Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Almost every night, I have the same dream. We’re sitting together in a room you made just for us. You play the piano and I sing along poorly. At the end of the song, you laugh and tell me something. 

I don’t remember what you said. 

My mind refuses to hear your voice ever again.

The dream is so pleasant, so sweet. I feel so warm sitting side by side on the piano with you. 

And yet each time I have this dream…

I wake up in a cold sweat like I just emerged from the world’s worst nightmare. 

But today, something changed. 

For the first time in ten years…

You spoke to me.

Ford woke up with a sharp jolt, wincing in pain as his head smacked the ceiling of the small ship’s cabin. He sighed, wiping the sweat off his face. The soft whooshing of the waves soothed him as he stared at his hands and tried to understand the meaning of his dream. 

Before, he had just believed the dream to be a replay of his memories. Everything in the dream blurred along the edges like an old photograph, and not a single sound reached his ears the whole time. Not even his own voice as he sang at the piano. He couldn’t even remember what Bill had said to him as the song concluded. But tonight, just at the very end, everything came into sharp focus and suddenly a sound rang in his ears as Bill turned to look at him, laughing softly. 

“Oh, I miss you, Sixer.”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose and tried his best to shake the dream from his mind. It was unusual, but it was nothing more than an anomaly. He slipped his glasses on and quietly snuck out of his bunk, doing his best to not wake his brother, who was still snoring loudly. 

The cool sea air seemed to blow away any lingering fear into the ocean. He took a few breaths, savoring the salty air. It almost felt like a routine at this point. The dream had become so frequent, and standing on the deck of their little boat seemed to be the only way to calm his mind. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. He had faced so much at the hands of…Him. And yet his brain seemed to block out every trauma, every fight, every moment of terror. It replayed one of his few pleasant memories, with Bill like a heartbroken widow replaying a worn-out VHS on loop.

But why was tonight different?

Ford’s stomach lurched, and he pushed the thought back down. He didn’t want to think of the reasons why, after nearly 10 years, his brain would suddenly decide to switch it up. He didn’t want to think about the most obvious answer. The one that loomed heaviest in his mind. 

Bill was-

“Up early, as usual, Sixer?” 

A rough clap on the shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts, and he whipped around to see his brother standing by his side. Ford’s face must have looked frightened, because his brother’s cocky smile twisted into a worried frown.

“Jeez, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

It was almost an apology. Ford shook his head and straightened up, adjusting his glasses.

“You didn’t frighten me. I was just lost in thought.

Stan snorted. “And when are you not? Come on, it’s early enough that we can make it to Oregon before sundown.”

Ford chuckled and nodded, watching his brother take his usual post behind the ship’s wheel. The dream was very quickly forgotten as they went about their day. 

As the sun was dipping below the horizon, the brothers successfully docked on the coast of Oregon. Their exhaustion from being on the boat all day quickly forgotten as they stepped foot on land. It didn’t matter that they visited every summer, each June brought the same level of excitement that could be expected from two kids at an amusement park. Sunburns and creaking bones were forgotten and quickly exchanged for the beautiful anticipation that summer brought. 

Waiting for them at the dock were their niece and nephew, both equally bountiful in excitement as their grunkles.
“Ah, there are my two troublemakers! You’ve grown so much since I saw ya last!” Stan said as he scooped Dipper and Mabel into a fierce bear hug. 

“Grunkle Stan, I highly doubt that we’ve grown that much since you saw us last year, ” snorted Dipper, attempting to wrangle himself out of the crushing embrace.

“Nonsense. You’ve grown plenty,” Ford said as he stepped in to exchange hugs of his own.

