Bill could feel his mouth filling up with blood from biting his lip at this point. He could feel the puppet’s eyes linger on him. What could he be thinking? Bill grimaced, but didn’t look down at himself. He knew how he must look. The way his knees shook just from the weight of standing, the way his hand gripped his cane for support, the way his figure curved and rounded, making him appear soft, the way his hips were wider than his shoulders, and Bill couldn’t ignore the fact that Pine Tree now stood at least a head above him. Bill’s face twitched. He knew he looked weak, he knew how he appeared to others. The fact that he had lost his powers didn’t help. This was exactly why Bill had resided in the form he did for so many years. No one looked at his glowing, all-seeing-eye, triangle self a weak. People didn’t stare or laugh at his triangle form; instead, it commanded respect. Although now, Bill was attached to his own body. His body that, without powers, was just as frail, and small, and soft as it looked, and Bill hated every bit of it.

He waited for Pine Tree to say something. Pine Tree seemed to merely stare at him, although his expression didn’t read as he had expected. Mostly, it was suspicion that crossed Pine Tree’s face, which raised an aspect that Bill hadn’t previously considered. Pine Tree probably didn’t think that this body was even his. The thought was almost comforting. Almost. Bill would have loved to tell Pine Tree that he stole this body from some poor helpless nobody. At least then he could avoid letting Pine Tree know that, yes, this useless, soft flesh-sack was his, and this is what he looked like. Unfortunately, he actually needs Pine Tree to help him, so convincing him that he was in a stolen body wasn’t the greatest idea. He needed to be, at least as far as Pine Tree can know, on his best behavior. Bleh, that thought feels icky. Besides, his body had some undeniably non-human characteristics that would be just a little too contrived to string up some excuse as to why they were actually normal.

"I know what you're thinking, Pine Tree, and for the record, this body is mine."

Pine Tree rolled his eyes. Well, Bill thought, It’s better than I had expected.

"Why are you here, Bill? You said you'd answer my questions, now do what you've never done, and make good on your word." Pine Tree was growing increasingly angry, and he was aggressively tapping his foot against the ground. Bill did not appreciate this.

"Firstly,” Bill clicked his tongue, pulling his smile back onto his face, “I'm always good for my word, it's not my fault if people interpret what I say differently than I do. Secondly, I'm here because I'm out of options. I'm stuck here, and for a yet-to-be-determined time period, you're stuck with me.”

“What do you mean ‘I’m stuck with you?” Pine Tree’s brows furrowed. Bill couldn’t tell if he was angry or confused. Likely both; Bill did tend to have that effect on people.

Now, it’s time. Bill widened his smile, “I’m so glad you asked.”

Bill stepped closer to Pine Tree. “I need you to do me a favor,” He said, calmly, closing his eyes for dramatic effect. “There is something I want that has been unfortunately put out of my reach, so you're going to go get it for me… and I assure you, you won't like what I’ll do if you refuse.”

Bill opened his eyes, finding himself barely inches away from Pine Tree’s face. Funnily, he could actually see his face much more clearly like this. The light that radiated from Bill's eyes had managed to illuminate both their faces in close proximity. Bill stared unblinkingly at the intricacies of his face. His pale face was lightly dusted with small gray freckles, although Bill didn’t think anyone would be able to see unless they were as close as he was. His cheeks and nose had become red from the cold. Hiding behind his soft, curly, brown hair, peeked out the thin traces of a star birthmark. Had he always had that? Pine Tree’s piercing blue eyes seemed to drill holes into him.

“You’re going to help me,” Bill spoke softly, leaving traces of some kind of innocence in each word, as if hoping to instill a different kind of fear, when he said, “or I will unleash unspeakable horrors unto you and your family… Your choice.”

Bill could hear the sound of Pine Tree’s heart, and in his own chest he felt a painful tug. He wanted to reach over, to place his ear against the human’s chest and simply listen to it. It was a desire written in his bones; carnal, he needed to hear the sound of a beating heart. The sound of being alive. What a wonderful thing that must be, Bill thought, to be alive. He could feel the piercing stare of Pine Tree, he could feel the hatred seeping out of the human’s core, and yet, even that seemed so beautiful to Bill. To hate something with such a passion, it sent shivers up and down Bill’s spine, not that he’d let it show.

“I will never help you.” Pine Tree stated, his breath shaking with loathing. Bill liked the sound. He knew he deserved it.

“Are you sure about that?” Bill asked. He would convince Pine Tree to help him, one way or another, “Tell me, where is your sister? How about your dear great uncles?”

Looking back, Bill might have wanted to anger Pine Tree. No, take that back, he definitely wanted to anger him. Maybe he just liked knowing he faced every ounce of comeuppance that he knew he deserved. Maybe he wanted to provoke Pine Tree into hurting him. Pain was like a drug for Bill, and he wanted to overdose so badly it choked his lungs and left him gasping.

“No,” Pine Tree stepped back, pulling away from Bill’s instigation. “I know what you’re doing, and I’m not going to let you trick me into helping you. I don't trust you.”

Bill leaned back. Right, of course, Bill smiled, You’re too smart for that aren’t you?

“Good.”

“What is it you want me to take?”

Bill’s ears perked up. Surely he hasn’t already agreed? Bill eyed him quizzingly. He still didn’t want to tell Pine Tree what it was he needed him to steal, but still, it was worth pursuing if it meant Pine Tree’s cooperation. “We’ll get to that later.”

“So you're not going to tell me?” Pine Tree did that thing that humans do sometimes, where they laugh, but they’re not really happy, they’re actually angry, and don’t actually care about hiding that they are angry.

“I'll tell you when you need to know,” Bill shrugged.

“Okay, and when exactly is that?”

“When it becomes of your concern.” Was Bill being subtle at the fact he wanted to change the subject? No. Was it slightly amusing to hear Pine Tree’s teeth very audibly grind against one another? Also no, but was Bill fully willing to continuously keep up this song and dance up until it was a likely requirement for gaining Pine Tree’s aid? Yes, yes he was.

“Why can’t you get it yourself?”

“The thing withholding it from me… isn’t exactly my biggest fan. I’m not allowed in his domain, and even if I was, he’d know exactly why I was there.” Bill looked at his nails, sharp and deadly. He didn’t like much about his body, but he did like his nails.

“To steal from him?”

“It’s not stealing,” Bill corrected, “It’s simply taking back what’s mine.”

That was true. What Bill desired belonged to him, and although he had technically sold it to the Axolotl, his wish would be reversed the moment he got it back anyway, so it wasn’t really stealing, more like… returning a broken product for your money back.

“What is it you want me to take?”

Why must you be so persistent?

“Bill, what do you want me to steal?”

He’s not going to give up. Bill bit his lip. A vague answer would be better than no answer, surely? “Something that was stolen from me, a long, long, time ago.” That was true.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Have you tried not asking the question anymore? Bill rolled his eye. “It can’t be used to hurt anyone.” Also true.

“Bill.”

Groaning, Bill turned to Pine Tree, not trying to hide his annoyance at this point. “Have you decided you’re going to help me?”

Pine Tree paused. He stared at Bill incredulously. Bill couldn’t understand what was so difficult to understand. What Pine Tree would be taking was a Need-to-know basis, and he didn’t need to know.

“Not… yet.”

Bill tilted his head. “Yet?” He thought… or maybe he said it out loud… he couldn’t tell.

“If you want me to help you, you have to prove I can trust you first. That means no games, no lies, and no threats.”

Okay… Bill was intrigued, at least. Pine Tree was sweating, a symptom that could only come from nervousness, Bill knew. Not because of any particular thing Pine Tree had done, but just that it was still very cold, and heat and nervousness were the only two things Bill was aware caused sweating in humans.

Bill bit his lip. Pine Tree seemed unsure, which was likely why he was stalling, but… Bill hummed. He was hiding something. Some kind of plot? Well, only one way to find out.

“Deal.”

Bill jumped. He hadn’t expected the words to come out of his mouth so soon, so sure. He should probably be more skeptical… but this was likely as close as he was going to get at coaxing Pine Tree into helping him, at least for tonight.

What does he mean by proving my trustworthiness? It’s not like it’s really possible. Pine Tree is smart, surely he realizes the paradox of that statement, right? No matter what I say or do, any action I take to prove my worth, Pine Tree would know that gaining his trust was the goal, and thus he’ll never trust me… Then again, I don’t really have another option.

“How exactly do you wish for me to prove my integrity?” He asked.

Pine Tree shifted around. This would be so much easier if he could make a single decision without being so obviously wary of every possible outcome. Clearly, despite looking older than Bill at this point, he hadn’t yet learned how to mask his emotions… or to fake them.

“Over the next… three weeks, you and I will meet up each night, it doesn't really matter what we do. If by the end of the three weeks, you prove I can trust you, I'll help you. If not, I won't. It'll be a… trial run.”

Bill bit his lip… again. He was almost sure his mouth had to be visibly leaking blood at this point. Dammit, if he was going to keep up his guise towards Pine Tree, he was going to have to overcome this nervous habit. Nervous? No, it wasn’t a nervous habit, that’s crazy. I’m not crazy, you’re crazy!

“Yes, that works.” Bill agreed. “Let's meet up again… tomorrow night at… six minutes past twelve.”

“Okay.” Dipper shrugged.

Yes! They had a time. Everything was going according to plan. This was not the plan. Everything was going perfect! This wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all. Everything is perfect. Bill smiled; Pine Tree left. He watched him walk away until he disappeared behind the trees, which is a very normal thing to do. Alone, Bill made his way back home.

Bill crawled in through his window, lightly treading across the floor, hiding his cane, and squirming back into that dreaded straitjacket. Just as he did every time he snuck in. Crawling into bed, Bill allowed his heavy eyelid to close shut. He knew it’d be mere a few hours before Tad woke him up for breakfast. Even so, with his plan now at least partially in action, maybe he’ll be able to enjoy his pancakes a little better than usual.

∆∆∆

He was wrong. Mornings were a dreaded experience for only roosters and Tadpoles to experience with semblance of joy. Bill sat, eye dry and tired, at the breakfast table as Tad sang human show tunes while making bacon. Bill silently reminded himself that he did in fact love Tad… and did not want to beat him with a chair when he woke him up at six in the morning singing songs that only Tad would sing. Although, the daily forehead kiss before Tad left for work was slightly more appreciated than most mornings, Bill having afforded Tad a smile before he left.

Although, Bill knew he could not afford Tad more than a smile.

He could fake his emotions for Pine Tree. He could fake it for anyone.

But not Tad.

He won’t fake emotion for Tad.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Part 1

Dipper and Mabel waited in the living room for Stan. It had already been decided that he had to contact Dipper and Mabel’s parents to let them know the twins were safe. Not that they’d really care, Dipper thought, I know I shouldn’t think it but… Dipper shook his head. Stan was on the phone, in the kitchen, calmly explaining the situation to their parents. Even in the next room, Dipper could hear his father screaming through the phone. He wondered how Stan managed to keep his composure; Dipper would have lost it. Maybe it was age. Yeah, age.

Dipper glanced down at Mabel. She was knitting a sweater, a tired look in her eyes. Holding a continuous blank stare while her knitting needles rapidly clicked together. He wondered how she was doing. He thought back to that night, how she had been so shaken up that he hadn’t been there. He knew she was trying to keep it together, and it was hard for her, but she was trying. Lately he’d look at her and not be able to tell what she’s feeling at all, which felt strange, because she was usually so expressive. It worried him to see her with this blank, dead expression on her face. That was exactly why he had decided for them to go out Saturday with her friends. It was only Tuesday, but still, he had to prepare for what he was going to do.

“Now, if you’ll just listen—” Dipper could hear Stan raise his voice from the kitchen. He leaned against the wall, “Look, I know this is hard for you, but the kids are safe, isn’t that all that matters?”

Dipper could hear screaming coming from the phone. He couldn’t tell what it was saying, and to be honest he didn’t want to. He was sure it was plenty of the same things they had been blowing up his and Mabel’s phones about. Maybe even the same things they had said the night the twins left. Dipper scowled. He just wanted this to be over.

“Look, they’re in good hands— I know, I know. Look, you can pick them up at the end of Summer, just like yo—” Stan was immediately cut off by more screaming after that. Dipper felt bad. He knew Stan was trying his best to help them, but still, Dipper couldn’t help but feel guilty for subjecting Grunkle Stan to the wrath of his parents. “If it’s really so important, why don’t you come up here, and get them yourself?” No, Dipper protested, although only in his mind. The last thing he wanted was for his parents to show up in Gravity Falls. Unless maybe it was to get immediately eaten by a sasquatch, or have their memories wiped. Okay that might be a little harsh, but Dipper didn’t want them to come here. Not only will they drag him and Mabel back to California and never let us return, but Gravity Falls was his and Mabel’s safety. They weren’t supposed to be there.

Suddenly, Dipper heard a loud ‘clang’. Stan must’ve slammed the phone down. A moment after, he emerged from the kitchen. Taking one look at Dipper’s expression, he said:

“I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Stan sighed.

Dipper only nodded. He wasn’t really sure what else he was supposed to do. His parents were relentless. He glanced over to Mabel, who didn’t look much different in expression, but Dipper had noticed she had started to knit much faster.

“You alright, Pumpkin?” Stan’s gruff voice softened slightly as he turned to Mabel.

“Mm-hmm.”

Dipper grimaced. This isn’t right, he told himself, It’s not fair that they get to take this from us, from her! He sighed. Truthfully, he just hated seeing her like this. Mabel had a tendency to either be overflowing with emotion, or to have seemingly turned them off. It was almost scary. It was scary, to people who didn’t know her. Dipper turned to Stan.

“So,” He crossed his arms, “Are they coming?”

Stan shook his head, “Nope. Said they had busy schedules… didn’t have time to drive up to Oregon. They wanted me to drive you two back there.”

Dipper froze. Mabel nearly dropped her needles, her eyes slowly lifting from the yard and onto their Grunkle’s aged face..

Sensing the tension, Stan clarified, “Which I told them I would do at the end of Summer.”

Dipper felt his shoulders relax, if only slightly, and he could hear when Mabel started knitting again. There was a long, awkward silence. He was happy to have the summer, but then again, he wasn’t. He didn’t want to go back to his parents.

“At the end of Summer we’ll be adults, we don’t have to go back.” Mabel’s voice croaked.

Dipper’s eyes widened. He and Stan both turned to Mabel, who continued to knit without another word. Dipper’s mouth was slightly agape, and Stan’s eyes went wide. Technically, Mabel was right. Once she and Dipper were legal adults they had no obligation to go back home. It had been a fact they were both aware of, but Dipper had assumed that neither of them would’ve liked to bring it up. She had been so uncertain this whole time, and Dipper knew that she was still uncertain now, but it seems she knows just as well as he does: They can’t go back, not after this.

Stan took a deep breath. “Well, I decided to leave that part out. They weren’t exactly in a good mood, you see.” He scratched the back of his neck. Dipper smiled, and he could see Mabel’s bottom eyelid lift for a moment. Stan cleared his throat, “Alright, Mystery Shack opens in two hours, chop chop!”

The twins quickly jumped into action. Dipper would be lying if he said he wasn’t eager to start his shift. He didn’t exactly like working, but monotonously sweeping, dusting, and stocking shelves was just enough to take his mind off everything. It made things feel more normal. Besides, just being back in the Mystery Shack comforted Dipper. It was familiar, even more familiar than their house in California.

Mabel sat at the cash register, talking to customers. It was almost uncanny watching her smile and laugh so genuinely, even though Dipper knew she wasn’t feeling okay at all. Every so often, Dipper would glance over to the vending machine. Ford was in his lab, no doubt. Dipper hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to him very much since arriving; he wondered when they’d be able to go on another adventure together. He also debated whether or not to tell Ford about Bill.

On one hand, Ford had a lot of experience with the triangle, and could give Dipper insight on how to correctly coax Bill into slipping out his plan. On the other hand, Ford hated Bill on a lethal level. Dipper had a plan to stop Bill, and it required finesse. He’ll have to work with Bill, find out what he’s planning, and find a way to end him once and for all, which could require close observation. Ford would be more likely to point a gun at Bill’s head the moment he came into sight before being willing to work with him. Even if it could get him more valuable information. It wasn’t that Ford wasn’t smart, he was smart, he was just stubborn, and, Dipper had learned over the years, often uncooperative. The more he thought about it, the more it appeared blatant that Dipper would have to do this alone. Not to mention, Ford really wouldn’t like the idea of Dipper working with Bill without his guidance.

Dipper sighed, and continued sweeping. He wasn’t going to have Ford’s help with this.

∆∆∆

Mabel smiled, greeting a customer while counting their change. She remarked on the weather, to which the customer nodded and took their money. Mabel did this over, and over, and over, till the end of the day. She’d smile, greet people, help them look for something, count their change, and make random small talk that was utterly pointless other than to break awkward tension with strangers. It was tiring, but Mabel did find it more enjoyable than sitting around the motel and reflecting on the past few days. Mabel never considered herself a brooder, but lately she had become a strong contender for one. That almost made her laugh. Almost.

At times, in between talking to customers, Mabel could feel her stomach churn. She thought about her parents, which made her feel sick, and she thought about being in Gravity Falls again, which made her feel more sick because she knew that she was only here because she had drastically betrayed her parents and made them probably hate her forever. Squirming in her seat, she had to remind herself not to catastrophize too much. Sure, she ran away from home after her parents specifically asked her not to leave, and now every word she’s heard from them since then has been a violent scream of anger, and there was a good chance she was never going home again, but it wasn’t too bad!? After all, she was back with her Grunkles, and her friends! As long as she had the people who cared about her near, she’d be okay. Dear god, I hope we’ll be okay.

2:04 P.M

Mabel and Dipper’s shifts were over, Dipper had decided to stay around for a while, to talk to Ford. Mabel had decided to wander around the Mystery Shack. Waiting by the vending machine, Dipper wondered if he should just go down there, or if he should wait for Ford to come out. If he went in, he risked interrupting something important, and if he waited, there was a good chance he’d be waiting all day. In the end, he had decided to interrupt whatever was keeping Ford.

