Chapter Text
The Pines family was not famed for its normalcy, and even within that category of oddity, Dipper Pines was a bit of a black sheep. Bullied, traumatised, chased by supernatural monsters - his life was one of action, and not one that many would envy. Something was always on Dipper’s heels. Generally, said heels were pelting in the opposite direction, at borderline unnatural speeds. It was the one positive thing going for him, his incredible running speed. Or so the teen believed. After 15 years of introspection and extremely poor decision making, this one hint of athleticism seemed like a singular positive point among a sea of idiotic decisions.
The whole running thing was helped along by legs that seemed to stretch for a mile beneath him. His lanky body and unfortunate hair were matched up with an even more unfortunate voice. Naturally, it no longer wavered wildly (he wasn’t twelve any more) but had settled into a frustratingly high pitch. It was this that Mabel was lovingly mocking as Stanford pulled him into the basement room.
“You sound so cute though-!”
Dipper carefully ignored his sister. “Grunkle Ford, is this really necessary? I mean - I’ve seen you do all this stuff countless times before, right?” His tone was imploring, almost excessively so. “We’ve not got that much of summer left. I want to go out, use my time - surely you can sympathise.”
Giving him an unfathomable stare, his Grunkle simply pushed the boy closer to the middle of the room. “Of course I can, Dipper, but you’re leaving soon, and you’ve hardly been present these past months. This is an invaluable experience.”
An odd contrast to previous years, this. Around the age of 14, it had no longer been Dipper following his genius great uncle around, so much as said great uncle dragging him around to see a variety of bizarre supernatural anomalies. It wasn’t that Dipper disliked the supernatural now - oh, quite the opposite - it was just that he could see through the hero-worship that used to blind him. It had almost resulted in Mabel and Dipper being split up and that… that had revealed Ford’s humanity. Dipper could still see the moments of betrayal flicker behind his sister’s eyes from time to time; the shame that ran through him never quite dulled..
Maybe the older man had caught on to his failings as Dipper had, for the attention he paid them became far more even and much more ‘Stan-esque’ in nature. After inviting the pair to play potentially life-threatening board games almost every evening and only ever getting one positive response, the increasingly disillusioned Grunkle had given up his attempts, allowing the teen to do as he wanted.
Defending this decision arguably became difficult as the boy in question disappeared frequently and returned smelling of forest and ozone, with no adequate explanations. The shimmering haze of summer made it all very easy to ignore, up until the sudden change in situation. Now every action was tinged with desperation, and with vengeance, and a certain understanding of the value of family.
All of which lead to Ford bringing Dipper to see his ritual.
Wincing, Dipper had to concede. The teen had probably seen more of the woods than the shack over the summer, and it wasn’t due to monster hunting as he would have his family believe, or to… Bradley. His net of lies was growing ever more tangled, threads thinning with the tales he’d likely forgotten or mixed up. Damn his lack of preparation. There must have been a way around this.
“We just need to set this up perfectly, so we can catch the accomplice of Cipher and get some answers.”
Dipper winced.
Oh, he was so screwed.
“It’s a fascinating concept, Dipper! The union of magic and machine. Naturally, I don’t expect you to have any knowledge of magic, but the technology side shouldn’t cause you any problems. Look, you stand here -” he shuffled his grand nephew around, pointing at a large summoning circle on the grubby concrete. It covered almost half of the area of the floor. “- Mabel, if you would go stand opposite? Thank you.”
As Dipper looked down, he wondered what the circle had been drawn with, and if he could rub some of it out. The smallest gap could shut the entire thing down, and be almost entirely impossible to rectify without re-drawing the circle completely. When Grunkle Ford seemed distracted, he shot one foot out and dragged it across one of the white lines, swearing under his breath when it didn’t budge. Dammit! Not chalk, then. Why, of all times, was it now that Ford decided to turn to paint?
Life hated him, evidently. Another escape route was required. None were apparent.
“Now, allow me to explain.” A quiet hum jumped up from one corner of the room, Grunkle buried in a mass of wiring. “The computers over there are connected to the circle, and are going to act as the power source. It’s a bit of a gamble. Working on the summoning ritual for Cipher, I’ve edited the spell and the circle to call on anyone who is channeling his power - which we know someone is - and it ought to incapacitate them before teleporting them here.” Ford paused for breath. “Well, that’s the theory, anyway. It’s not very efficient, I’m afraid. It was the best I could come up with given - given the circumstances.”
Not for the first time in his life, Dipper was hyperventilating. The excitement radiating from the older man at the prospect of testing out another invention was almost disturbing. Was he caught up in the anticipation of doing good, or showing off his ‘intellect’? Momentarily, the teen wished he could be 12 again, trusting his Grunkle completely and seeing only the best in his (quite frankly) abhorrent ego. Being around Stanley had mellowed Ford out somewhat, yet in situations like these...
If the erratic breathing continued, the spell wouldn’t need to incapacitate anyone. The ensuing anxiety attack would manage that all by itself. Dipper took a stab in the dark. “I really don’t think this is necessary. It’s just some accomplice, right? Why not go for Cipher himself?”
Turning, his Grunkle looked over, eyes hidden by the light that hit the panes in front of them. It was awful when Ford’s glasses flashed like that. “People have died, Dipper. Bill is the next target, but for now, we take out any enemy that we possibly can.” Both twins flinched at this, not missing the fury in his tone; Stan wasn’t present for that exact reason. “We really don’t have any time to waste. Let’s get this going.”
Walking to the side of the paint, Ford raised his arms and began to speak, voice deepened and rolling easily over the Latin. “ Triangulum conscium, entangulum. Ero vobis in ruinam iniquitas. Induxero vos ad me.”
Nothing happened.
Heaving a stifled sigh of relief, Dipper shrugged. “Seems like it’s not working. Oh well, there’s always -”
The circle pulsed.
Neither Ford nor Mabel reacted, but Dipper felt the magic beat into his body and tried not to stumble, wincing at the sensation of his own heated power turned against him. It wasn’t so bad, he reasoned. The way that the paint flashed was almost pretty. He had a headache, but well, maybe his lessons would be enough and he could fight against this. There was another pulse, heavier this time, and it felt like a wall pushing into his bones. His headache worsened considerably. Another pulse. God, how much did Ford want him to suffer? Although, Dipper supposed, Ford didn’t know that the target was, in fact, his great nephew.
Well, not yet, anyway.
A slight wheezing was emanating from the summoning circle now, computers beeping incessantly in a cacophony of frantic sound. Another pulse. Dipper felt something warm on his face, and brought his hand up to his nose, trembling. It came away bloodied. Even as his breathing sped up, he could hear Mabel’s faint cry of worry. Another pulse.
“Dipper? Are you okay?” His twin was barely audible over the rush of magic.
The pressure in the teen’s head was too great, and his vision began to cloud. Each time there was a pulse, the time in between decreased, and now it was a constant and agonising drumming against his skull. This was torture, never mind harmless ‘incapacitation’. Stanford had designed this to make the enemy suffer. If Dipper had been in the right state of mind, he would’ve been shocked at the absolute callousness of the spell, the unfamiliar brutality that one never expects from family. However, he was ultimately preoccupied with the uncomfortable rush of his blood dripping down to the floor, and the absolute terror gripping his heart. No, no, no, no nononononono -
“Grunkle Ford!” The shriek of fear was abnormally high, even from Mabel. “What’s wrong with him!?”
“Dipper?” Another pulse. Ford sounded worried. Realisation seeped into the air, a tinge of disbelief. The next time he spoke, it was a growl. “ DIPPER. ”
Needless to say, Dipper was not surprised when nobody caught him as he fell into black.