As they walked down the dock, Mabel wasted no time in talking both Stan and Ford’s ears off, but Dipper stayed quietly reserved, eyeing Ford occasionally. Ford could tell that there was something on the boy’s mind, and the fact that he was unwilling to say it outright worried him. He felt a lurch in his stomach as the memory of his dream returned front and center. Dread weighed heavily in his gut as they all piled into Dipper’s car, but even then he still tried to force the worry away. Tonight he would be cooped up in a hotel at the edge of Oregon, but tomorrow they would be in Gravity Falls with everyone else. Surely he would feel better than, surrounded by friends and family.

That night, after picking up dinner, they stopped at a dingy motel to rest up for the trip ahead. They got a room far too small for them, with only two twin beds to share. Of course, Mabel got the first bed and Dipper was offered the second. He promptly offered his bed to Ford, who then offered it to Stan…who then teased them for being stupid enough to give up the bed and very quickly claimed it as his own. That night they talked about what they had been up to in the nine months since they had seen each other. They had tried sending letters at one point but that proved difficult with the sheer frequency that each of them moved around. Eventually they decided it was easier to just recap when they saw each other. Dipper had secured his first degree that year and was planning on going for a second one come September. Mabel had finally moved to New York with Pacifica and their newly founded fashion company was running smoothly so far. Stan enjoyed retelling and exaggerating all of Ford and his adventures over the year. Ford was content to just listen. He remembered a time when his family had been so broken, when he had been completely alone. He wished he could go back and tell himself that this was his future, surrounded by friends and family and loved so fiercely that most days he forgot all the guilt and shame that used to plague him like an incurable disease. 

As the night went on everyone tuckered themselves out and eventually their once rowdy crew said goodnight one by one until it was just Dipper and Ford lay side by side on the floor. Neither of them could sleep and both were acutely aware that the other was still awake. It wasn’t until the loud symphony of Mabel and Stan’s combined snores filled the room that Dipper turned to face Ford. His face was tense and his eyes were filled with anxiety. Ford hadn’t seen him this wound up since he was a teenager. 

“Grunkle Ford?” Dipper spoke in a hushed whisper, fidgeting with his blanket. 

“Yes, Dipper?” 

“Have you…had any weird dreams lately?”

Ford sucked in a breath, the question he had been dreading an almost painful blow. 

“Weird how?”

Dipper thought for a moment before simply saying, “You know…”

Ford struggled to find words. To admit it in this conversation was to admit they had a problem and while he was usually the one who charged head-first into problems, the one who came up with the solutions and the answers, all he wanted to do was run and hide from this problem. The thought of Bill being back made him feel like a scared young man again, too afraid to sleep or even blink. He shuddered at the memory. 

“Yes,” was all he could bring himself to say. 

Dipper lay silent for a long time and Ford could tell his thought process was similar to his own. 

“Me too. I usually have bad dreams about him, but the other day he…he…”

“Spoke to you?”

Dipper glanced over at Ford and even in the dark Ford could see the fear on his face. 

“Yes. He said ‘can you hear me?’ and it was so unusual to me because in my dreams I can barely understand him or he’s just spewing villain catchphrases but… why would he say that?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if he’s…you know…”

Ford sighed, “I don’t know. Get some sleep, Dipper.” 

Dipper made a sound like he wanted to protest, but Ford had already rolled over and tried his best to fall asleep himself. 

He woke up that night in the same dream he always did yet this time he could tell immediately something was different. 

He could hear music

He turned his head to see a young man beside him, plucking out the tune to I Only Have Eyes for You. He recognized this form, this man sitting beside him with tanned skin, dark hair, and haunting yellow eyes. It was a human form that Bill had used to interact with him during the days when Ford had believed them friends. He recognized the song, too. It was the song from his memory. From the dream, he never got to hear. He was in his dream again, but it didn’t feel like a dream anymore. It felt like reality, sharp, haunting, more vivid than memory.

The music stopped, and he turned his head to find Bill staring at him. 

“You’re supposed to be singing, Sixer.”

Ford’s stomach sank, “Wh..what?”

“You’re singing this time, remember? Did you forget the words?” Bill grinned, snickering to himself. 