Meanwhile, Mabel had made her way up to their old bedroom. Pushing open the door, the old rusted hinges made a loud ‘creak’. Stepping in, her mind flooded with memories. The smell of old wood and mold hit her senses like a blanket. Rays of sunlight flooded into the room through the triangular mirror, Mabel could see small dust particles floating in the air, glittering under the sun. Two beds set on opposite sides of the room, one of which covered in stickers and crayon. Mabel stepped further inside, avoiding certain floor boards she knew would make sound from memory. The room was virtually untouched from the moment the twins had left the previous summer. Mabel sighed. How different it was back then? Only a year ago… not even a year ago, really.

Before she could realize the salty liquid building in her eyes, Mabel could feel tears dripping down her face. Her hands suddenly seemed clammy, and she felt awkward. This used to be her and Dipper’s room, but it couldn’t be anymore.

Mabel could feel her heart beating faster than it had a moment ago. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned around and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Mabel continued to wander around the Mystery Shack’s labyrinth-like layout, stopping in rooms that used to feel familiar, but now felt distant, trapped in a fog of a nostalgia she could no longer reach.

∆∆∆

Dipper watched as the little arrow at the top of the elevator went from one, to two, to three, where he knew Ford was.

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Dipper stepped into the messy lab. Five years ago, this floor held an interdimensional portal capable of tearing apart the fabric of the universe. Now, the portal pieces lay dismantled in a heaping, yet slowly shrinking, pile in one corner of Ford’s remodeled lab. Scanning the room, Dipper spotted Ford frantically writing something down, head occasionally popping up to look at his computer screen. His hair was a mess, and Dipper could tell he had just shaved, because he had a fresh burn on his left cheek. Ford hadn’t noticed Dipper’s arrival yet.

“Hey, Grunkle Ford,” Dipper shifted his feet uncomfortably. “What’re you up to this time?”

Ford jumped, slightly. He turned around to face Dipper, face immediately brightening when he saw him.

“DIPPER!” The old man exclaimed, standing up and approaching the young Pines twin. Pulling him into a tight hug, Ford said, “It's good to see you! How are you?”

Dipper stumbled backwards as Ford let go. He wasn't expecting so much enthusiasm. Especially considering the tone of their last conversation. Dipper wondered if maybe Stan had said something to Ford to make him act this way. That sounded like something Stan would do, but it was also possible Ford just got wrapped up in what he was doing and had already forgotten about the situation with Dipper's parents. That also sounded like something Ford would do. Dipper smiled.

“So what're you working on?” Dipper asked, as he didn't get an answer the first time around.

“Oh, several things, several things, as usual,” Ford mumbled, “Trying to make sense of the nonsensical.”

Dipper laughed, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “I get the feeling.”

A long silence passed. Neither Dipper nor Ford said anything. Dipper remembered the deal he had made with Bill. Dipper had decided not to tell Ford about it. Partly because Dipper thought his plan would work best if he was on his own, but also because if Ford knew, he'd be pissed.

Ford tapped his fingers against the table, he looked like he was deep in thought.

“Any adventures planned out?” Dipper asked, half-smiling. Ford huffed.

“Only a hundred.” He turned around to face Dipper, and he could see the sly grin that had taken over the expression. “I've missed you.”

Dipper smiled.

“I missed you too, Grunkle Ford.” Dipper leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “By the way, how was your trip with Stan this year?”

“Ha! It went the same as it usually does. We explored far off lands, ran into some paranormal activity, Stanley got distracted by mermaids…”

Dipper laughed. Some things never change. He supposed that was what he liked about it though. Gravity Falls never really seemed to change. Even though more people came, and new buildings were built, it was just as weird as it had always been. Gnomes still scurried around town, although now that the society of the blind eye was gone, it was getting harder and harder to keep them a secret. Every once in a while, Dipper would come across a manotaur in the woods. Just about every week there was a new mystery to solve, some funny, some boring, some scary, and the vast majority were just weird. Dipper liked it though. He liked that Gravity Falls was still weird; he liked weird. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get a thrill out of solving mysteries.

“Are you doing anything later this evening?” Ford asked. “I’ve noticed some strange things happening in the forest lately, and I was considering setting up cameras to collect data.”

“Sorry, no can do.” Dipper frowned. “Me and Mabel made plans to go check out an apartment in town this afternoon.”

“Oh, well that’s good. You two are going to need a place to stay. Of course you’re welcome to stay here, but considering the situation with your parents that’s likely not a good idea.” Ford scowled.

“Yeah…” Dipper hated that he had to agree, but the truth was that their parents had likely already tried to get the police involved, and the Mystery Shack would be the first place to find them. Even worse, they could try and spin some narrative where Stan and Ford had kidnapped the twins and have them arrested. They were definitely crazy enough to try it, plus Dipper’s mom was a lawyer, so it’d probably work. It was best if the twins found their own place. Besides, they were seventeen, in a few years, they’d be looking for their own place anyway.

Ford hummed. “Maybe another time then. Trust me, I’ve got plenty of adventures planned for us!”

Dipper smiled. Things will work themselves out, he told himself, just stop worrying.

If only it were so easy.

∆∆∆

Dipper and Mabel walked to town. Gravity Falls was small enough, they really didn't even need a car. Mabel walked slightly faster than Dipper, as she always had. Although, now her eyes seemed to be firmly planted on the ground, not looking where she was going. Dipper worried that she'd run into something at some point, but she never did. Her hands also rested in her pockets for most of the walk. She didn’t say anything, just continued pacing forward, not looking around or back.

“Hey, Mabel, are you okay?” Dipper asked, trying to match her pace.

“Mm-hmm.”

Dipper looked at his sister with worry. She’s been acting so strange lately. He worried about her; the most emotional he’s seen her as of late was crying, and that bothered him more than he could explain. He placed a hand on her shoulder, halting her from walking any further.

“Mabel! Are you okay? I know you’re trying to keep it together, but I’m worried about you!” Dipper exclaimed. Mabel turned to face him, and she smiled. She placed her hand on top of Dipper’s.

“I’m okay, Dipper, really. I think I just needed a moment, but I’m okay now, see?” Mabel spread a wide grin across her face. Dipper’s face softened, but his nerves hadn’t quite left. Even though she was smiling, Dipper could see her eyes were puffy and bloodshot; she looked tired too.

“Okay, Mabel,” Dipper said. He decided it might be best to leave it for now. Mabel had her own way of processing things, maybe he just needed to give her time.

When they arrived at the address Pacifica had given Mabel, they were pleasantly surprised. The apartment wasn’t big, obviously, but the layout of the building seemed to make the most of the small space. It wasn’t very dirty, and was already furnished, which was a huge bonus considering Dipper and Mabel couldn’t have exactly packed their beds when they left California. It had light blue walls, hardwood floors, two bedrooms with a bed and dresser, and the living room had a couch and a coffee table. Dipper was honestly really surprised that the place was as cheap as it was. The landlord seemed nice, although Dipper questioned if he really knew what he was talking about.

They had filled out some forms, and the landlord said they’d be able to move in in a few days. They shook hands, and left.

“That went well,” Mabel said, cheerfully. She seemed to have regained her usual skip in her step. Literally and metaphorically. “That place seems really nice, considering what we’re getting it for.”

Dipper nodded his head, “Yeah, let’s just hope we don’t find a heaping pile of mold under the sink when we finally move in.”

“Pfft, you’re too paranoid!” Mabel brushed him off.

“Maybe you’re not paranoid enough,” Dipper teased. Mabel laughed. He felt good. Things were finally going their way. Their parents wouldn’t be here till the end of summer, they were getting an apartment, even Mabel seemed happier. The only downside was… Dipper frowned.

Bill.

Does he have to ruin everything?

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Part 2

Bill was alone. Tad had left for work several hours ago, and Bill was alone, lying on his bed. He stared at the ceiling. Tonight he’d sneak back out to visit Pine Tree again, so at least he had that to look forward to. Wait, Bill thought, He said we’d meet every night for three weeks, but was he counting that time? Plus, it was two in the morning, so technically it was already today… So do we meet tonight or tomorrow night? Bill’s head hurts. These were the kind of questions he should’ve asked when they met in the clearing! Bill groaned.

Bill sat up, contemplating what to do. He could go out and look for more materials he’ll need for opening the portal to the Axolotl’s domain, but Bill was slowly wondering what exactly he was going to do during his meetings with Pine Tree. Pine Tree had said it didn’t matter, but it does! If they just stood around each other and talked a bit it’d be so boring! Also, Bill was not very likely to gain the human’s trust by just talking to him, Pine Tree was too smart for that.

Speaking of which, Bill had absolutely no idea how he was going to do that. Did he have to perform some big gesture to earn Pine Tree's trust? That wouldn't make sense. No matter what he did, Pine Tree would always be under the presumption that Bill was only doing it to gain his trust, which Bill wouldn't even be able to disprove because it would be true. Besides, what in the multiverse could convince Pine Tree to trust him? The worst part was that Bill would have to wait till that night to get a straight answer, if he even could get an answer. Bill bit his lip, and then stopped himself. He needed to break this habit; else Pine Tree might start to think he’s weak. Ha! Bill Cipher. Weak. It was laughable! Bill didn’t laugh.

Turning around in his bed, Bill groaned louder. He hated being alone. He hated a lot of things, but being alone… was the worst. No one to talk to. No one to keep you company. Just alone. Quiet. Alone.

Quiet.

Alone.

"I have got to find something to do."

Bill sat up. He looked around his room. There wasn't much, just clothes, and a few papers from the mental hospital where he was kept throughout the majority of his trial. He remembered how much he hated it there. Being forced to lay around and do nothing, while a bunch of people who hate you decide whether or not they should kill you. He didn't spend a lot of time actually in the courtroom. He was there to testify for himself (not that there was much he could say in his defense), and when they told him his punishment. For the most part, he was hardly there. He knew Tad had defended him, probably the only one who did. He knew pretty much everything that was said during the trial, and mostly by who. He just wasn't there. He had heard recordings, been visited by a few people, mostly just to tell him how much they hated him now that he couldn't do anything about it… but no one actually trusted him to be there.

Bill guessed it wasn't because anyone actually suspected he'd do anything terrible. For the few parts of the trial he actually attended, he was restrained to the point of excessiveness. No, it was more likely they assumed that no one would want to testify against him if they knew he was there, watching them, likely making plans on how to kill them once all of it was dealt with. Out of the thousands of trillions of people he's hurt, only a few hundred thousand actually showed up to the trial to testify. Out of that hundred thousand, only a thousand willingly revealed their identities to Bill, the rest wished to remain anonymous. Out of that thousand, only fourteen people wanted to see him in person.

“Why is this still a conversation!? Just kill him already! He deserves it after everything he’s done!” That was what his older brother, Kill, had said at the trial. Well, he had said a few other things too, but Bill preferred not to think about those… He remembered the way Kill looked at him, like he was the most accursed thing in existence. Bill couldn’t exactly pretend like he disagreed. Still, there was something else in that look, something Bill didn’t recognize. Amongst all the hatred, and disgust, there was something else in the way Kill looked at him that didn’t seem the same.

Bill laughed. He was probably just imagining it; grasping at straws to somehow defend the idea that his brother still loved him. He pushed his thoughts aside. If he was honest, he'd much rather forget the whole experience. He wanted to forget everything.

He walked to the living room. Tad didn't have a television; he did have three whole bookshelves filled to the brim with books. Bill took a deep breath and looked over each of the books. He brushed his hands over the spines of the books and pulled one out. He read the synopsis on the back and then put it back on the shelf. He did this a few more times, before ultimately deciding that Tad had terrible tastes in books, and Bill needed to find something else to occupy himself.

He found a few board games in a closet, but they were all multiplayer. Why would someone who lives alone need multiplayer board games? What's the point of that! Bill found some playing cards, but he really didn't like solitaire. Actually, it would be more accurate to say the game fundamentally repulsed him on a level so intense it could not possibly be comprehended by the human mind. Well, it might be. Humans are usually pretty good at hating things.

Eventually, Bill sauntered into the kitchen. He wasn't sure why. It's not like he needed to eat. Besides, if he ate anything while Tad was gone, Tad would realize that Bill wasn't staying in his straitjacket. Instead, Bill just sat on the floor, juggling oranges. It actually kept him occupied for a while, but then he dropped one and it bruised. He decided he should put them back before he left more traces of his meddling presence.

Tad had an office, Bill discovered. There were more books in there, but Bill had already discovered Tad's terrible taste, and he didn't really care to discover it again. Bill went over and studied Tad's desk. It was meticulously organized, minus from at least seventeen different empty teacups strayed in the corners. Bill stifled a chuckle. So predictable. He opened one of the drawers. It was mostly office supplies, but Bill did find a notebook.

He held the notebook, staring at it for a moment. Should he look inside? On one hand, it would be a huge invasion of Tad's privacy, but on the other hand, Bill was bored. He opened the notebook. It was… phone numbers, mostly. Phone numbers, emails, grocery lists, to-do lists, and an occasional note reminding him to water his plants. Bill’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Tad, you are an enigma, Bill thought.

Bill was about to put the notebook back where he found it when he realized that something had fallen out of it. Setting the notebook on the ground, Bill bent over and picked it up off the floor. It was… a photograph. There were six people in it. In the middle, was Tad’s human form, the boring one. He was smiling. Next to him, sat Question Mark and Spectacles, who were also smiling. Tad had his arms around them. There was also a large man with red hair and a beard, standing behind him and… holding up an axe, for some reason. Finally, sitting together in one corner, was a couple wearing matching sweater vests. The man was holding a coffee cup that said, ‘coffin break’.

“Heh, weird.” Bill smiled, putting the photo back into the notebook.

As he walked out of Tad’s office, he got a strange feeling in his gut. He looked back to the office. He thought about the photo. Why did Tad have a photo of him and five random people in his house? Were they his friends? Did Tad have friends? Bill looked around. The inside of Tad’s house was equally as boring as the outside. Which didn’t make sense, the outside was all humans would see unless…

Bill’s breathing became heavy. He went back to the game closet. All multiplayer games. Those people in the photo were Tad’s friends. Bill clenched his fists. Of course Tad has friends, you idiot! Bill bit his lip again, no longer caring about breaking his habit. He’s lived here as a human for years! It only makes sense he’d have friends.

Bill begrudgingly went back to his room. He wasn’t sure why the prospect of Tad having human friends bothered him so much. He was glad Tad had a social group to hang out with, but how come they haven’t come over? How come Bill hadn’t seen or met them? He’d been living with Tad for a while now, and—

Oh… Bill stopped himself. He was why Tad’s friends never came around. Bill couldn’t disguise himself as human, and even if he could, having a teenager in a straitjacket and wheelchair living in your house probably wasn’t the best look for someone who wanted to seem as normal as possible. Not to mention, Bill wasn’t exactly a socialite. Sure, he made friends with monsters, but they were weird and crazy, like Bill was. Bill was terrible at talking to normal people. He’d probably say something weird, and then Tad’s friends wouldn’t want to hang out with him anymore because they wouldn’t want to be around Bill. Bill wondered if Tad felt lonely without any friends around. Surely, Tad knew all of this? Of course he did, that’s why he hasn’t brought them around.

Did… did Tad think he was a burden?

B V H

Bill stopped. He stared at the floor. Tad was all he had. Tad was the only person in the world who still seemed to care about him. If he started to hate him like everyone else. Bill could feel his breath quicken in his chest. Standing in the hall, the walls seemed to turn black with mold, and there was a deep red liquid dripping from the ceiling. Body swaying, legs wobbling, it felt like the floor was spinning. The halls around him distorted.

2 21 18 4 5 14

Bill stumbled, trying to make his way back to his room. The hallway was getting longer and longer. Frantically looking around, eyeless faces seemed to be crawling out of the walls. Their tortured expressions trapped behind wallpaper. Breaking free, the faces came closer and closer. They had no body, just long, bony, spindle-like broken necks connecting them back to the wall. They came closer and closer. Smiling. They were smiling and staring directly at him. Their eyes were covered by skin, and even still he knew they were looking at him.

R H N ‘ K X T I K H U E X F

"G–get away! Get away from me!" Bill shouted, voice cracking.

Z X X F I H V W X I V Z G F I V

He dropped his cane and fell backwards. As the heads got ever closer to him, red liquid dripping from their open smiling mouths, Bill curled up on the floor. He covered his head and stared at the floor.

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There was screaming all around him. They were screaming. They were screaming at him. They were so close.

Z N B E M R

Tears burned his eyes as he clenched them shut. He started to walk away; he didn't look behind him. He didn't dare.

T F R O G B

"They're not real, they're not real, they're not real," Bill chanted his mantra over and over again, closing his eyes. He could feel them getting closer, hovering over him. He covered up his ears, but the screaming didn't get any quieter.

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“It’s not real! It’s not real!” Clenching his eyes shut, his head felt as though it were about to implode.

N G E H O X W

Pushing his body up, Bill tried to stand up. Pain shot through his legs, and his knees collapsed, hitting the ground. Laughing. They were laughing now. Bill gritted his teeth. Bloody red eyes popped out from under the carpet, with long bony arms reaching up to grab him. Bill panicked, and tried to stand up again. His legs wobbled and ached without the support of his cane. His body collapsed, hitting the wall, and the arms grabbed at him.

S Z G V W

Bill flailed his body, they were grabbing him, pulling him down. Their claws seemed to be digging into his skin, but he couldn’t feel the pressure. Bill closed his eyes. With his eyes closed, he saw bright flashes of red blood splattering against a surface, and random spinning shapes.

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The screeching only got louder and louder, and higher pitched. Bill opened his eyes and there were spiders and insects crawling up his arm. He squirmed. Crawling forward, Bill closed his eyes again, trying to feel his way through the hall. His head felt like it was going to split open, and he could see a kaleidoscope of colors flashing his eyes while they were closed. He gritted his teeth and crawled forward. He could feel a building desire to break something.

R H N T K X U K H D X G

At some point, he felt the carpet turn to wood. Bill tried to picture the house’s layout in his mind, so he’d know where he was. Bright neon shapes and colors spun and flickered behind his eyes. He couldn’t focus, but he couldn’t bear to open his eyes again! Shapes were better than monsters… colors were better than bodies.

B L F P R O O V W G S V N

His entire body was trembling, and his throat seemed to close up and constrict his breathing. Sitting up, he brought his hands up to his mouth, biting hard into his fingers. His sharp teeth cut through the skin of his hands easily, and as his mouth filled with blood, he couldn’t help but smile and lick his lips.

25 15 21 11 9 10 10 5 4 20 8 5 13 1 12 12!

He bit down onto his fingernails, tugging at them with his teeth. Feeling the pain build up under his skin, bracing for what would come next, Bill smiled, and ripped out three of his fingernails at once. Blood dripped down his hands and his fingers throbbed with pain. Bill felt his throat tremble; giggles crawling up his throat. Suddenly, the screeching seemed to quiet, and the colors blinding his closed eyes began to dim. Bill bit down onto more of his fingernails, tearing them out one by one. Bill laughed, finally opening his eyes.

Smiling, he continued to rip out each of his fingernails. The more he bled, the more he laughed, the more his vision went dark, and the more all the faces around him smiled at his pain. For some reason, he never seemed to run out of fingernails to rip out. He just kept going and going. He wondered, for a moment, how much more could he maim himself in the kitchen? Tad had quite a lot of knives in there… a whole set of sharp fun things! Bill smiled, wide and crazed, and crawled towards the kitchen, as fits of giggles escaped his grin. Finally! He could feel something exciting!

∆∆∆

Tad sat at his desk at his workplace, humming to himself. It was his lunch break, which he mostly used for reading, but today he was wondering. William was at home, all alone, strapped up in a straitjacket and unable to walk. Tad felt terrible. The court has mandated that he wear it for at least six months with psychological evaluation, but Tad didn't like the idea of William being stuck in the same spot every day, especially alone.

Tad had tried to explain why putting him in such constraints could be detrimental to his mental health, but his arguments went unheard by the court. They cared more that William was contained than if he was healthy. Tad… couldn't exactly disagree with their decision, but he wished they had found a better way.

Sitting at his computer, Tad composed an email to the Gravity Falls’ local newspaper print. He was requesting to put an advertisement in the paper; one for a babysitter.

Tad cringed at himself when he first thought of the idea, but he didn't really have a better solution. He couldn't simply quit his job, that'd come with a whole new slew of problems, but continuously leaving William alone in the house everyday was simply not an option. Although Tad could already picture the vocal protest that would erupt from the young demon, he reassured himself that this was the best option… at least for now.

Leaning back in his chair, he wondered if William was alright. It had been so long since Tad had seen his son, surely, he would've worked through certain things whilst he was on his own all those years? Then again, from the looks of it, William hadn't aged a day since his departure. In order for demons to mentally or physically age, they have to emotionally mature in some way. William… has looked (and behaved) the exact same way for a very very long time. That worried Tad.

He sighed, realizing his lunch break had already come to an end. Organizing the papers on his desk, opening the correct documents onto his computer, adjusting the pen to his right to be perfectly parallel to the edge of the table… Tad blinked. An hour had gone by. He hadn't done a single thing.

This is unusual. Tad’s brows furrowed, and his eyes felt a creeping dread slowly pull his eyes open. This, paired with his easily plastered “Totally-a-normal-guy-Tad”™ smile, made his expression look especially unsettling. At some point, the head of one of his coworkers popped into his cubicle, taking notice of his grave expression.

“Good afternoon, Tad. You doin’ alright?” The co-worker's right eyebrow went up with curiosity, while she rested her arm on top of the cubicle wall.

“Yes, yes, of course. Everything's alright, Jessica.” Tad had hardly looked up at her just to notice her eyes widening. Confused for a second, Tad realized he had failed to mask his accent as he usually did. Panicking, slightly, he cleared his throat loudly and said in his usual human-interacting voice, “Why yes, I am doing very well, Jessica. How are you?”

Jessica stared at him for a moment..

“Damn, I didn't know you were from Europe. Well, I hope your day gets better.” Then Jessica left.

Tad let out a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from his brow. He needed to get his act together. Sure, it's not like anyone would suspect he was a demon because of an accent, but Tad had spent years crafting his perfect “normal” persona. If people started to see even the faintest cracks in his facade… Tad shuddered.

∆∆∆

Bill stared down at his bloody arms and torso. The voices were gone now… well not gone, but quieter… and Bill was at least sure that what he was seeing was real. Staggering to get up, Bill's body aches. Sharp knives and forks punctured through his skin and into his body. Kept there, they felt like a bruise and a paper cut at the same time. Bill was reeling, baring a wide grin only he was capable of holding in this state. This feeling, this pain, this agony, it made him feel alive.

Bloody hands slipping across the smooth counter surface as Bill tried to pull himself up, his eye trailed up to the stove. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. Bill's eye suddenly focused. Tad would be coming home in thirty minutes.

Bill scrambled around, wondering what to do. First thing first, Bill had to make himself look not stabbed repeatedly. Pulling out all the knives and forks was easy, cleaning himself and the area was going to be difficult.

He grabbed his cane from the hallway. He went to the bathroom; he took a shower to rinse off the blood. Afterwards, he wrapped up his injuries with bandages found in Tad's first aid kit. Wounds sealed off, he wiped the rest of the blood off with a red towel. He dressed himself in a practically identical outfit, hiding his bloody clothes in a bush behind the house. (He'll get them later!) He dried his hair with a towel first, and then a hair-dryer, which took out a large chunk of his time. He really needed to cut his hair. Bill mopped up the giant puddle of blood in the kitchen; luckily, it hadn't dried yet.

He gathered up all the silverware he had bloodied up, and spent around ten minutes just scrubbing the blood off, so by the end they looked brand new. Bill hadn’t remembered exactly where he got them all from but he tried to put them back in the places he found them.

Checking the time, Bill sighed, five more minutes. Wasn't there one other thing he had to do? Leaning on his cane in the kitchen, his mind drew a blank. Bringing his hand up to scratch his chin, it hit him. Well, two things hit him. One, the fact that he was supposed to be in a straitjacket and wheelchair, and two, the sound of Tad unlocking the doors.

Bill bolted to his room.

∆∆∆

Tad whistled while his keys jingled in the front door lock. He struggled for a moment, the lock had been jammed for years, so it took a bit of wiggling to open the door. Hearing that familiar ‘click’ of the lock, Tad pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“William! I'm home!” He shouted, shutting the door behind him. No answer. Tad frowned.

Tad stepped slowly through the house. He could hear some kind of rustling coming from William’s bedroom. As he threaded through the hallway, he looked down and noticed several drops of blood staining the carpet. Eyes wide, he ran to William's room, slamming the door open.

Tad’s eyes fell to the floor. William was lying on the floor, his wheelchair tipped over next to him. Tad gasped, stepping closer.

“Oh, you poor poor child,” Tad picked William up as though he weighed nothing, cradling him in his arms, “Tell me you haven't been stuck like that all day.”

∆∆∆

Bill's eye twitched, and small grumbles escaped his lips while Tad rocked him. “Oh, you poor poor child, tell me you haven't been stuck like that all day!” His stupid cooing voice felt more condescending than usual. Bill wiggled around, trying to escape Tad's grip.

“LET. ME. GO.” Bill glared at Thadeus. Yeah, that’s right, I’m thinking at you and using your full name! How does that feel, hm? Probably not like much, considering Bill hadn’t actually said it out loud.

Tad set him gently down on the bed, using levitation magic to set the wheelchair back up right. Tad sat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you alright?” He asked, petting Bill's head. Bill wanted to bite him.

“I'm fine, Tad. I don't need your help!” Bill hissed at the purple demon, pulling his head away from his hand. “You can stop treating me like a little kid now!” Bill felt no remorse for the sourness in his words. The way Tad looked you'd think he was a lost puppy who had just been kicked.

“Sorry, sorry!” Tad held his hands up in defense, “I was only trying to help, is all.”

Bill scoffed, burying his face into his pillow. That's all you ever try to do.

Tad sighed in defeat, standing up. “Alright, William; I'll go now. Dinner will be ready later this evening, I'll come get you when it's ready.” Before he fully left, though, he said, “If you'd like to join me for some company, I'd appreciate your presence.”

Bill had no response. Tad shut the door behind him, leaving Bill alone in his bed in his dark room. Bill winced, feeling the jacket tug and rub against his poorly bandaged wounds. He hoped that wouldn't leak. He'd rather have Tad not know about what had happened that day.

∆∆∆

Tad had grabbed some carrots from the fridge and was prepping them to be chopped up, but as he reached for the perfect knife, he realized something was wrong. All of his knives were in the wrong place.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Part 1

Dipper and Mabel had made it back to the motel, tired, and ready for bed. Unfortunately for Dipper, though, he didn’t get to go to bed quite yet. Last night he had met Bill in the forest, where Bill proposed a deal, offering literally anything, in return for Dipper’s cooperation in stealing something for him. Dipper obviously wasn’t going to actually help Bill, but he needed a way to stall him so that he couldn’t enact his schemes until Dipper had more information… Surely this couldn’t possibly go wrong, right?

Dipper had agreed to meet with Bill every night for the next three weeks. For Bill, this meant gaining Dipper’s trust to convince him to take his deal. For Dipper, this meant working with Bill just long enough to unravel what he’s really planning, and possibly finding a way to stop him once and for all.

Dipper sighed, sitting on his bed. In the corner of his eyes, he could see Mabel stretching and getting ready for bed. She didn’t know about any of this… Dipper would have to wait until after Mabel fell asleep before he could leave. It’s not like he wanted to keep things from her, but he couldn’t let her know what was going on. She was finally feeling better after everything that had happened. Dipper had honestly not seen her smile so much since they had left California. He couldn’t bring her down now by telling her that Bill was back. He’d have to do this on his own.

Two hours passed, Dipper lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Listening from across the room, Mabel’s breath had finally steadied. She was asleep. Dipper sat up, tiredness evident in his eyes, breath shallow and uneven. He quickly dressed into a dark black hoodie and some jeans, before grabbing his bag and slipping out the door.

Outside, the cold night air hit Dipper like a wall of ice. The air was humid, and he could hear the faint sound of distant crickets. From the way it smelled, Dipper guessed it was going to rain soon. He inhaled, sharply. He liked the smell of rain.

That night he made his way through the forest, weaving through the trees until he reached his destination: A small clearing in the woods, home to some rocks, flowers, and a giant triangular statue depicting the myth himself. Dipper looked around, no sign of Bill yet. Dipper sighed and set his bag down.

“Don’t move.”

Bill. Dipper gasped as a thin sharp knife was brought up to his neck from behind him. The blade just barely grazed his throat. Dipper silently cursed himself, reminding himself who he was meeting and the kind of danger he was in.

“Bill,” Dipper said, barely hiding the gravel in his voice as he glared forward, “Let go of me. If this is your sick way of trying to threaten me into helping you, it’s not going to work.”

Bill didn’t say anything, nor did he move. Dipper’s breath was heavy, but he reminded himself not to panic. He could feel Bill pressed behind him, contact remaining minimal. Dipper felt Bill’s hand brush against his arm. Dipper held in a gasp. Is his hand trembling? The knife at his throat lowered. Dipper stumbled away from Bill, panting. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath, but now he wondered how long he’d gone without air. He growled, turning around and glaring at Bill.

“WHAT THE HELL, CIPHER?” Dipper shouted, glaring intently at Bill, who didn’t meet his gaze. “We had a deal! No threats! Did you really think this would work? If this is you trying to gain my trust, I think we’re going to have a problem!” Dipper rambled, forgetting to choose his words carefully. Blinded by rage, Dipper felt his blood boiling. Ranting until he ran out of words, and without any objection or even a reply from Bill, Dipper’s words fizzled out and he was left breathless waiting for a response.

Bill was silent, seeming to stare off into nothingness. Dipper’s eyes traveled down to the hand holding the knife. It was shaking. Dipper stepped back. Looking closer at his visible eye, Dipper noticed that Bill’s pupil seemed to be… twitching; rapidly dilating and constricting again with no apparent reason.

“Bill?” Dipper tilted his head, staring at the demon. Did he even hear a word I said? Dipper shifted his feet. He was still angry, but he was slowly becoming more concerned. “Bill!”

Bill flinched. He blinked several times, his eyes apparently only adjusting to the dark just now. He stared at the ground for a moment, before looking up at Dipper. He looked… confused. Dipper cautiously took a step forward.

“Pine Tree, when did you get here?” Bill’s eye finally seemed to focus; he had a light but unsettling smile across his face.

Dipper was dumbfounded. Is he joking? Bill’s face betrayed no sense of deception or comicality. Bill tilted his head expectantly; Dipper was suddenly very uncomfortable. Slung across his chest, was a bag with something in it, though Dipper couldn’t tell what. He glanced at the knife still in Bill’s hands. He could see Bill subtly press the tip of his index against the blade while his other fingers loosely gripped the blade with the negligence only of someone who wanted it slip, and it did. The blade fell maybe one or two inches and cut a vertical line over the tip of Bill’s finger, and Dipper noticed the slight flutter of Bill’s breath and a twitch in his wide smile.

“What’s the knife for?” Dipper asked. He wasn’t really sure if Bill had truly forgotten threatening him or if he was just playing stupid, but Dipper wasn’t going to be letting his guard down any time soon either way.

Bill held up the knife and stared at it. He brought it dangerously close to his eye, peering at the tip of the blade so closely… he was holding back. Dipper swallowed. Bill said, “There’s something I need to get.”

“I’m not sure how much I like the idea of you wandering around with a knife,” Dipper crossed his arms.

“If it makes you feel any better, you can carry the knife. Catch!”

Dipper’s eyes went wide, his heart practically jumping out of his chest as Bill flung the knife towards him. Dipper jumped aside, clenching his teeth as the knife hit the ground. He could feel the grating in his throat build up as he turned to Bill, face red.

“WHAT. IS. WRONG. WITH. YOU?” His voice was low and raspy, seething with anger.

“You were supposed to catch it.” Bill shrugged, turning around and beginning to walk away. “Now hurry up already, we have to go.”

Dipper picked up the knife, storming after Bill. He grabbed Bill’s shoulder, spinning the blonde around to face him. Bill nearly stumbled turning around. Towering over Bill, Dipper glared down into his eye. Bill remained expressionless. Dipper was seething. Bill has to be doing this on purpose! He’s toying with me! This is all just a game to him! First threatening him, then acting as though it didn’t happen, then throwing the knife at him. Dipper’s grip tightened on the knife, and he contemplated driving it into Bill’s chest. Bill stared at him, eye wide yet unfazed. Dipper evened out his breath. Bill didn’t look strong, but Dipper had clear memories of him turning his friends into decorative curtains with a snap of his fingers. There was a good chance that needing his help was the only reason Bill hadn’t killed him yet. Also, there was a slight chance that Bill would like it and… Dipper didn’t want to think about that. With a heavy sigh, Dipper evened his voice as he spoke.

“If I’m going to help you, we’re going to have to establish a few rules. Rule number one, you are not allowed to threaten, hurt, or torment anyone.” He needed to avoid the demon’s bad side, but if they were going to work together, he’d need to make some boundaries, “Understood?”

“Okay.” Bill was bored.

Dipper sighed, putting the knife in his pocket. Bill continued walking. Dipper was going to have to seriously think about how he was going to handle this. Bill was dangerous, unpredictable, and currently, Dipper had no defense against him in case he ever just decided to repeatedly stab him in a fit of blind rage… or just for fun. Putting his hands in his pockets, Dipper brushed the knife handle with his finger. It was right there, right there in case he needed it… Staring at the back of Bill’s head as he walked, Dipper didn’t feel much safer.

“Where are you going?” Dipper asked, matching Bill’s pace. Walking next to him, it hit Dipper how much taller he was than Bill. Glancing down, he was easily a foot taller, maybe slightly less. For clarity, Dipper was not particularly tall. Sure, taller than average, but not enough to remark upon. Bill craned his neck to look up at Dipper.

“I need to collect some gnomes’ blood. Hence, the knife.” Bill gestured towards Dipper’s pocket. Why does he need gnome’s blood??? After falling silent for a moment, Bill elaborated, “In order to get you to the Axolotl, we’ll need to perform a ritual to open a gateway into his domain, we’ll need other things, too, like—” Bill’s words fizzled out in Dipper’s mind. Dipper really wasn’t sure at all what any of that meant.

“Wait,” he interrupted, “Axolotl? As in… the lizard?” Dipper’s face went slightly red. He didn’t sound stupid, did he? Dipper wasn’t sure why it was so embarrassing to him that he’d seem stupid to Bill, considering he was an immortal demon who likely thought all humans were equally stupid.

Bill shook his head, “No, no, no, no, no, not an axolotl, The Axolotl. He’s a wishmaster who lives between dimensions. He’s an ancient, ambivalent, powerful being. It's his job to grant wishes or answer questions to anyone who finds themself in his domain.” There was a long pause before Bill continued, “He has what I need you to steal.”

Dipper took a deep breath, taking in all the information he just heard. “Just so we’re clear, I haven’t agreed to help you. You still need to prove I can trust you, and I’ll remind you you’re not exactly on a good start.” Dipper spat out that last part, reminding Bill both of their agreement and his current disdain for him as a whole.

“Yes, yes, yes, I know, I know. I haven’t forgotten, but if you do decide to help me, I’ll still need to gather things for the ritual. It’s easier to do it now when we have time.” Bill’s head swayed unnaturally as he spoke, it almost looked like his body was dangling mid-air, though Dipper could see he wasn’t just by looking closer. God, does he have to be so creepy? Bill paused, “Besides, it’s not like you’ve given me anything better to do.”

Dipper sighed. It worried him how much liberty he was allowing Bill to have here. He eyed Bill closely. He looked weaker now, but Dipper wasn’t sure if that was because he had truly been weakened, or if it was just the effect of him being kind of human now. It could be either, but he couldn’t exactly take his chances to find out which.

“Alright, but if we have to collect some weird shit like the tongue of a mushroom-gremlin or the shredded bones of baby turtles or something, I’m out. Got it?” Dipper groused. He was absolutely not going to deal with Bill’s bullshit for something he may or may not agree to do anyway. Bill turned to him with an amused but surprised expression.

“Yeesh, someone has a dark mind,” Bill commented, a sly grin marking dimples on his face, clearly holding back a laugh. Dipper huffed, face red.

“You say that as if it’s unreasonable to assume you’d do any of that.” Dipper averted his gaze. Bill gave a spiteful laugh. “I’d just like to remind you that there’s approximately one person who has offered to give me a sentient severed head in my life, and it’s not Mabel.”

“Whatever you say, Pine Tree.”

“I have a name. It’s Dipper.”

“Already forgotten it, Pine Tree!”