Ford couldn’t string two thoughts together. A wave of panic crashed over him. He felt like a scared child. 

“Here, let me remind you,” Bill finally piped up, placing his hands in position to play once more.

“ My love must be a kind of blind love.

I can’t see anyone but you.”

Bill glanced over at Ford at this line, grinning widely, a twinkle in his eye. Ford’s heart couldn’t help but ache; it truly did feel like replaying a long-lost memory. 

“ Are the stars out tonight? 

I can’t tell if it’s cloudy or bright.

I only have eye for you!”

Bill chuckled at his little pun, and Ford couldn’t help but get submersed in the dream. He hated how everything felt better when Bill smiled at him. He hated this false sense of security 

“Do you not feel like singing?”

Bill tilted his head, grin widening into something more mischievous. 

“Is it because you’re still holding a grudge over our messy ‘break-up’?”

Ford quickly scooted back, falling off the bench in his haste, the sound of Bill’s laughter the backing track to his flailing escape. He felt so foolish with his legs propped up on the bench and the rest of his body splayed out on the ground. Bill’s expression tightened as he watched Ford scramble away from him.
“Damn!!” Bill’s hands balled up into fists and he slammed his hands into the piano. “Is this not good enough for you? Would you prefer the burning field of your biggest regrets, Stanford?”

Ford kicked his legs to back away further, watching the flash of regret come over Bill’s face, though the smile never left his lips.
“What? What? Are you still scared of me? It’s been ten years! The past is past! Right, Fordsy?”

“You’re dead!” Ford replied, shakily pulling himself to his feet. “This isn’t real!”

Bill just stared at Ford for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
“I wish. I wish I had died.”

Ford sat bolt upright from his place on the floor. He desperately worked to catch his breath as he grounded himself back into his surroundings. 

“Grunkle Ford? Are you okay?”

Ford whipped his head around to see Dipper, Stan, and Mabel staring at him with worried expressions. 

“You were talking in your sleep,” Dipper said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“And you’re really sweaty…” Added Mabel.

Ford stumbled for words, unable to explain what he had just seen but also too shocked to come up with a clever enough lie to calm their fears. Stan sighed and pulled himself out of bed, holding his hand out to Ford as he made his way to the door. 

“Come on, Sixer, let’s get some fresh air.”

Ford took Stan’s hand and both of them stepped outside. They stood in silence for a while as Stan lit up a cigar and Ford did his best to collect himself.

“I’ve been having dreams about him, too. Little twerp really hates me.”

Ford stared at his brother, brows furrowed together. He hated that Stan could just say the things that everyone else cautiously tiptoed around. 

“I always dream about him. But he felt so real tonight. Like I could reach out and touch him.”

“So he’s back?” Stan took a long drag from his cigar. “I knew it. I knew if I could regain my memories, then he wasn’t truly erased. I should have never rested. I should have never let my guard down. I should have never gotten-”

“Don’t say that Stanley. It’s a good thing that you have got your memories back. And truly, if the memory gun had failed to erase Bill or if Bill had reformed along with your memories, don’t you think he’d have come back to finish the job right away?”

Stan sighed, looking over at his brother with a worried expression.
“I think he’s back, Ford. I know you think so, too.”

“I don’t want him to be.”

“I know.”

Ford stared at the ground, watching ants slowly march across the ground.

“Every time I come face to face with him, I do something wrong. People get hurt, and I put my family in danger. I can’t think about Bill without thinking about all the guilt and regrets I still carry with me.”

“Don’t you think we’ve all felt the same way at some point? Bill has brought out the worst of us. He preyed on every selfish desire we’ve ever had.”

“I don’t want to see him again.”

Stan sighed, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“I know.”

Stan offered him his cigar, which Ford politely refused. They stayed there in silence for a good while longer, neither of them sure of what else there was to say. 

“Let's get some sleep.” Stan finally said as he snuffed out his cigar.