Dipper grumbled, following Bill through the woods. He wasn’t really sure where they were supposed to be going, he didn’t think there was anything in the direction they were going. Bill said they needed gnome blood, but after years visiting Gravity Falls and exploring the woods, Dipper’s found the gnomes to be mostly nomadic, and historically hard to find.

The two weaved through trees for what could have been a long time, or maybe only a few minutes, Dipper wasn’t really sure. The whole way, Dipper watched Bill closely, taking note of every step, cough, and gesture the man made. Stepping over rocks and twigs, it didn't take long for Dipper to take notice of Bill’s awkward gait. His whole body was uneven, and he seemed to sway from side to side as he moved forward. Dipper did distinctly remember Bill having slight trouble walking back when he possessed him several years ago, stumbling over himself and even falling down the stairs. Wait, no, I think he did that on purpose. At some point, he started thinking about Bill’s hair. He noticed how Bill’s long golden hair dragged across the forest floor, collecting dirt and leaves. As they walked, Bill nearly tripped on his hair at least four times. Dipper grimaced, silently questioning how Bill could stand it. Why was his hair so long anyway? Why won’t he cut it? It was clearly an inconvenience to him.

Bill stopped, causing Dipper to nearly run into him.

“Found you,” Bill’s voice was quiet. It took Dipper a moment to realize he wasn’t talking to him. They looked forward. In front of them was a pile of sleeping gnomes. Suddenly aware of the weight of his knife in his pocket, Dipper quietly remembered they were there to collect blood.

Dipper could feel his shoulders tensing. How were they going to collect it? Dipper thumbed the knife in his pocket. Just cut them open? Is it really that easy? Where would they cut them? How would they know if they took too much? Dipper hadn’t ever really seen eye to eye with the gnomes, but picturing one of them limp in his arms, bleeding out… Dipper swallowed, a lump building in his throat and suddenly it was hard to breathe.

Bill crouched down into a bush, expecting Dipper to follow. Watching the gnomes, Bill held out his hand expectantly. Dipper stared at it. Bill turned his head, opening his palm wider and tilting his head like he was hinting at something. Oh, Dipper realized, he wants the knife. Dipper’s hands clammed up. Throat constricting, Dipper glanced over to the gnomes. They were sleeping so peacefully, yet that only made it easier for Dipper to picture them dead. He winced, surprised by his own thought process. Pulling out the knife from his pocket, Dipper stared at it for a moment.

“How much do we need?” He asked, words coming out easier than expected. He wanted to know how much they would take. He didn’t want to kill a gnome. He didn’t want to kill anything, to be honest.

Bill shrugged, “About a gallon.”

Dipper did a double take.

“A gallon?” He said, slightly louder than he should’ve. Some of the gnomes stirred. Dipper quieted, whisper-shouting, “A gallon? I don’t think there’s a gallon of blood in a gnome. They’re literally the size of garden gnomes.”

His body tensed; he felt like there were tight strings all around him, wrapping around him and limiting his movement, slowly getting tighter and tighter as silence pressed on him.

“Yeah, it’ll take about three to get it.” Bill talked about it so easily, like it was nothing. Of course, it was nothing to him. Dipper grimaced. Bill truly didn’t care for a single thing.

“Three? Three? Like three dead gnomes? I’m not trying to kill anyone, Bill!” Dipper said, forgetting his volume.

“Fine, but it’ll take a lot longer to get enough blood if we don’t kill any of them.” Bill growled.

“I don’t care how long it takes! Just because you’re heartless doesn’t mean I have to be!” Dipper’s voice slowly became louder and louder as he spoke.

“What did you just say about me?” Bill slowly turned to him, scowling.

“What? That you’re heartless? Well, you are! You don’t care about anyone but yourself! You don’t care what or who you break as long as you get what you want!” Louder and louder.

“At least I know what I need to do, and I’m actually willing to do it.” Bill’s eye narrowed onto Dipper, his pupils thinning to the width of papercuts. “No matter what it did to me.”

“Is that so? So the whole time you were just sooo torn and tormented while you shuffled around people’s faces and set people on fire? Face it, you liked breaking things, you liked hurting people, and you liked the pain you caused!” Dipper was screaming now, stepping closer and closer to Bill. He felt like he was boiling over, like all of this had been bubbling under the surface for years and he could only just now say it.

Bill froze, his glare disappearing. He stared at Dipper, eye wide. He almost looked scared. For a second Dipper thought he went too far, but he pushed that thought away. Bill tore his gaze away, staring at the ground, speechless. Dipper went to say something, when—

“Hey! What’s going on here?”

Dipper’s head snapped to the side. Standing beside them, at roughly twelve inches tall, including the hat, was Jeff. Jeff, Mabel’s ex-boyfriend, kidnapper, and self-proclaimed king of the gnomes. Bill bit his lip.

“Uhhh,” Dipper scratched the back of his neck, “Morning?”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Jeff stared angrily at them, and paused, “No seriously, what time is it?”

Fumbling, Dipper checked his watch, then remembered he didn’t have a watch, and grabbed his bag to search for his phone. 2:47 am. Dipper sucked in a breath.

“It’s…”

“It’s the statistically average time that all gnomes wake up, that’s what time it is,” Bill finished for him, and Dipper wondered how he ever fell for any of Bill’s lies considering he was getting progressively less convincing. Bill stepped out of the bush and crouched down in front of Jeff. “Anyway, you seem tired, so you should probably go back to sleep anyway.”

“Yeah, right, like I’m gonna fall for that! Hey, wait a minute, aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Jeff asked. Bill’s eye went wide, and he glanced back at Dipper, who was honestly surprised Jeff both knew who Bill was and knew him well enough to recognize him. Jeff turned to Dipper, who was still holding the knife tightly in his hands. “Wait, what’s that for? You guys weren’t tryna pull somethin’ sketchy, were you?” Jeff eyed them suspiciously.

Dipper shifted his feet. He wanted to argue that they weren’t planning anything but there really wasn’t any way of getting around the fact that they were only there to steal blood from the gnomes. Standing there awkwardly, Dipper hid the knife behind his back, feeling increasingly guilty.

“Uhh, well… we were, uhh,” Subconsciously stumbling backwards, Dipper fumbled, words failing him. All the gnomes were awake now and looking around confused. Bill sighed, standing up.

Swiftly grabbing the knife from Dipper’s hand, Bill swooped down and lashed at Jeff. Jeff, managing to back up slightly, only got a surface level cut on his forehead, but it was bleeding… a lot.

Covering his eyes and stomping around, Jeff shouted, “GNOMES! ASSEMBLE!”

Oh no…

In a matter of seconds, all the gnomes were climbing on top of each other and assembling into a giant composite gnome. Dipper’s eyes widened.

Bill turned back to face Dipper. “Run.”

Dipper wasted no time in following his order, and bolted through the woods, running for his life from the gnome giant that now chased him. Branches scraping against his sides, leaves smacking him in the face, Dipper sprinted through the forest, not directing any attention to where he was going or what got in his way, just that he should run. The gnomes were getting closer. Turning his head to see Bill, Dipper found he was nowhere to be seen. Great, Dipper thought, he ditched me. Clenching his fists, Dipper really wished Bill hadn’t taken that knife from him.

The ground shook beneath him as the giant closed in. Dipper’s eyes frantically searched his surroundings for something he could use, or somewhere he could hide, but to no avail. By this point the trees were thinning and the ground was getting rockier and rockier, making it hard to keep going for long. Holding his breath, Dipper stopped, feet dragging behind him as he turned and ran towards the giant. This is probably a bad idea! He took a deep breath, sliding down and grabbing the giant’s foot. As soon as he got a good hold, Dipper began grabbing as many of the gnomes he could get his hands on and yanking them out, hoping to eventually destabilize the giant's balance. As the giant began to shake its leg trying to get him off, Dipper flailed, becoming dizzy but holding on nonetheless. It didn’t help when the gnomes in the leg started biting Dipper, their sharp teeth sinking into his skin. Dipper growled, searing pain ripping through his limbs.

Finally falling off, Dipper felt his breath be knocked out of him when he hit the ground. His entire body was sore, but he wasn’t done yet. Pulling himself off the ground, Dipper stood back up, ready to fight.

“Back off, Jeff!” Dipper shouted, looking up at Jeff who commanded all the other gnomes. He gasped. That’s it.

“Never!” Jeff protested, but Dipper already had a plan in mind.

Dipper grabbed a rock from the ground, and began swiftly climbing one of the taller trees. Pulling himself up on branches, Dipper climbed higher and higher. The giant turned to him, grabbing the tree and uprooting it almost immediately. Dipper fumbled, catching himself. Deep breathes, deep breathes. Grabbing a branch just above him he steadied himself on the trunk of the tree while the giant shook him above its head. Dipper jumped.

Not falling for long, Dipper grabbed the giant’s face, punching and kicking at every gnome he could while climbing up to Jeff’s spot. Jeff’s eyes went wide as Dipper grabbed him, hands easily wrapping around the gnome's entire body. Yanking Jeff from the rest of the gnomes, Dipper sensed the moment that all the other gnomes stopped, wobbling and unsure of what to do without their leader. Dipper wondered for a moment if when the gnomes were like this they had some kind of hive mind, almost marveling at the stark contrast in behavior from when Jeff was leading them to when he was not.

“Let me go!” Jeff squirmed.

“Not unless you stop chasing me!” Dipper ordered.

Jeff growled. “Alright alright, just put me down.”

Dipper sighed. Dipper felt himself slowly being put down as the gnomes disassembled themselves. Once again standing on solid ground, Dipper turned to Jeff, who was dusting himself off. Staring at the dried blood on Jeff’s forehead, he remembered why he was there. His feet shifted. He looked around, all the gnomes were wandering around and talking to each other.

“Jeff,” Dipper said, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, we’ll call it ev–”

“For this.” Dipper kicked some dirt into Jeff’s eyes, then ran into the ground of gnomes. Jeff fell down covering his watering eyes while Dipper scooped up as many gnomes as possible in his arms and ran back into the forest, leaving Jeff with no clue which direction he went.

Dipper didn’t run for long, eventually he slowed to a steady jog, and then to a walk. None of the gnomes in his arms seemed to care all that much about being carried off. Dipper took a deep breath and sighed. What was he doing? He looked around. He’s been up all night, running around trying to collect gnome blood so he can help Bill, of all people…

No, not helping him, Dipper told himself, I’m only getting close to him to find out what he’s planning.

“Nice work, Pine Tree!”

Dipper jumped, whipping around to find Bill leaning against a tree behind him. Dipper glared at him.

“Gee, thanks for the help with the gnomes, Bill! So happy the only one here with a knife was right by my side to help me!” Dipper complained. Bill only rolled his eye.

“You were the one who ran off.”

“You told me to run off!”

Bill tilted his head at him. “Did I? Huh, must’ve forgotten. Anyway, I see you’ve collected several gnomes for me.”

Bill reached for the gnomes, but Dipper stepped away.

“Only take however much you need for the ritual, got it?”

Bill nodded, waving his hand as if to say he doesn’t care but will cooperate.

Dipper looked down at the gnomes in his arms, half had fallen back asleep, the other half stared at him with wide reflective eyes. Dipper shuddered, stepping closer to Bill and gesturing for him to take one.

Bill pulled out a large jar from his bag, and Dipper grimaced. He supposed they were going to fill that thing with blood. Bill sat criss-crossed on the ground, setting the jar in front of him. Dipper sat next to him and watched as Bill simultaneously picked up a gnome and pulled out his knife. The gnome squirmed as Bill brought the knife closer, and Dipper had to hold on tight to the gnomes still in his arms, to make sure they didn't escape.

Bill brought the knife down on the gnome’s back, making a single clean cut across the creature's body, before turning him around and watching the blood fall into the jar. Dipper gagged, at which Bill chuckled. It bothered Dipper the blank expression on Bill’s face as he let the gnome bleed out. After a bit, Bill set the gnome down, and moved on to the next one. Dipper let out a sigh of relief that when they were done, all the gnomes were still alive and left to scurry off into the woods.

“They'll be dizzy for about a day, then they'll be fine. Gnomes are durable.”

Bill stared at his full jar of blood, satisfied. Dipper honestly didn’t want to spend any longer looking at it than he needed to. There was a deep unsettling feeling lingering in the bottom of Dipper's stomach that he couldn’t quite describe. He wouldn’t describe it as contemptment, partly because he was also incredibly uncomfortable, partly because he didn’t want to be the kind of person who is contempt watching others be harmed.

When Dipper went home, he was covered in dirt, scrapes, bruises, and yes, blood. Blood that was not his own and that made him incredibly uncomfortable. Sneaking into his and Mabel’s room as quietly as possible, he quickly took a shower and changed clothes, before collapsing on his bed. Looking outside the window, he saw that the sky was already getting lighter. He groaned.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Part 2

Tad sat up on his bed, hunched over. He stared at the floor. His eyes burned, craving to be closed so he may rest. He could not. He could not rest, no matter how much he tried. William was hiding something. He knew he was, but should he say something? He sighed. Tad didn’t want to lose William, not again. He couldn’t do it again… but if he didn’t find out what he was hiding someone could get seriously hurt. Tad ran his hands through his dark hair. When he pulled them back, he noticed several gray hairs intertwined in his fingers. His eye twitched.

He took a deep breath and pushed himself to stand. The door creaked as he stepped outside, the sound grating in his sensitive ears. His head throbbed; he hadn't slept that night, and it seemed as though every small sound was like a banging drum in his head. He trudged through the hallway, stopping outside William’s door. He wiped his eyes, straightening his posture and fixing his hair: His attempt at looking presentable enough that it isn't concerning. He knocked on the door.

…

Tad sighed and pushed the door open. Morning light filtered through William’s window, casting his joyful yellow room in cloudy blues and dark grays. William lay in bed, body faced to the wall. His breathing was ragged and uneven, but he otherwise didn't move. This was how he was most mornings. Tad stepped closer, and his gaze softened. William was biting his lip. Tad sucked in a short breath. He wanted William to be honest with him, but he isn't sure if the lies are a result of malicious intent or nerve of what Tad would do if he knew the truth. The thought that William would fear him broke his heart, but the thought that he was only a pawn in some larger game William was playing sent a deep sense of discomfort through Tad. Everyone had said he was evil. Everyone had said he was a liar and a manipulator… but Tad didn't believe them.

He didn't want to believe them.

“Rise and shine, William,” Tad said sweetly, tilting his head and holding his own hands. “Did you sleep well?” He heard a groan. He slowly stepped towards William’s bed. “William? Are you alright?” Tad waited. Silence.

William turned to face him, a deep circle under his visible eye. Tad smiled sympathetically.

“Never been better.”

∆∆∆

Bill sat at the kitchen table. The rough fabric of his straitjacket rubbed against his skin uncomfortably. He gritted his teeth. Bill liked pain; he couldn't stand discomfort. He inhaled deeply, his arms heavy over his chest as air laboriously filled his lungs. Bill couldn't remember the last time he slept. Probably about bleventeen days ago. Yeah, that sounded right.

Glaring forward, he noticed several of Tad’s indigo hairs had turned gray. That was probably his fault. Most bad things were his fault.

Tad set a plate of pancakes in front of Bill. Bill stared at the plate for a moment. He hated eating. He sucked in a deep breath and proceeded to mash his face down into his plate. Tad grimaced at his behavior. Bill bit down on a piece of pancake and slurped it up, syrup dripping down his face. Sitting across from him, Tad looked, as he always did when he watched Bill eat, disturbed.

“I can help you, you know,” Tad offered, like he did most mornings.

“I don't need your help.” Bill practically growled at Tad.

Tad sighed and kept his eyes off of Bill while he ate. Bill wasn’t sure if he was angry or relieved about that. After breakfast, Bill would stick his head under the sink faucet and wash off his face. Tad offered to help, again, and Bill refused, again. The only thing Bill ever accepted help with was getting Tad to push his wheelchair to wherever he needed to be at the time. Everything else? Bill would intransigently and violently refuse all aid.

After breakfast, Bill watched out the window as Tad pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the road. Bill took a deep breath. He considered leaving the house and finding something else to do, but… Bill honestly just wanted to sleep. As his mind drifted off, he remembered the odd expression Tad gave him that morning. It was different than Tad’s usual condescending pity, instead he looked more like…like he was desperately pleading for Bill to say something. Bill couldn’t understand. What did he want him to say?

Bill was usually good at reading people, at figuring out what they want. Not Tad. Bill could never seem to understand what Tad was thinking, much less what he wanted. It was infuriating. He couldn’t understand him. Tad was kind for seemingly no reason. He didn’t care for power or connections, he never even seemed to take the slightest advantage of things he did have. It was like he wanted to help people just for the hell of it. Maybe Bill was selfish—okay he was definitely selfish—but he couldn’t wrap his head around how Tad just seemed to like everyone and everything. Mostly, Bill felt like he either couldn’t care less, or he wanted to set everything on fire. There was no in between.

Well, Bill thought, I care about Tad.

That was what he told himself.

He told himself he cared about Tad.

He hoped that was true.

∆∆∆

Bill huffed and panted as he ran through the woods, stumbling over roots and branches and his hair with every step. It was dark, really dark. He could hardly see anything.

Z O L M V

Branches scraped his arms and legs as he moved clumsily through the forest. He was getting closer… Was he getting closer? Where was he going again?

18 5 13 5 13 2 5 18

Remember… Remember what? What was he supposed to be remembering?

I B G D M K D D

Bill tripped. He fell, landing on rough dead bark, rocks, and roots. He hit his head. He cursed. He looked around. He was surrounded by trees and darkness. He could see the stars. The stars were dark blood red. Bill felt strange tingles over his face as star blood dripped down and hit him. Wait… what? Bill furrowed his brows. The trees were getting taller… but they weren’t trees. The tall pines closed around him, long sharp teeth biting down and swallowing him in darkness. Bill felt sick, like he wanted to puke.

D S V I V Z N R

Bill turned. He could feel the rough dirt on the ground digging into his skin as he shifted his body weight onto his hands. He could feel the ground… but he saw bodies. Bill jumped back, but they were everywhere. Dead, blank, eyeless corpses, rotting, bleeding, piled on top of each other. Bill tried to breathe, but his senses were overwhelmed with the scent of rot. As he crawled over bodies, he spotted one he recognized.

13 15 13 ?

Bill screamed, but no sound escaped his lips. His whole body trembled. He realized who these people were… looking around he knew…

R H N D B E E D C M A D F Z E E

Bill panted. His eyes felt wet. He looked down and could see blood dripping from his face. It pooled beneath him until he was drowning. He clenched his eyes shut, but he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe?

W I L D M R M B L F I H R M H

Bill choked. In the distance, he could see a blurry face. A living face. Bill cried out, but the sound was choked by blood crawling up his throat. He crawled over the ground, hoping to come closer to the person he was seeing. The face became clear, and Bill could see Pine Tree looking deep into his eyes. Bill smiled.

9 20 ‘ 19 14 15 20 18 5 1 12

Bill faltered. Pine Tree was gone. He was gone. Was he ever there?

E H G C , Z K D R H N ?

∆∆∆

“Pine Tree, when did you get here?” Bill tilted his head. He hadn’t expected Pine Tree to be early to their rendezvous.

He looked around. He was standing in the clearing with his statue. Pine Tree was in front of him, looking startled. Bill tried to remember how he got here. His mind was fuzzy.

“What’s the knife for?”

Bill looked up at the question. Knife? What knife? Bill felt the weight of something turning in his hand. Oh yeah, that knife. He held up the blade, examining it. For a moment, he thought how good it would feel to stick it through his own eye, then he realized he wouldn’t be able to heal the damage, and Tad would most definitely notice if Bill was missing an eye. Unless he poked it in his already bad eye? Now that was an idea!

“I’m not sure how much I like the idea of you wandering around with a knife,” Pine Tree glared at Bill.

“If it’ll make you feel better, you can carry it. Catch!” Bill lightly tossed the knife to Pine Tree, who screamed really loudly and jumped to the side. He glared at Bill, apparently mad about something.

“WHAT. IS. WRONG. WITH. YOU?” Bill flinched at Pine Tree’s voice. He sounded angry… really, really angry.

“You were supposed to catch it…” Bill tried to brush it off, brows furrowing in confusion, Pine Tree is seriously overreacting. “Now! Let’s hurry up already. We have somewhere to be.”

Bill turned around, quickly walking away. He could hear Pine Tree following him. Bill gasped when he felt a warm hand grab his shoulder, and he was spun around. Bill almost fell, trying to rebalance himself on his cane. He looked up. Pine Tree was really close, towering over him. Bill swallowed a growing lump in his throat. Pine Tree was definitely angry.

“If I’m going to help you, we’re going to have to establish a few rules. Rule number one, you are not allowed to threaten, hurt, or torment anyone. Understood?”

“Okay?” Bill shrugged. What was Pine Tree so mad about? He hadn’t done anything wrong yet. All Bill did was give Pine Tree a knife, and Pine Tree had wanted him to hand over the knife. He didn’t want Bill to carry it. This was a lot of fuss over a single stabbing stick.

Bill started walking again, and the sound of Pine Tree’s footsteps was quickly following behind. Bill smiled. Pine Tree caught up to him.

“Where are we going?” Pine Tree asked. At least he’s not still fuming.

“I need to collect some gnomes’ blood. That’s why we need the knife.” Bill strained his neck to look at Pine Tree. “In order to get you to the Axolotl, we’ll need to perform a ritual to open a gateway into his domain, we’ll need other things, too, like fresh dewdrops, a claw from a multibear, leaves, the eye of an omniscient goat, unicorn hair, teeth, and–”

“Wait,” Pine Tree interrupted. “Axolotl? As in a lizard?”

“No, no, no, no, no, not an axolotl, the Axolotl. He’s a wishmaster who lives between dimensions.” Bill patiently explained who the Axolotl was, decidingly leaving out his personal opinions on the damned lizard, “He has what I need you to steal.”

“Just so we’re clear, I haven’t agreed to help you. You still need to prove I can trust you, and I’ll remind you you’re not exactly on a good start.” Pine Tree hissed. What did he mean not at a good start? Bill hadn’t done anything wrong so far. Well, not since he and Pine Tree made their arrangement.

“Yes, yes, yes, I know, I know. I haven’t forgotten, but if you do decide to help me, I’ll still need to gather things for the ritual. It’s easier to do it now when we have time. Besides, it’s not like you’ve given me anything better to do.” Bill commented. Pine Tree had said it didn’t matter what they did together, but Bill had to disagree. Unless they have something to do together, how will Bill form a bond with him? Bill almost giggled at the word. Bond. He was forming a bond with Pine Tree.

“Alright, but if we have to collect some weird shit like the tongue of a mushroom-gremlin or the shredded bones of baby turtles or something, I’m out. Got it?”

Bill nearly laughed. Pine Tree was silly. “Yeesh, someone has a dark mind.” He commented, covering his smiling mouth. Pine Tree blushed. His face was pretty when he blushed.

“You say that as if it’s unreasonable to assume you’d do any of that. I’d just like to remind you that there’s approximately one person who has offered to give me a sentient severed head in my life, and it’s not Shooting Star.”

Bill giggled. “Whatever you say, Pine Tree.”

“I have a name.”

“Already forgotten it, Pine Tree!”

Bill followed the gnomes’ trail with Pine Tree following close behind. Gnomes weren’t easy to find, but once you know how to recognize their tracks, you’ll find them quickly. The hardest part was just that they tended to move in extremely large groups, so instead of seeing a bunch of parallel footpaths, it was an uneven cacophony of overlapping divots in the ground. Bill crouched down into the bushes; he could hear the gnomes’ snoring. He stopped. Pine Tree bumped into him. His body was warm.

Ahead of them, a pile of sleeping gnomes snored. Bill smiled. “Found you.”

“Give me the knife.” He extended his hand to the Pine Tree. Nothing. He was pretty sure he had said it out loud. Bill turned to face him, opening his palm wider. Pine Tree pulled the knife from his pocket, but didn’t hand it over just yet.

“How much do we need?”

“About a gallon.”

“A GALLON?” Several gnomes woke up. Bill glared at him. Pine Tree spoke quieter. “A gallon? I don’t think there’s a gallon of blood in a gnome. They’re literally the size of garden gnomes.”

“Yeah, it’ll take about three to get it.”

“Three? Three? Like three whole gnomes? I’m not trying to kill anyone, Bill!” Pine Tree shouted.

“Fine, but it’ll take a lot longer to get enough blood if we don’t kill any of them.” Time management, Pine Tree. It’s called time management.

“I don’t care how long it takes! Just because you’re heartless doesn’t mean I have to be!”

S V Z I G O V H H

Bill flinched. He stared at the ground. Were his eyes leaking? No, no, no. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry. He clenched his eyes shut, letting the salt burn his eyes. He opened them again, dry, he turned and glared at Pine Tree. Yeah, make yourself look as angry as possible. Don’t let him see you.

“What did you just say to me?”

“What? That you’re heartless? Well, you are! You don’t care about anyone but yourself! You don’t care what or who you break as long as you get what you want!” Pine Tree’s voice banged inside Bill’s head like a metal pipe. Bill bit his lip.

“At least I know what I need to do, and I’m actually willing to do it. No matter what it did to me.”

12 9 1 18

“Is that so? So the whole time you were just sooo torn and tormented while you shuffled around people’s faces and set things on fire? Face it, you liked breaking things, you liked hurting people, and you liked the pain you caused other people!” Pine Tree’s face seemed to distort, and so did his voice. “Rhn'kx ghmabgz unm t axtkmexll fhglmxk!”

Bill’s entire body felt frozen. He was wrong. He was wrong. He was wrong. He was wrong. He was wrong! He was wrong! He was wrong! He was wrong! HE WAS WRONG!

“That– That’s not true…” Bill’s voice was quiet; he stared at the ground. He wasn’t even really sure Pine Tree heard him, or maybe he didn’t really say it out loud; it was hard to tell sometimes.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” Some gnome said, tapping his foot in front of them impatiently. Bill stared at him.

“Uhh, morning?” Pine Tree said, nervous. Bill stared at the gnome.

“Do you have any idea what time it is? No seriously, what time is it?” The gnome asked. It was well past midnight.

Dipper went to say something, but Bill interrupted him. “It’s the statistically average time that all gnomes wake up, that’s what time it is. Anyway, you seem tired, so you should probably go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, right, like I’m gonna fall for that!” Okay, so maybe it wasn’t Bill’s best bluff, but it wasn’t too obvious, was it? Okay, yeah, fine. “Hey, wait a minute, aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

Bill eyes widened. Who the heck is this guy? The gnome seemed to spot the knife and said, “Wait, what’s that for? You guys weren’t tryna pull somethin’ sketchy, were you?”

Well… yes, but you don’t have to know that.

Pine Tree made a poor excuse for an explanation, and Bill rolled his eyes. Without wasting any more time, Bill took the knife and attacked the gnome.

“GNOMES! ASSEMBLE!”

That’s… probably not good. Bill turned out to be correct, because a moment later, the gnomes had stacked on top of each other and turned into a giant Santa-clause looking guy. Wait, I think it’s supposed to be a giant gnome. Pine Tree took off running, Bill would’ve been mad, but the gnomes chased him instead of Bill, which Bill appreciated. Sighing and realizing he probably shouldn’t just leave Pine Tree to fight the gnomes himself, Bill started following him, slowly.

Bill followed them, not really with the goal of catching up, but more with the goal of not losing track of Pine Tree. Bill stopped, the image of Pine Tree’s soft face fading away into nothingness left a thick lump in Bill’s throat. He swallowed it, clenching his eyes shut and kept walking. It wasn’t real…

By the time the gnomes were back into sight, they had fallen apart and were sleeping, and Pine Tree was nowhere to be seen. Bill’s breathing quickened. Where was he? Bill looked for human footprints and found some heading into the thicket of trees. He followed until he found Pine Tree with seven gnomes in his hands. More than enough, Bill smirked.

“Nice work, Pine Tree.”

Pine Tree stared at him like he was a ghost. Bill leaned against the tree, biting his lip.

“Gee, thanks for the help with the gnomes, Bill!” Pine Tree said sarcastically, Bill was beginning to realize Pine Tree was a very sarcastic person. Pine Tree continued complaining; Bill couldn’t help but roll his eye.

“You were the one who ran off,” Bill reminded him.

“You told me to run off!”

Bill paused. He didn’t remember doing that. “Anyway, I see you’ve collected several gnomes for me.” He reached out, grabbing at the gnomes, but Pine Tree wouldn’t let him.

“Only take however much you need for the ritual!” Man, Pine Tree nagged a lot.

Bill pulled a jar from his bag and sat criss-cross-applesauce on the ground. He got the knife and took a gnome from Pine Tree, who was very politely keeping the rest from escaping. Bill cut the gnome open and poured its blood into the jar. Okay, they have seven gnomes so… yeah, that should be enough. Bill let the gnome go and moved on with the others. It actually didn’t take nearly as long as he thought it would… though, Pine Tree looked like he might just puke.

“They'll be dizzy for about a day, then they'll be fine. Gnomes are durable.” Bill thought that might comfort the human. It didn’t. He grimaced.

After filling the jar, Bill let Pine Tree leave, and he headed home. Feeling the weight of the jar in his arm, Bill silently walked through the woods. It’s real. This is real. Pine Tree is real. Bill breathed, calmly. He knew what was real. He knew what was real. He knew what was real. He knew what was real…

He really hoped he knew what was real.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Part 1

Dipper sat on the floor in the far corner of the Mystery Shack, writing in his journal. No, he was not avoiding people, he was just actively choosing to exist in a space where he knew there wouldn’t be any people. It was a slow day anyway. The summer hadn’t really started so there weren’t many tourists yet, and Dipper was exhausted. His arms might as well have been wet noodles, his breath was heavy, and he was struggling to keep his head up at this point. He had spent all night helping Bill… Bleh, that feels wrong just to think about. He grumpily wrote of his encounters with Bill in invisible ink, with a blacklight taped to his forehead, as he squinted at the paper to write. He couldn’t risk anyone learning of Bill’s return yet, so he had to remain secretive.

Hours passed. Dipper occasionally got up to shelve something or dust it off, just to show Stan that he was still doing his job. Soos was the new Mr, Mystery of course, he had been since Weirdmaggedon, but Stan still owned the Mystery Shack and tended to supervise the shop to make sure everyone was doing their jobs correctly. In fact, Soos was probably the only one Stan didn’t keep an annoyingly close eye on. Which, to be fair, Soos would never slack off, being Mr. Mystery is quite literally his dream job.

Mabel was a lot better with customers than Dipper was, so she usually handled the cash register and the gift shop. Dipper cleaned; he had found that cleaning was a job that he didn’t have to think to do, which was helpful because he was constantly thinking about everything all the time. Sometimes he would sneak off to his hiding spot on the roof, but Stan would usually notice he was gone fairly quickly. He missed hanging out with Wendy up there, but her summer break from college didn’t start for another month.

Dipper scratched out a few words in his journal that he had misspelled. He had been misspelling a lot of things. His head was cloudy from nights spent awake, running around the forest with a triangle. Well, not quite a triangle anymore. Bill had managed to get a body, which confused Dipper on many accounts. How did he get it? Wasn’t one of his huge goals in Weirdmaggedon to get a physical form? If it’s his, like he says, why didn’t he use it then? If he can just conjure up a body from nowhere, why go so long without one before? Let’s say it’s not his, and he had possessed someone. Who are they? Why hadn’t Dipper ever seen them before? How did Bill find them? Had Bill hurt them? Can Bill use his powers in their body?

Dipper pulled himself away from his journal, clutching his head. If he thought of this any longer, his head might explode. He flicked off his blacklight and pulled off the tape attaching it to his head. It was useful to not have to hold the thing while he wrote in his journals, but when he put it on his head it shone too brightly in his eyes and gave him a headache, and if there was anything that Dipper did not need at the moment, it was a worse headache. He got up, putting his journal back in his bag and picking up the broom. He swept the floors. They didn’t really need it, but he needed something to do with his hands other than write.

Dipper felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around. Mabel.

“Ford wants you in his nerd lab.” She smiled.

Dipper smiled back and nodded. He set the broom aside and went over to the vending machine. He punched in the code and slipped inside. He didn’t really try to hide what he was doing from the one customer in the shop, Mayor Tyler Cutebiker. At this point, everyone in Gravity Falls knew about Ford. Nothing about Stan having faked his death or Ford being trapped in an alternate dimension for thirty years, but over five years, the townspeople eventually seemed to pick up on that, ‘Oh, there's two of them now’. Ford didn’t leave the shack much except for his annual trips with Stan, but over time Stan had managed to get him to go outside more, and they could be seen together in public.

Dipper dragged himself down into Ford's lab. He still felt too tired to do anything, but he’d have to get used to it. Stepping out of the elevator, Dipper could feel his stomach squirming. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel slightly guilty about hiding Bill from Ford, but in truth it was better this way. Dipper still didn’t really know if Bill could be killed. He already came back once, who’s to say he can’t again? Dipper needed to get on Bill’s good side, and that required working with him a little, and as much as Dipper looked up to Ford, Ford had a blinding rage towards Bill that could get him seriously hurt or worse. Although Dipper was fairly confident by this point, he knew that Ford would probably find out eventually, and didn’t exactly like the idea of Ford learning that he’s been spending his nights fraternizing with the enemy. Dipper sighed, stepping into Ford’s lab.

“Dipper, come in, come in,” Ford excitedly welcomed Dipper in, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and ushering him in. “You will not believe what I've found!”

Dipper gave an awkward smile. Ford began rummaging through his desk looking for something.

“I was hiking through the woods a few days ago and I—” Ford stopped, staring up at Dipper. “Dipper… you look terrible.”

Dipper blinked slowly. He looked like a mess. His hair was tangled and all over the place. Did he remember to brush it that morning? His face was paler than usual, and he had the faint outlines of dark circles under his eyes. Concern consumed Ford’s facial expression, and he set a reassuring hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

“I look awesome,” Dipper said, voice slightly raspy. He cleared his throat. Ford’s frown deepened and he squeezed Dipper’s shoulder.

“I know you’re stressed; believe me, I’ve been there, but you need to take care of yourself.” Ford grimaced. Dipper wasn’t going to say so, well, he might, but he thought that this was a little rich coming from the man who basically lives in his basement and sets his face on fire to avoid shaving.

“I'm fine, Grunkle Ford.” Dipper paused, “Really, really. I just missed a few hours of sleep last night, perfectly normal for me. Trust me, I’m used to it. I’ll be fine.”

Except, it wasn’t a few hours of sleep, it was possibly a little before six in the morning when Dipper even got home last night. Ford really didn’t like the progression Dipper made from ‘I’m fine,’ to ‘I’ll be fine.’ Frowning, he looked back and forth from Dipper to the work he had on his desk.

“Uh, what were you saying before? About walking through the woods?” Dipper asked, trying to break the unsteady tension between them. Ford hummed for a moment, thinking.

“Well,” Ford frowned, clearly uncomfortable; he sighed, “To be honest I don’t want you going there unless I’ve gone first to test the danger, besides, you clearly need to rest.”

“What? No! I don’t need to rest,” Dipper argued, “I’m perfectly fine! I’ll have some coffee and I’ll be fine. It’s been so long since we’ve gotten to spend time together… I don’t want to miss it.”

Ford stilled for a moment, thinking. After a moment, he gave Dipper a weak smile.

“Why don’t you just hang out here for a while. We can talk, catch up. You can’t tell me you’d rather work in the Mystery Shack.” He chuckled.

Dipper smiled. He sat down; he had his own chair in Ford’s lab. Fiddling with pens on the desk, Dipper repeatedly clicked them over and over again. A habit Mabel hated, and… well, most people hated, but Ford didn’t seem to mind, if he did, he didn’t say anything.

“It’s sometimes unnerving how much you remind me of myself when I was young.” Ford patted Dipper’s shoulder and sat down next to him.

“You say that all the time.” Dipper set the pen down, resting his head on his hand, rolling his eyes.

Ford chuckled. “I know… So, tell me what you’ve been up to? I know there isn’t much supernatural activity in Piedmont, but surely you found something to investigate over the year.”

“Well,” Dipper thought for a moment, shrugging, “I did a research paper on the history of famous cults that deeply unsettled my English teacher, does that count?”

Ford guffawed. “Close enough! Come here, I have things to show you from mine and Stanley’s trip this year.”

Ford pulled a box from under his desk and set it on top, opening it up, he gestured for Dipper to come closer. Dipper leaned over the box, peeking inside. There were several things, mostly photos.