The twins were already fast asleep by the time the two brothers returned to their beds and dozed off into their own fitful sleeps.

A tense silence filled the next morning. Nobody seemed particularly eager to revisit the nightmares they had all had the previous night, so the rest of the trip to Gravity Falls was quiet. Even Mabel seemed too tired to fill the car with her usually babbling. She was rather fidgety, and when she wasn’t tapping away at her phone, she was fitfully napping in the front seat. Stan spent the whole drive chain smoking out the window (despite Dipper's initial protests). As for Ford, he did the only thing he could think of to soothe his mind; he journaled. 

Last night, Bill visited me in my dream. It’s been ten years but his presence was unmistakable. I’d like to believe that it was my brain playing tricks on me, but deep down I know the truth. 

Bill is back.

In my dreams, he seemed so friendly at first. That makes me more uneasy than if he had been cruel and violent. His kindness means he wants something from me and he’s trying to soften me up.

He told me he wished that he had died. What did he mean by this? What sort of fate would make a demon like Bill Cipher wish for death? 

Should I be more scared of Bill or whatever is subjecting him to a fate that would make him yearn for death?

What in the world am I saying? If Bill is being tormented, it’s probably a just cosmic punishment for eons of unforgivable crimes.

I don’t know what to do next. If Bill really is back, we could be returning to a Gravity Falls wrecked by chaos and destruction. I don’t know what awaits us when we return home, but all I know is if Bill hasn’t made his first move, I’ll make mine.

Ford put away his journal to find himself on the familiar outskirts of Gravity Falls. He breathed a sigh of relief to see that the town he loved so much was unaffected by Bill’s weirdness. They still had time. 

The sun was reaching its peak in the sky by the time the four pulled up in front of the mystery shack. The entire group groaned with relief as they piled out of the car. 

“God, I’m getting too old for these long road trips,” Stan grumbled.

“Ah! You all finally made it!” Melody said as she came down from the front porch. 

Soos lagged behind his wife, clearly much more exhausted than she was. But that didn’t stop him from gathering the entire group in a bone-crushing hug. 

“I missed you dudes so much.” 

“Awe, we missed you too, Soos!” Mabel said, happily returning the hug.

“I hate to ask, but have you dudes…been having weird dreams at all lately?”

The Pines let out a collective sigh and nodded, almost in unison.

“Maybe we should talk about this inside?”

The entire group collected their bags and made their way inside. Once everyone had put their things away, they regrouped back in the living room where Soos was waiting. Nobody wanted to speak, not even Ford. He stood there in front of everyone and for a moment he was unsure of what to say. 

“Okay, I suppose now is the time to lay everything bare. No need to dance around the subject,” Ford said, standing before his family. “We’ve all had dreams about Bill lately, correct?”

Everyone nodded.

“I’ve been having dreams with him in it for a week now, dudes,” Soos said. 

“He’s been in my dreams for the last few days,” added Dipper.

“He infiltrated my dreams about hot anime boys.” Mabel said with a pout.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all had dreams about him, but what does that mean for us? What’s our next step?” asked Stan.

All eyes turned back to Ford, who shifted nervously on his feet as he formulated his words. 

“First things first we must fortify and prepare. We may not know what  don’t know what Bill is planning but we know how to defend against him. We’ll use the remaining supply of unicorn hair and stock up on enough tinfoil to keep us all protected. Other than that we’ll just need to stay vigilant. At this point all we can do is wait.”

Everyone nodded along, the anxiety hung heavy in the air. 

“Dipper, you and I will stay here to fortify the house. Stan, Mabel, you to will make sure all of our supplies are suitable for a potential end of the world situation. Make sure none of the townsfolk know of whats going on. We want to avoid mass hysteria. Soos, contact Wendy, Fiddleford and Gideon, tell them to get over here as soon as possible. Robbie and Pacifica are already on their way but it wouldn’t hurt to inform them of the situation.”