Over the next few hours, Ford went through all the photos, explaining to Dipper in excruciating detail what had happened before and after each one. There were a few trinkets too: A sharp tooth that Ford insisted came from a vampire he punched in the face, though he didn’t have a photo as the vampire had no reflection, a rock with a fossil of what looked like a mix between a bat and a duck and a snake, an old small locked chest with frogs carved on the outside and three gemstones, one green, one blue, and one pink, embedded on the top, and an eyeball in a jar. Ford says he has no idea where the eyeball came from, but he thought it was cool so he might use it as a Summerween decoration.

Dipper checked his watch. It was getting late, and Grunkle Stan probably wouldn’t appreciate him spending all of his shift hanging out with Ford.

“I should really go back upstairs,” Dipper said nervously, pointing behind him to the door with his thumb.

Ford seemed disappointed, but replied, “Oh, alright. I understand.” He nodded and turned to his desk.

Dipper only nodded and went back upstairs. As much as he liked hanging out with Ford, he was tired, and hardly had the energy to talk anymore, and Ford tended to talk a lot. What definitely didn’t help, though, was the silent guilt over hiding something from Ford. Dipper felt queasy every time he thought about it. Three weeks… I have to do this for three weeks at most, Dipper told himself. He had made a deal with Bill. Bill had three weeks to prove his trust, and if he did Dipper would help him steal his mysterious mcguffin. Obviously, Dipper wasn’t actually going to help Bill, but he might have to act like it if he wanted a chance of stopping Bill. Ford can’t know… He can’t know.

Dipper, now back in the gift shop, passed a glance towards Mabel, who was chatting with a customer. She looked cheerful. For some reason that seemed to unsettle him a bit. He knew Mabel had to still be stressed about… everything.

The rest of the day swept by unremarkably. Dipper stuck to his tasks to keep his mind clear, and Mabel left him alone. She probably noticed his low mood, and didn't want to bother him. Driving home was quiet, they kept the radio turned down all the way home. Mabel hummed to herself. Dipper leaned his head on the door, listening with his eyes closed. He had the window rolled down, so he could feel the wind blowing softly through his hair. It felt nice. The air smelled like rain, Dipper smiled as several small drops hit his face. It was cooling.

When they made it home, Dipper grabbed his umbrella and sat outside. Leaning back against the door to his and Mabel’s motel room, he stared out into the forest. The trees swayed slightly in the wind, and every once in a while an animal would become visible for a moment, before returning back to the woods. Dipper smiled, this was the first time his head felt clear all day. Feeling the support of the door behind him disappear for a moment, he turned to see Mabel holding two steaming plates.

“Hey,” She said, smiling.

“Hey,” He said back.

Mabel sat down next to him, handing him a plate. It was just hamburger helper, but Dipper felt his mouth water as he realized he hadn’t actually eaten since breakfast, which was a granola bar. On his lunch break, Dipper’s stomach was hurting pretty badly, so he decided not to eat. Staring at the plate in front of him, he realized that hurting might have just been hunger. Dipper gladly took the plate and in a matter of seconds he had practically inhaled it.

Mabel laughed, “What’s been up with you today? I noticed you were super tired, but you’ve been super jumpy all day. I’m starting to worry about my lil’ bro-bro.”

Dipper almost choked. “I’m sorry Mabel, I’ve just been kind of out of it. Lately it feels like I can hardly get any sleep.”

Dipper internally kicked himself for not immediately spilling the truth to Mabel, but he just had too many reasons not to tell her. Besides, it wasn’t a lie. He really couldn’t get any sleep, he just left out the part where the reason was because Bill was alive. Dipper bit his lip at his own thoughts, realizing what he was doing, and how eerily similar it was to how Bill deceived people. Dipper brushed the thought aside and decided to ignore it. He was nothing like Bill. Nothing.

“I get it,” Mabel sighed, pulling Dipper out of his own head. She had a soft smile on her face. She looked out into the woods, wistful. “I remember when we were kids, whenever it rained you would always run outside and play in it. You wouldn’t even put on a raincoat.” She laughed, shaking her head. “You’d catch a cold every time, and mom would scold you for being careless, but you never stopped.” Dipper could see tears forming in Mabel’s eyes.

Dipper looked away. Mabel has been depressed for days. He wanted it to end. He wished he could fix it. He wished he knew how to make her feel better… but he didn’t. He wasn’t ever good at this sort of thing. Mabel was the one who always listened to her heart, and other people’s too. She knew ‘feelings’, but Dipper? He wasn’t good with emotions. He sighed. Why was this so hard?

“Neither did you.” The words slipped off of Dipper’s tongue before he could even realize it.

Mabel turned to him, eyes wide and searching. In a moment, she smiled, and laughed.

“I guess you’re right. I did like splashing in puddles a lot.” She wiped her eyes.

“I think you mean splashing me in puddles.” Dipper smirked. He could distinctly remember going outside while it was raining, and Mabel would follow him around splashing in puddles, purposely getting as much muddy water on him as possible.

“Pft!” Mabel waved her hand off, dismissing. “Collateral damage.”

“Fine, water under the bridge.” He rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to argue, not when he had finally gotten her to feel better.

“Actually I think the water was on you.” She grinned.

Dipper gave her a look, but he couldn’t hide the affectionate smile tugging at his mouth. Mabel giggled.

“I can tell you’re trying not to smile.”

“Am not.” Dipper shrugged.

“Are too.” Mabel poked his shoulder.

“Am not.” Dipper pushed her hand away.

“Are too.” She poked him again.

“Am not.” Okay, maybe Dipper is not doing the greatest at the whole “not arguing with her” thing.

“Yes, you are! I can see it!” Mabel was laughing and reaching for Dipper’s face while he continuously tried to turn away.

“Shut up!” He could feel his face heating up.

“You shut up!”

“No, you!”

“No, you!”

Dipper pulled his hoodie over his head and pulled on the strings until his entire face was obscured. Look, sometimes siblings have a way of making you act like a child, okay? He could hear Mabel laughing hysterically.

“You’re such a dork!” She reached over and pulled Dipper’s hoodie open.

“Am not!” Dipper protested.

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“At least I don’t sleep with stuffed animals.” Yes, change the subject, that’s the solution.

“At least I don’t sleep with, like, eighteen books in my bed at once, with a journal under my pillow.”

“Books are enrichment for the mind!” Dipper’s voice cracked. “You have an entire bookshelf filled with nothing but stickers.”

“Stickers are also enrichment for the mind!” Mabel crossed her arms.

Dipper laughed. “Are they? Are your three gallons of neon glitter also enrichment for your mind?”

Mabel’s face turned red. “...Yes.”

“Really?” Dipper laughed harder.

“Completely, one hundred percent.” Mabel crossed her arms.

“Mhm,” Dipper chuckled. The rain was beginning to fall harder and harder. “You wanna head inside?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Mabel smiled, shivering.

Dipper got up, stretched his limbs and opened the door. He stepped inside, holding his umbrella out the door and shaking it off before bringing it in and setting it in the closet. Mabel came in after. She walked over to the sink and started ringing out her hair. Dipper smiled devilishly, walked up right next to her, and shook his head as fast as possible, getting rainwater all over her.

“Ah! Dipper!” Mabel glared at him for a moment, before smirking. Oh no, Dipper thought. Mabel spun around, her long wet hair slapping Dipper across face. Dipper was surprised by the force of it. How could hair get so heavy? He rubbed his face and stuck his tongue out at Mabel.

“You’re so childish, Dip-stick.” Mabel rolled her eyes and giggled.

“Right, because you’re obviously so mature.” Dipper gave her a knowing look.

She blew a raspberry at him and headed over to the couch, where she flopped down with a thud. Dipper followed, and sat on the floor, since Mabel had promptly sprawled all over the couch with a satisfied grin over her face.

Dipper grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. There weren’t many channels, just the news and the general Gravity Falls Public Access TV. They were playing re-runs of “Nearly Almost Dead, But Not Quite!” Dipper decided it was a good enough movie to watch with his sister. As he leaned back onto the side of the couch, he felt a big, soft, rectangle of stuffed fabric wallop him in the face. Mabel had hit him with a pillow. She giggled, standing on the couch in her socks. He glared up at her, before rushing to his bed, grabbing a pillow, and hurling it at her. She jumped off the bed, grabbed the pillow, and started barraging Dipper with double pillow-punches. Dipper pulled his pillow out of her grasp and started hitting her back. Laughing, they chased each other around the room, whacking eachother with pillows while “Nearly Almost Dead But Not Quite!” played in the background. He could even hear the dying screams of Trixandra as Mabel hit him in the face again.

After a while of laughing, and fighting, and hitting each other in the face with pillows, Dipper and Mabel finally collapsed back down on the couch. Dipper rested his head on the back of the couch, and he felt a heavy thud on his shoulder. He looked down to see Mabel had fallen asleep on him. He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. He picked her up, and placed her gently on her bed before sighing. He wished he could just fall asleep, but he had an agreement.

Grabbing his bag and putting on his shoes, Dipper escaped into the night. Breath heavy in his chest, he trudged through the woods. Groaning, he brought his hand up to his temple. He felt like he had been grabbed by the head and shook around for several hours.

Dipper pulled his jacket tighter, shivering, as he waded his way through the forest to Bill’s statue. It was still getting unusually cold at night. Stepping over fallen branches and rocks, he neared the clearing where Bill waited for him. Dipper’s breath hitched in his throat as his eyes landed on Bill. Bill was sitting on the ground, leaning up against his statue, staring at his hands. He seemed transfixed by them. Dipper took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

Bill’s eye looked up from his hands while his face remained in the same transfixed expression. An unsettling smile spread itself over his face. Dipper shifted, swallowing a lump in his throat. At least he’s not putting a knife to my throat, Dipper thought, which, granted, was a low bar, but one that he was still thankful Bill managed to step over.

“Good morning, Pine Tree.”

Bill grabbed his cane and pulled himself up from the ground. Dipper watched as he shifted his weight onto it before pulling himself up, how for a split second his eyebrows knitted together in either pain or frustration or something in between. Odd. Dipper was certainly aware of Bill’s power, but the way Bill carried himself wasn’t exactly reminiscent of the all powerful glowing triangle he remembered. Dipper still held the faded memory of when Bill possessed him, how he had struggled walking in a body and apparently had his powers limited by it. Dipper wondered if there was something about being in a body that made Bill weaker, or made it harder for him to use his powers in some way. Then again, back when Bill possessed him, he was trying to pass himself off as Dipper to Mabel and the others, so maybe he just didn’t use his powers because of that. Still, there was no way of knowing at this point. Dipper needed to find a way to get Bill to talk about himself—something that Dipper was sure Bill would be delighted to do… in any circumstance except for the one where Dipper was trying to find his weaknesses and get rid of him for good.

“Uhm, morning.” Dipper coughed, and crossed his arms.

Bill tilted his head at him, smiling still. “Just ‘morning?’ No ‘good?’”

“Not to you.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Charming.” Bill walked over to Dipper, standing next to him with little regard for personal space.

Dipper glared at him. Does he have to look so smug all the damn time? Bill looked up at him and smirked. Dipper wanted to audibly groan.

Bill smiled at him strangely, staring at him. Dipper wondered if he was reading his mind right now. Ooh, that would be bad, Dipper stared back at Bill, looking him in the eyes, Pancake penguins thrive on moonlight and misplaced socks. That was Dipper’s go to phrase to see if someone was reading his mind. Judging by the lack of change in expression on Bill’s face, Dipper assured himself that his mind was not being read at the moment, instead, Bill was just being a weirdo and staring at him. Dipper wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than mind reading.

“So, I take it you have all you need for your stupid ritual, and that’s why we’re not mutilating some innocent forest creature right now?”

Bill laughed. “You’re funny, Pine Tree! No, we’re not even close to having everything. I was going to let you decide what we would do tonight—” Dipper’s head snapped down to look at him, to which Bill only laughed, “—but seeing as you’re just so eager to help me tonight, perhaps we’ll go ahead and do it my way.”

Dipper wanted to strangle him.

Bill met Dipper’s gaze with smug satisfaction.

“Fuck you,” Dipper almost growled at Bill.

“Aren’t you delightful?” Bill laughed.

Dipper rolled his eyes, groaning. This was going to be the longest three weeks of his life. Bill dug through a brown satchel he had been carrying, and pulled out a container. He brought it up to his face to peer into, apparently checking its size.

“Well?” Dipper asked. “What did you have planned?”

Bill smirked and set the container back in the bag. “Ever heard of the invisible wizard?”

Dipper had. He nodded. Dipper had studied Ford’s journal’s in and out. There was a page in journal three describing Ford’s run in with an apparent invisible wizard. (One that for some reason, Ford assumed would be hot?) When Dipper ran the blacklight over the page, it revealed that hiding behind whatever magic made the wizard invisible, was a hideous sludge monster. Ford had apparently borrowed Mcgucket’s omni-spectra glasses which had revealed what the wizard truly was.

Bill continued. “He was actually an old friend of mine. We met back in the dark ages—fun times, really—back when he went by Xgqrthx the unpronounceable—”

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” Dipper wasn’t entirely sure what Bill had said or even what he had heard.

“No. Anyway, back then we were pretty close. Two peas in a pod, you know? That is, until he betrayed me by trapping me in a magic orb for several centuries and forcing me to dance like a jester!” Bill’s face got heated as he spoke disdainfully about this apparent ex friend. “So, once I broke out, I cursed him and the whole damn era. I had cursed Xgqrthx—” Dipper still had trouble catching what the hell he said, “—to be immortal. At least, his mind anyway. I had permanently tied his soul to his body so that as he aged he would slowly decay and consume other dead things to sustain his body until he was unrecognizable.”

Dipper stared in horror at Bill for a moment, who seemed entirely unbothered by this description. Sucking in a breath, Dipper rubbed his temple and said, “Just so we’re fully clear on this, you’re trying to gain my trust with this?”

“Hm? Yes, why?” Bill asked. Dipper stared at him. Eventually picking up on Dipper’s astonishment and disgust, Bill scoffed. “Whatever, that is hardly the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“That– That doesn’t make it better. You– You see that that doesn’t make it better, right?” Dipper asked, half flabbergasted, half telling himself he should’ve expected this.

Bill rolled his eyes. “Fine. I won’t ever do it again. Happy now?”

“No, not at all. “ Dipper crossed his arms and looked off into the distance, mind still on qwertyuiop, or whatever his name was. “What does any of this have to do with what you need for the ritual?”

“Hm? Oh, we need his teeth,” Bill answered, calmly.

Dipper slowly turned his head around to stare at Bill.

“We need his what now?”

“The ritual calls for the teeth of someone you’ve wronged,” Bill shrugged, then paused, and said to himself, “Man, it’d suck if the person you wronged, you did so by pulling out their teeth. Then you’d be kind of screwed.”

Dipper groaned, rubbing his temple. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could physically handle. Bill was somewhere between too eccentric about most things, and too calm about very disturbing things.

“Do I have to help you with this?” Dipper asked.

Bill shrugged. “Got any better ideas, Pine Tree?”

Dipper shifted, uncomfortable. “Fine. I’ll help find your weird cursed wizard, but I’m not helping you pull out his teeth… and, while we’re looking for him, you have to answer any question I ask you.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. “Only on the condition that I can choose not to answer three questions.”

“Deal.” Dipper nodded. That was fair enough.

“Deal, but no funny business on that. You can’t ask me a question but then phrase it slightly differently next time so I have to answer alright?”

“Alright.” Dipper agreed.

Bill reached into his bag and pulled out what looked like bright purple night-vision goggles from the 1800s with baby blue polka dots on them, but uglier. Dipper cringed.

“Put these on. The invisible wizard leaves a trail, and you’ll be able to see it and him with these on. I have my own pair.” Bill handed the goggles to Dipper, who begrudgingly put them on. Bill put on his own pair that somehow looked even worse than the ones Dipper was wearing.

Bill searched around the area for a while, Dipper followed, until they spotted what looked like a green glowing trail of slime running over the ground. Dipper took it that that was the invisible wizard’s trail. He followed Bill on the trail, and pulled out his journal. He pulled off the goggles to read. He was just going to follow Bill anyway. Dipper flipped to the last page he had written on. He had a list of questions he had been wanting to ask.

“Alright, first question, where have you been this whole time?”

“On trial.” Bill didn’t look at him when he answered.

Dipper waited for an elaboration, so when none came, he asked, “What do you mean? On trial for what? With who?”

“What wasn’t I on trial for?” Bill laughed. “I was on trial with the Supreme Court of Immortal Justice. They’re this big fancy group of soul entities who have made it their job to punish immortal criminals like me. Their whole schtick is that since they can’t assign the death sentence to us, and any prison time would be laughable, they come up with unique individualized punishments for criminals with the aim of redeeming us.”

Dipper would have laughed at the thought of Bill redeeming himself, if his mind wasn’t so busy processing the amount of information he had just been given, and a million and one questions he wanted to ask about the interdimensional judicial system, and what “soul entities” were, and what kind of punishments could they give out, and how powerful they were.

“So what was the punishment they gave you?” Was the question Dipper settled on asked next.

“Pass.”

“What? You can’t pass that!” Dipper griped.

“Yes, I can. I get three passes, remember?” Bill smirked.

Dipper grumbled. He was regretting agreeing to that. “Fine, what’s a soul entity?”

“A soul entity is any sentient being whose physical body is formed by the soul itself rather than surrounding matter. Think like angels, demons, ghosts, and spirits and shit.”

Dipper blinked, trying to process what that meant. He was really just trying to wrap his mind around how a soul can form a physical body. He was under the impression that souls were either not real or an intangible concept that could not be observed as matter.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn't expect a human to get it.” Bill said.

Dipper huffed. Does he have to be so condescending?. He didn’t like not understanding things. “How are soul entities born?”

“Well, when a mommy soul entity, and a daddy soul entity love each other very much—”

“STOP!” Dipper interrupted, “Stop, stop, I do not need to hear about the intricacies of demon reproduction!”

Bill laughed. “You asked.”

“You could’ve just said it’s the same way humans do it!” Dipper kicked the back of Bill’s legs. He stumbled, but regained his balance fairly quickly.

“Well, that wouldn’t be entirely honest. There are two ways soul entities can be born. There’s the horizontal tango, and there’s the other thing.” Bill mused. Dipper raised an eyebrow. How he managed to dance around actually explaining things was both infuriating and... no, it was mostly just infuriating.

“Elaborate,” Dipper growled.

“Soul entities can be born when a soul gets trapped in between dimensions. Generally, a soul attaches itself to, usually living, matter to give it life. When that life is over, the soul leaves the body and zaps itself across the multiverse to start a life in a new dimension. Sometimes, they get stuck in the space between dimensions. Without substance to attach itself onto, the soul forms a body out of itself. The stuff that makes up a soul entity's body is basically a hyper-compressed proton.”

Dipper stopped walking and began rapidly writing in his journal. He wasn't even embarrassed, really, to find this interesting. Dipper wondered how much he could actually learn about the universe from Bill if Bill wasn't so determined to piss him off all the time.

Bill smirked and continued. “Soul entities born that way are considered primordials, and are incredibly rare. Since the in-between of dimensions has gotten so cluttered and polluted, it’s formed the ever-shifting place known as the nightmare realm. Now, almost all souls who get stuck in between dimensions become monsters and nightmares.”

Dipper stopped writing and looked up at Bill. “Your friends, your henchmaniacs or whatever, they weren’t demons, right? They were just monsters?”

Bill nodded. “Any more questions, Pine Tree?”

“Yes, uhm, next question: when we first met here Tuesday night, you said that the body you’re in was yours, right?” Dipper watched Bill as he waited for an answer.

“Yes?” Bill said, as though he wasn’t really sure why Dipper had asked.

“How? How did you get it? How long have you had it? Back when Weirdmaggedon happened, you acted like gaining a physical form was some huge accomplishment, but if you had this body back then, why didn’t you use it before?”

“Geez, kid, one question at a time, please!” Bill complained, sitting down on the ground to rest for a moment. “I was born with this body, alright? I didn’t use it before because it was.. out of my reach.”

Dipper thought about that. “Out of your reach? How so?”

“Pass.” Bill brought his knees up to his chest as he sat against the tree behind him, leaning his head against the bark. He pulled his goggles off.

“You’ve said before that you were born in the second dimension.”

That wasn’t really a question, but Bill answered, “Yes,” looking completely disinterested by this conversation by now.

“How could you have been born in that body in the second dimension?” Dipper questioned. “You’re very clearly three dimensional right now.”

“The dimension I’m from is called ‘The Second dimension.’”

Dipper paused. He blinked. “What?”

“Every dimension has a name, the dimension I’m from is called ‘The Second dimension.’” The faint ghost of a smirk rested on Bill’s lips as he explained this, clearly enjoying Dipper’s confusion.

Dipper took a deep breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know.” Bill laughed. Dipper stared at him for another moment, searching his expression.

“Wait, wait, wait…” Dipper turned the information around in his mind, trying to make sense of it with what he already knew about Bill. He sat down next to him. “You were very clearly two dimensional when we met. You were a triangle. Again, back in Weirdmageddon you wanted so badly to have a three dimensional form. If you were already three dimensional, what was the point of any of that?”

“Back when we met…” Bill paused, looking Dipper in the eyes, “I was in an astrally projected form. When beings of my particular species of demon astrally project, we take the form of something at a lower dimensional level than the one we already inhabit.”

“That doesn’t answer my second question, though. You were so excited to have a three dimensional form. What was that all about?” Dipper questioned.

“I already told you, I wasn’t in a position where I could use my own body, so I had to wait until I had the power to make my own.”

“But why couldn’t you—”

“I said, ‘pass.” Bill glared at him. Dipper grumbled. He did agree not to ask the same question twice.

“Fine,” he huffed, pausing for a moment. “You told Ford your world was flat.”

“Hm? What?”

“When you had him trapped in your pyramid—”

“Fearamid,” Bill corrected.

Dipper glared at him. “Fearamid... he told me how you talked about your home dimension. He said you described it as ‘flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams, that’s what he said anyway. If you’re really from a three dimensional world, what did you mean by that?”

Something flickered in Bill’s eye for a moment, and the glow seemed to fade slightly. He turned away from Dipper, and stared at the ground. “Pass.”

Dipper stared at Bill. Why did he pass that question? That was nothing! Sure, it was an important detail that Dipper would’ve liked to know, but why would Bill not want to tell him? Why was he so secretive?

“That’s your last pass, Bill.”

“I know.” His voice was quiet.

Dipper looked back down at his journal, surveying the questions. He had so much more he wanted to know, and now that Bill was out of passes, he could basically ask him anything and Bill would have to answer, but… Dipper glanced up at Bill again. Bill was trying to avoid eye contact with him, but there was something about his face, about his expression, that made Dipper think that he was being secretive for non-deceptive reasons. He seemed… sad, like he didn’t want to answer the question because he himself didn’t want to hear it. Dipper’s brows furrowed. He turned back to the pages of the book. He flipped backwards through them, until his eyes landed on a certain note. In the margins of the paper, Dipper had written “What is Bill’s favorite flower? Dipper’s face immediately flushed red as he read the question, remembering how he had written in before he knew Bill was back. He glanced up at Bill. Face red, he took a deep breath.

“Last question, then we can go back to finding your wizard.”

“Shoot.” Bill didn’t turn to look at him when he spoke.

“What’s your favorite flower?” Dipper felt incredibly stupid when he asked it. Why, oh why, did he decide to ask that?

Bill turned around, facing him. His eye went wide. “What?”

“What’s your favorite flower?” Dipper repeated, his face flushed red.

Bill stared at him, blinking, brows furrowing as he contemplated what Dipper was asking him, and more importantly, why. Dipper slowly began to think that Bill simply wasn’t going to answer, and swallowed the lump in his throat, turning back to his journal to scratch out the question.

“Blue hydrangeas.”

Dipper looked up and stared at Bill, eyes wide. Bill seemed calm still, but his face seemed slightly redder than it had been. They were just… staring at each other now. Bill’s eye was a shimmering gold, with a dim glow that highlighted Bill’s face but not much else. Dipper choked on his words. What was he supposed to say after that? First he asked the most stupid and embarrassing question he could have possibly thought of and then Bill actually answered.

“What’s yours?” Bill asked.

Dipper shifted. “Uhm, I don’t know… I don’t really know much about flowers, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s okay.” Bill nodded, an unreadable expression on his face.

They sat in silence for a while. Dipper’s face felt hot. He was regretting so many actions at once. Bill stood up. Dipper looked up at him.

“Well, you said that was your last question, so get up, we have a wizard to find,” Bill said bluntly.

Dipper stared at him. Face still feeling hot, he nodded and stood up. Bill put his goggles back on, and Dipper did the same. Bill didn’t waste time as he began following the trail again, humming something. Dipper followed, putting his journal away and deciding on asking minimal questions from then on. Something told him that Bill was going to find a way out of answering him anyway.

They walked for what felt like hours, when Bill stopped. The first thing Dipper noticed was when he was hit by a wall of pungent sulfur smell. He pinched his nose at first, then decided to let go because breathing through his nose and smelling it was better than breathing through his mouth and tasting it. He actually gagged. Bill seemed perfectly fine, though Dipper wasn’t sure if that was just because he was happy to have found their target, or if he was genuinely just used to smelling dead bodies. Dipper wanted it to be the former, but he also knew it was probably the latter.

Bill snuck closer. Dipper glanced over Bill to hopefully see the wizard, and he instantly regretted it. Ford had been able to more clearly see the wizard when he borrowed Mcgucket’s omni-spectra goggles, but Bill’s goggles were apparently much more advanced than those because nothing in Ford’s journal could have conveyed this. Before him, in the vague shape of a wizard, was a monstrous glob of rotting flesh. Dipper held back several gags. At first glance he just looked like a weird gloopy slime monster, but looking closer he could see that that “gloop” was actually dripping, rotting flesh. Melted skin overlapping itself, random bones poked out in various places, a gross, bony, deformed hand stuck out of its sluggish arms, a greenish slush of internal organs was visible through huge holes in the creature's skin, Dipper then realized that those holes were in fact the monster's eyes and mouth.

“You hold it down while I pull out its teeth,” Bill whispered to him.

“I am not touching that thing.” Dipper whispered. Bill rolled his eye.

“You’re gonna have to.”

“I will not.”

He did. He held the horrible, horrible, mush of gloopy corpses down while Bill pulled out large chunks of bone that Dipper supposed were the wizard’s teeth. Dipper held his breath the entire time, feeling far too gross for comfort. In fact, it was painful.

“I. HATE. YOU.” Dipper choked out, gagging from the stench and the… everything.

Bill was laughing maniacally. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s not sentient. You don’t have to feel bad for stealing his teeth.”

“That is not the only problem here.” Dipper growled.

After releasing the wizard, Dipper could smell the rot on his clothes. He shivered. He was burning everything he was wearing when he got home, and then he would take a long long shower… in boiling water… no, in bleach, boiling bleach.

∆∆∆

Well, the water wasn’t boiling—nor was it bleach—but it was as hot as Dipper could physically make it, and he scrubbed his entire body until his skin was raw. Well, it might have also been the heat. Dipper wasn’t really sure if the reddish hue of his skin when he got out was due to having burned himself in the water, or if he had actually scrubbed off a layer of skin, more likely both, but he felt like he was on fire and that was enough. After his shower, he picked up his clothes with a pair of tongs and threw them away. Then, he threw the tongs away. Then, putting on thick rubber gloves and a surgical mask, he scrubbed the part of the floor he set the clothes on with bleach. Then he threw away the gloves. Then he took the trash can outside and set it on fire.

At some point, he woke Mabel up.

“Hmnmrrggmnrnnnnn?” She grumbled, tossing over and creaking her eyes open, “Dip? What’re you doin’ awake?”

“Getting rid of evidence,” He replied nonchalantly, knowing very well she wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning.

“Mhhmm, okay.” She turned again, and the snoring returned.

Dipper smiled.

Chapter Text

It was early Thursday morning, Bill swung his legs back and forth at the kitchen table while Tad made breakfast. Bill stared at the wooden table below him, noticing all of the small scratches and splinters that covered it. There were several ring shaped stains dotting around the surface. Tad usually had a purple tablecloth that he used to cover the table, but Bill had spilled orange juice all over it the other day and now it was in the wash. Bill was surprised to see the imperfections on the table underneath. Tad had always had the tablecloth on so why was the table so scratched and stained up? Bill glanced up at Tad.

Tad wasn’t humming this morning. His face seemed a little sunken. Bill wondered if he had somehow woken him up when he was sneaking in and out of the house last night, but Tad would have said something if that were the case. Tad set Bill’s plate in front of him and sat across the table.

Tad stared at his own plate, having apparently lost his appetite. His eyes looked distant, like he was standing in a dark room with no light or windows. By the time Tad actually took a bite, Bill was half sure his food had to be cold. Tad made a face and stood up. He wrapped his plate in a plastic wrap and set it in the fridge.

Bill sat with his head in the sink and the water going while he watched Tad get ready for work. Tad combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and tied his shoes. All of this was completely pointless in Bill’s mind, because two seconds after, Tad would snap his fingers and transform into a completely different person.

“I’ll be back soon. I love you.” Tad gave Bill a kiss on the forehead, and left.

Bill watched Tad leave with a grimace. Tad had smiled at him before he left, but his eyes didn’t crinkle in the corners like they usually did, and they glimmered slightly like they were wet. Bill had seen that smile many times before, and to this day he couldn’t tell what it meant.

Bill sighed. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing—feelings. He sat alone in the kitchen, unmoving, as if he were waiting for something; as if he were waiting for Tad to come back through the door and stay with him. Bill stared at the door. His mouth felt dry, and his head felt cold. This was all so frustrating.

Bill sat in his wheelchair in the kitchen for hours. He didn’t move. Normally, this is when he’d escape his straitjacket and find something to do. Bill let his head slump against the back of the chair. He stared at the ceiling. It was a pale ivory color, and it was rough, like someone had crushed eggshells onto it before laying the paint down. Bill wondered why anyone would want their ceiling to look like that, but he wondered about a lot of things Tad. Why Tad kept up his demonic appearance even though he disguised himself every morning anyway, why Tad made them both breakfast and dinner every day, despite that there were really no consequences to them to simply not eat at all, why Tad offered to read to him every afternoon, why Tad didn’t let him just lay in bed all day when Bill had nothing better to do that he knew of, why Tad always asked if he’d like to go somewhere and visit the town, why Tad was so dedicated to taking care of him when he didn’t need it, why Tad had ever adopted him in the first place… The list went on and on.

∆∆∆

∆ F O U R Y E A R S A G O ∆

“Somebody, please, tell me why the hell he’s still alive!?” A tall man with long, straight, blood red hair and greyish skin shouted from one end of the courtroom. Bill Cipher’s brother, in reference to him.

“Killian Cipher, restrain yourself.” The judge said; the demon with a white suit, white hair, and white eye. Bill had learned by then that their name was Pi.

Bill sat roughly in the center of the courtroom, stuck in his physical body, in a straitjacket, strapped by leather belts to a thick slab of stone, in a cage. Bill thought it was a little overkill.

“He should be dead for all he’s done!” Kill’s voice rasped.

Bill laughed. Couldn’t agree more.

“He’s a demon. He can’t be killed.” Someone had argued.

“Tell that to the thousands of lost souls who died in that damned fire!” Killian’s voice was laced with gravel. His eyes glowed red, baring his sharp teeth in seething anger.

“We don’t know the full story.” Tad’s voice. Bill’s sole defender in a sea of enemies.

“I don’t give a damn what the full story is! It doesn’t change what we’ve lost.” Bill could only picture Kill balling up his fists and snarling at Tad as he speaks. Bill didn’t dare look at him; he knew better than that.

Don’t meet his eyes, he told himself, You won’t like what you see.

Bill heard loud shouting, but by then his ears were ringing too loud for him to hear what was being said. The sound of doors slamming and then silence. Bill assumed Kill had been taken forcefully out of the courtroom.

∆∆∆

Bill stared down into the sink, coughing. He clutched the side of the counter, holding himself up as he panted and choked on blood spilling out of his mouth. He blinked rapidly. How did I get here? Bill looked around. His wheelchair had been knocked over onto the floor, and his straitjacket was crumpled on the floor. Bill’s hand slipped and he winced. He fell backwards onto the floor. His wrists stung, and when he looked at his hands, they were covered in his own blood, several deep cuts on his arm. He cursed. He didn’t remember doing that. He looked around for his cane, but couldn’t see it anywhere.

Bill grabbed the counter ledge again, pulling his body up. He winced as he had to put weight on his legs. Dull aching in his legs made the muscles in his knees contract, he shook, trying to balance his weight. His feet felt like blocks of wood; not part of his body, but weight he had to carry around. It got better as it ran up his legs, but his knees were the worst of it. In all honesty, he needed more than a cane, it would help with the pain, but Bill resented the idea of needing more than he had. He hated that he needed a cane in the first place. Tad used to joke with him that he’d let his legs fall off before he let himself use anything else. He was probably right, but Bill didn’t care. He didn’t care if he was in pain, he was always in pain. At least it reminded him he was alive in his body.

Bill was tired of thinking. He was tired of remembering. He was tired of seeing things. He morosely rinsed his hands off. He dragged his body to the cabinet where he knew Tad kept his first aid kit. He wrapped up his hands and wrists. He didn’t think he had any other injuries, it was hard to tell sometimes, but it really didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he closed off any spots that were bleeding so that Tad wouldn’t see. Bill cleaned up the sink and floor of blood, before repositioning his wheelchair where it was before Tad left, pulling himself back into the straitjacket, and pretending like he hadn’t moved all day.

When Tad came home, he helped Bill to his room. He made dinner later than usual. Bill wondered what had kept him. Not that it bothered him, it didn’t really matter if he ate, but Tad was an annoyingly punctual person. Tad brought him into the kitchen for dinner, then carried him to bed. It wasn’t until Tad had told him ‘Goodnight,’ had Bill realized that was the only word Tad had spoken all evening.

Bill lay stiffly in bed, staring at the ceiling with furrowed brows. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot… for no reason. No reason at all.

It had been an unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation, when Bill felt the hot prickle of tears in his eyes. The concept itself confounded Bill. He wasn’t sure why he cried. He thought nothing when it happened, and he felt nothing. He still felt nothing. Mouth dry, his lips were cracked and his tongue was like thick sandpaper against his gums. He listened, quietly. He heard the sound of dishes clinking in the sink as Tad cleaned the kitchen. The high pitched whistle of the tea kettle before he sat in the living room for a while. Bill was fairly familiar with Tad’s evening routine at this point. It wasn’t until he heard the quiet click of the living room lamp being turned off and the shuffle of footsteps past his door that Bill was sure Tad went to bed. After that, he waited for about an hour for Tad to fall asleep. Feeling like he had swallowed gravel and cut open his throat, he dragged himself out of bed, clutching his cane. His hands still felt numb, so he had to watch closely to keep them from slipping.

He pushed the window open with a grunt, climbing on top of his dresser to throw himself outside. He let himself fall, feeling twigs and sharp rocks dig into his stomach as he landed. He pulled himself up lazily and limped through the forest. He felt heavy dragging himself forward. When he arrived at his and Pine Tree’s meeting place, he fell forward and slumped against his statue. Shifting until he found a comfortable position, he sighed. A moment passed, and he felt an uncomfortable pressure rising in his chest. He realized, after probably a concerningly long time, that he had forgotten to breathe. He inhaled deeply. When did breathing become this difficult?

He sat under the pale moonlight, against his own statue, and stared at his hands. He could feel the bandages under his gloves restricting the flexibility of his hand. His fingers were cold and numb. His fingernails had already started growing back to their original shape. He assumed they’d be back to normal in maybe two days. He heard someone approaching.

“Good morning, Pine Tree,” He greeted.

Bill stood up. Pine Tree was keeping an oddly close eye on him as he did so. Bill raised an eyebrow.

“Uhm, morning.”

“Just ‘morning?’ No ‘good?’” Bill teased.

Pine Tree scoffed and grumpily replied, “Not to you.”

“Charming.” Bill had said it sarcastically, but he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t find Pine Tree’s disdain for him to be frankly adorable.

“So, I take it you have all you need for your stupid ritual, and that’s why we’re not mutilating some innocent forest creature right now?” Pine Tree glanced around, swinging one leg back and forth, bored.

“You’re funny, Pine Tree. No, we’re not even close to having everything. I was going to let you decide what we would do tonight—” The speed at which Pine Tree snapped his head towards Bill was comical, “—but seeing as you’re just so eager to help me tonight, perhaps we’ll go ahead and do it my way.”

“Fuck you.” Pine Tree was glaring at Bill the way a dog glares at a mailman he’s been trained not to chase.

“You’re just delightful today, aren’t you?” Bill cheered. He searched through his bag for the container he had brought, checking if it was big enough before setting it back into his back.

“Well? What did you have planned?”

“Ever heard of the invisible wizard?” Bill smirked.

Pine Tree nodded.

“He was actually an old friend of mine,” Bill explained. “We met back in the dark ages—fun times, really—back when he went by Xgqrthx the unpronounceable…”

“Wait, can you say that again?” Pine Tree asked.

“No.” Bill continued explaining his history with Xgqrthx. As he did, Pine Tree slowly began to stare at him as though there was something bothering him.

“Just so we’re fully clear on this, you’re trying to gain my trust with this?” Pine Tree asked.

“Yes, why?” Bill asked. What was Pine Tree freaking out about? It wasn’t that big of a deal. “Whatever, that is hardly the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“That– That doesn’t make it better. You– You see that that doesn’t make it better, right?”

“Fine. I won’t ever do it again. Happy now?” It wasn’t a lie, Bill probably wouldn’t ever use such a specific curse on anyone again; he liked giving people unique torture methods. It was more special that way.

“No, not at all,” Pine Tree said. Now really, he’s just being argumentative at this point. “What does any of this have to do with what you need or the ritual?”

“We need his teeth,” Bill answered.

“We need his what now?” Seriously, can he not keep up?

“The ritual calls for the teeth of someone you’ve wronged,” Bill explained. He thought about that for a moment. Man, it’d suck if the person you wronged, you did so by pulling out their teeth. Then you’re kind of screwed. Well, I guess you’ve probably wronged more than one person, and who knows? Maybe you kept the teeth from the first time, or, wait, does pulling out their teeth for the ritual in the first place count as wronging them? It probably does, but then you could just pull out anyone’s teeth for the ritual, and that’s way less fun.

“Do I have to help you with this?”

“Yes.” Not really. Nothing about this job really required having another person present, but Bill was slowly beginning to enjoy Pine Tree’s company.

Pine Tree ended up agreeing to find the wizard with Bill, but only if he can ask him questions the whole time, because obviously that won’t be distracting at all. Bill gave Pine Tree a pair of Tad’s ugly goggles to see the invisible weirdo and they began to follow his trail.

“Alright, first question, where have you been this whole time?” Pine Tree asked. What was that supposed to mean? Did he mean the time since they saw each other last? The time between Bill getting here and when he and Pine Tree met? The time between Bill coming here now and when he got zapped into the Axolotl’s domain after Weirdmageddon? Can he be any more specific at all?

“On trial.” Bill settled that Pine Tree was probably asking about the time between Weirdmageddon and now. That made enough sense.

“What do you mean? On trial for what?” Does he really mean that? “With who?” At least one of those questions wasn’t completely stupid.

“What wasn’t I on trial for?” Bill faked a laugh. Pine Tree didn’t laugh. Why didn’t he laugh? Wasn’t it funny? Bill’s stomach hurt. Since when was he so bad at this? He cleared his throat. “I was on trial with the Supreme Court of Immortal Justice. They’re basically this big fancy group of soul entities who have made it their job to punish immortal criminals like me. Their whole schtick is that since they can’t assign the death sentence to us, and any prison time would be laughable, they come up with unique individualized punishments for criminals with the aim of redeeming us.” Bill explained, putting the word redeeming in very dramatic air quotes.

The look on Pine Tree’s face made him think that he thought the idea of Bill redeeming himself was just as laughable as he did. For some reason that didn’t make Bill feel better.

“So what was the punishment they gave you?”

Bill shifted. He didn’t want to answer that. Sure, Pine Tree was likely to find out Bill was powerless eventually, but for now, the more afraid Pine Tree is of him, the better. Bill wouldn’t be surprised if the only reason Pine Tree was being this cooperative was because he didn’t want Bill to shuffle his face holes. There was a slight chance that revealing he’s lost his powers might make Pine Tree more privy to trust him, but ugggggghhhh! I. don’t. want. to. do. that!

“Pass.”

“What? You can’t pass that!”

“I get three passes, remember?” Bill reminded.

Pine Tree looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he asked, “What’s a soul entity?”

Bill bit his lip. How the fuck do I explain this? Bill hardly understood some of the mumbo jumbo that was his biology himself. He hadn’t exactly been updated on any information since, like, third grade demon school thirty trillion years ago.

“Uhhhhh, a soul entity is any sentient being whose physical body is formed by the soul itself rather than surrounding matter.” Did Bill rip that line directly from an interdimensional pamphlet he found while burning down a Denny’s that had fallen into the Nightmare realm? Yes. Was he desperately trying to word this as though he understood any of it at all? Also yes. “Think like angels, demons, ghosts, and spirits and shit.” Bill turned back to face Pine Tree. He seemed lost in thought. Bill added, “Don’t feel bad. I wouldn’t expect a human to get it.” Was he using this as an excuse for not explaining it further because he doesn’t actually understand it himself but for some reason he feels the need to prove his intelligence in every situation anyway? Again, yes.

“How are soul entities born?” Pine Tree asked.

Sure, Bill could’ve answered with a description of how souls that get trapped in between dimensions and therefore cannot attach their life force to any physical matter instead implode on themselves to compose a body out of the semi-tangible energetic aspects of the aura in what is essentially the composition of all that exists in the universes most close to it… but the infinitely funnier answer would be, “Well, when a mommy soul entity, and a daddy soul entity love each other very much—”

“STOP! Stop, stop, stop…” Pine Tree screamed. Bill had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing hysterically at this.

“You asked.” Bill shrugged, grinning.

“You could’ve just said it’s the same way humans do it!”

Bill felt something hit the back of his knees. Hissing, he stumbled forward, legs aching. He glared at Pine Tree. Huffing, he said, “Well, that wouldn’t be entirely honest. There are two ways a soul entity can be born. There’s the horizontal tango—” Bill laughed at himself, “—and there’s the other thing.” Bill smiled mischievously, discreetly rubbing his leg where Pine Tree kicked him.

“Elaborate.” Pine Tree grumbled, glaring at Bill.

“Soul entities can be born when a soul gets trapped in between dimensions. Generally, a soul attaches itself to, usually living, matter to give it life. When that life is over, the soul leaves the body and zaps itself across the multiverse to start a life in a new dimension. Sometimes, they get stuck in the space between dimensions. Without substance to attach itself onto, the soul forms a body out of itself. The stuff that makes up a soul entity's body is basically a hyper-compressed proton.”

Bill turned around to gauge Pine Tree’s reaction. He was writing it down in a white and blue journal with a pine tree on it. Cute. Bill decided to continue. “Soul entities born that way are considered primordials, and are incredibly rare. Since the in-between of dimensions has gotten so cluttered and polluted, it’s formed the ever shifting place known as the nightmare realm. Now, almost all souls who get stuck in between dimensions become monsters and nightmares.”

“You’re friends, the henchmaniacs or whatever, they were monsters, right? They weren’t demons like you?”

“Ding ding ding,” Bill smiled. He catches on quickly. “Any more questions?”

“Yes, uhm, next question: when we first met here Tuesday night, you said that the body you’re in was yours, right?”

That’s a stupid question. I take back every nice thing I thought about you, Pine Tree. “Yes.”

“How? How did you get it, I mean? How long have you had it? Back when Weirdmaggedon happened, you acted like gaining a physical form was some huge accomplishment, but if you had this body back then, why didn’t you use it before?”

“Geez, kid, one question at a time, please! I was born with this body, alright? I didn’t use it before because it was.. out of my reach.” Bill shifted.

“Out of your reach? How so?” Stop asking me questions I don’t want to answer!

“Pass.” Bill decided to rest against a tree, sitting on the ground for a moment. His legs felt strained, tense. He took his goggles off.

“You’ve said before that you were born in the second dimension,” Pine Tree said after a long pause.

“Yes.” Was that a question?

“How could you have been born in that body in the second dimension? You’re very clearly three dimensional right now.”

Bill furrowed his brows, until it hit him. “The dimension I’m from is called ‘The Second dimension.’”

“What?”

“Every dimension has a name, the dimension I’m from is called ‘The Second dimension.’” How Bill had never pieced together how the distinction between a second dimensional world and a world called ‘The Second dimension’ could be confusing, he honestly had no idea, but now that he thought about it it did make sense. Pine Tree’s confusion was cute though.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope.” Bill smiled.

“That’s stupid.”

“Yeah, it is.” Bill rested his head on one hand, not looking at Pine Tree. He hadn’t expected to enjoy his company as much as he was. Pine Tree sat next to him, looking like he was in deep thought. Bill shifted. Pine Tree’s arm was touching his arm. Why am I holding my breath?

“You were two dimensional when we met,” he said, “You were a triangle. Back in Weirdmageddon you wanted so badly to have a three dimensional form. If you were already three dimensional, what was the point of that?

“Back when we met I was astrally projecting from my body. When beings of my species of demon astrally project, we take a form that’s at a lower dimensional level than the one we already inhabit.”

“That doesn’t answer my second question.” Pine Tree poked him. “You were so excited to have a three dimensional form. What was that all about?”

“I already told you, I wasn’t in a position where I could use my own body, so I had to wait until I had the power to make my own.” Bill rolled his eyes.

“But why couldn’t you—”

“I said, ‘pass.” Bill interrupted him. Pine Tree already asked him that. That doesn’t count as my third pass, though, right? He can’t ask the same question twice so I still have one more, right?

“Fine.” Pine Tree crossed his arms, glaring off.

How does he manage to be so cute even when I’m mad at him? Pine Tree was still touching him. He was warm. Bill’s face reddened slightly. He felt weird. Bill wasn’t sure how to describe it. It wasn’t a feeling, Bill wasn’t even sure if he could recognize what feelings feel like anymore. Emotion was alien to him, but somehow Pine Tree made him feel different. Not any particular way, Bill would have no idea how to describe what exactly changed, but it was different. Like, when Pine Tree was around, he felt a little more grounded… a little more like he existed. I guess that’s just it. He makes me feel like I exist.

“You told Ford your world was flat.”

“Hm? What?” Bill’s train of thought was interrupted.

“When you had him trapped in your pyramid—”

“Fearamid,” Bill corrected. It was an important distinction, okay!?

“—Fearamid, he told me how you talked about your home dimension. He said you described it as ‘flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams, that’s what he said anyway. If you’re really from a three dimensional world, what did you mean by that?”

Bill’s throat went dry. He shifted, looking down.

∆∆∆

Bill choked. His body was shaking in the corner of a cold damp room. Eager to move bones twisted and writhed inside of him, the surrounding flesh too heavy for him to stay upright. He dragged his face over the rough concrete of the floor, a low guttural screech erupting from his lungs as the harsh rock scraped his skin. Screaming, he reeled his body back, and slammed his head back down into the floor. Not enough. He pulled himself up, and dropped his head again. Not enough. Again. Not enough. Again. Not enough. Again. Not enough. Blood dripped down his face, staining his hair orange, mixing with his tears, and flooding his eyes till all he could see was red.

“D S B W R W B L F O V Z E V N V ! ?” He screamed.

He laboriously turned his body over. With numb shaking legs he pushed himself onto his feet, slumping against the wall as they failed to carry his weight.

“23 8 5 18 5 1 18 5 25 15 21 ! ?” Bill fell onto the floor.

The cold concrete box that was his room got smaller by the second.

“V H F X U T V D !” He sobbed.

Vision clearing, he watched as the walls folded in on him.

“K O V Z H V X L N V Y Z X P !”

He stared at the door. The shadows defining its details slowly faded away, and the lines separating the walls disappeared. Bill watched as the room around him lost all texture, all physicality, and gradually reduced to a blank void of white and grey shapes.

“8 5 12 16 13 5!”

Sobbing, he crawled towards the door. It never got any closer. Why did it never get closer? Bill choked on his own saliva. He watched as the door became nothing but a sad grey rectangle. What was once the small window at the top of the door, where the doctors would check up on him, was a faded yellow square.

“E X M F X H N M !”

The blood dripping down his face lost all depth, becoming a meaningless red.

“G S R H D L I O W R H U O Z G .”

Bill turned over himself. He couldn’t tell if he was on the floor or the ceiling. There was no floor. There was no ceiling. There never was.

“20 8 9 19 9 19 1 12 12 1 14 9 12 12 21 19 9 1514.”

Static screamed throughout his whole body as he felt himself turn numb.

“B M P T L G X O X K K X T E .”

Bill dug his claws into himself, though it was pointless.

“M L M V L U G S R H R H I V Z O .” Bill gritted his teeth. “R G M V E V I D Z H .”

16;1;16;5;18. Mabl phkew bl itixk. Gsrh dliow rh mlgsrmt. 9;20;';19;0;14;15;20;0;18;5;1;12;. Ghgx hy bm bl kxte. Mlmv lu gsvn ziv ivzo. 19;3;18;1;20;3;8;5;19;0;15;14;0;16;1;16;5;18;. Xoxkrmabgz... bm’l ghmabgz unm lvktmvaxl hg itixk. Gsrh dliow rh nvzmrmtovhh.

“9 23 1 14 20 20 15 2 21 18 14 9 20 . 9 23 9 12 12 2 21 18 14 9 20 .”

He could still see them. He could always see them. Their eyes. They were trapped. They were trapped, just like him. Confined by the reality that encases them.

L X M Y E T F X M H M A X I T I X K

Free them.

∆∆∆

“Pass.”

“That was your last pass, Bill.”

“I know.”

Bill stared blankly at the ground. His ears were ringing. He could hear them. His body felt like lead. Heavy, like he wasn’t really attached to it anymore. The hands that rested at his sides didn’t feel like his own. For a moment, he was looking at the back of his own head.

“Last question. Then we can go back to finding your wizard.” Pine Tree’s voice brought him back to himself.

Bill didn’t want to answer any more questions. “Shoot.”

“What’s your favorite flower?”

…

What?

Bill blinked, having been rapidly pulled back into his own body. He turned to face Pine Tree, who was currently trying very hard to compete with the vibrant shades of the pink flowers around them. He stared directly at Bill, though he looked a bit like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“What?” Bill’s mind was having trouble wrapping itself around everything that just came out of Pine Tree’s mouth.

“What’s your favorite flower?” Pine Tree’s voice creaked the second time he asked the question. He was avoiding eye contact now. Bill could feel his own face begin to turn warm. Why would Pine Tree ask him that? Bill shifted.

“Blue hydrangeas,” Bill finally answered.

Pine Tree met his gaze. For a moment, the clouds parted and bright white moonlight shone through the thick leaves of the tree somehow to illuminate Pine Tree’s face. His eyes sparkled. The pink in his cheeks turned purple from the blue haze of the night. His skin looked soft. Bill stared into his eyes. They were the distinct light color of a cloudy morning sky, just before it rained. Bill bit the inside of his lip, clearing his throat.

“What’s yours?” He asked. He felt that was a fairly normal question to ask… kind of. Usually when someone asks you something about yourself you respond by asking about them. Bill wasn’t sure if that applied here, but he didn’t want to be rude, and they were kind of in uncharted territory at the moment.

“Uhm, I– I don’t know…” Pine Tree faltered, tripping over his words. “I don’t really know much about flowers, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s okay.” ‘That’s okay?’ Bill bit his own tongue. What kind of response was that? What is even happening here!?

Bill decided to just grab his cane and get up. “Get up. You said that was your last question. We have a wizard to find.”

Pine Tree nodded and got up. Bill pulled his goggles back over his eyes, mostly to hide how obviously he was avoiding looking at Pine Tree. Looking around, Bill spotted the gross slimy trail of Xgqrthx, and started following it. Pine Tree followed him. Bill hoped he wasn’t being rude by ending the conversation that way, but in his defense… that was really really really awkward.

Bill found the invisible wizard with Pine Tree following close behind. Bill had to get Pine Tree’s help to pull out the wizard’s teeth, something that Pine Tree very indignantly protested to, but Bill managed to convince him. Pine Tree might hate him forever, but at least that meant he’d probably never ask Bill any personal questions ever again. Plus, the look on his face was hilarious.

When Bill got home, he had to be incredibly discreet. He had hidden a bag outside his bedroom window with the clothes he had worn to bed before leaving. He snuck into the shower and scrubbed himself clean. He stuffed the clothes he had worn to pull out Xgqrthx’s teeth—Man, that guy has gotten gross—into an old duffel bag and abandoned it in the forest. Bill checked on Tad, who was either dead or asleep. Most likely asleep. It was almost morning, so there wasn’t much use of trying to sleep, but Bill still had to convince Tad that he’s been asleep for the past eight hours. Bill squeezed himself back in his straitjacket and curled into himself in bed.

∆∆∆

“William, can we talk?” Tad asked from the kitchen, where he was fixing his tie.

Bill was in the living room, swinging his legs back and forth. “Sure.”

“You know you can trust me with anything, right?”

“Course.” Bill lied.

Tad sighed. “I don’t feel good leaving you alone all day with no one to watch or take care of you. Especially when you’re just stuck sitting in one place all day.”

“I’m fine, Tad.” Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I know, I know, I just thought… you might like some company.”

Bill furrowed his brows. He slowly turned his head to face Tad. “What did you do?” Bill asked. Tad looked guilty. Bill asked again, slower, “Tad, what did you do?”

…

“I got you a babysitter.”

…

“You what?”

Chapter Text

Hiiiiii. So, uhh, not a chapter, sorry to disappoint... but I just thought I'd say this. I've already mentioned this in the comment section once, but I thought I'd put it here for people who don't read comments. I haven't decided to discontinue this story, I do plan on finishing it, but looking over the most recent chapters, I just genuinely feel like I can do better. I really didn't think anyone would read this at first, so when I started, I didn't really have much of a direction for it. (Well, more like I had multiple different directions I wanted to take it in but wasn't really sure which one or how to execute them.)

Anyway, I've decided to rewrite this fic from the beginning. The earlier chapters won't be changed much, but still could use some updating. As for this, this chapter I'm writing in wright (get it?) now will be deleted once all of the chapters have been rewritten and updated here on AO3.

Anyway, I hope everyone is having a lovely day, or night, and I'll try to get all the chapters updated as soon as possible. Have a good one, and remember to stay kind. <3 :]