Ford paced back and forth as he handed out orders.

“Is everyone clear on their directives?”

Another collective nod. Ford clapped his hands together. 

“Excellent, let's get to work.”

The group split up and Ford sighed, denial only worked for so long but throwing himself into action? That actually soothed his fears. Even if only a little bit. 

Him and Dipper set to work setting a meticulous border of unicorn hair. It took several hours but when the border had been set the two stepped back to admire their work.

“Well, the others should be gathered by now. Should we join them?”

Dipper kept his gaze on the ground, deep in thought. 

“Actually, something has been bothering me,” Dipper said.

“Yes?”

“The Bill statue in the woods. When is the last time you’ve visited it?”

Ford was unsure. He had occasionally passed by the statue when he was traveling through the woods but he very rarely sought out the thing deliberately. 

“I visit it every summer. I don’t know why, I guess it’s my way of feeling big and strong. It's been there every summer. I need to see it with my own eyes. I need to know for sure whether it's true or not. I need to see if the statue is still there. Will you go with me?”

Ford wrapped his arm around Dipper.

“Of course, son.”

The two set out through the woods with Dipper leading the way. No words were spoken between them as they hiked, it seemed like neither of them were even able to breathe. The tension was so high, the anticipation almost too much to bear. Ford's gaze wandered to the surrounding woods as he walked, unable to help himself from admiring the nature around them. It was because of this that he didn’t see when Dipper stopped dead in his tracks and ended up crashing into him.

“Dipper? What’s-” his sentence died in his throat when he caught sight of what had given Dipper pause, “...wrong…”

The statue was indeed gone. Nothing left to indicate it had ever been there other than a set of small footprints indented in the grass. The missing statue was cause enough for concern on its own but what really gave the two men pause was not the absence of the statue but the presence of something else entirely. 

Lying on the forest ground was a man. With salt and pepper hair and tan skin. He lay unconscious on the ground without any clothing. But perhaps the most alarming of all was the fact that Ford knew this man. In fact, he had seen this man in his dreams almost every night for the last 10 years.

This man was Bill Cipher.

Chapter Text

Ten years - ten excruciating, long years of this. Bill had endured group therapy, arts and crafts, story hour, padded cells, and shitty cafeteria food. He didn't even need to eat, but it was the principle of it, goddammit.

If he had to endure one more wannabe villain's pathetic ‘breakthrough moment’, he’d just about lose his goddamn mind. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings or his parents or his past. He didn’t want to think about his Hench-maniacs who hadn’t bothered to visit, or his ex-partner- who was probably doing just fabulous without him. He wanted to disassemble this space prison and be rid of it forever. He didn’t even care where he went after this, anywhere but here would be better. 

At night, he laid in his cell; night after night in the endless cycle of monotony that never changed. Or, it hadn’t changed until  Bill’s world began to disintegrate. The pristine white walls slowly melted away. For a moment he wondered if the medication he was given was giving him hallucinations again. But then he recognized this place, as his padded cell was replaced with the inky void of space, he realized he had been here once before when he had died. Here there was nothing but stars. Most might find it beautiful but Bill was only reminded of the past when he was here. And that's when he appeared before him- Axolotl, the being responsible for this hell in the first place. 

Hello Bill, The creature's voice rang throughout space, though his mouth never moved. How are you adjusting, old friend?

Bill scoffed, old friend indeed . “Oh, I’m just swell pal! In fact, I think I’m just about ready to discharge. What do you say?”

Ax’s expression did not change, but his displeasure was apparent. Bill, I thought this place would be good for you. You needed change. But it's clear to me that this isn't enough. You are truly a unique case. I’ve decided to release you from the care you have received here.

Now he had Bill's attention. Was this dumb fish really so blinded by his own quest to redeem him that he would just set him free?

“Oh, ho! Now we’re talking! I’m ready to be rid of this crap shack.”

It will not be so simple. I still believe that change is necessary for you to continue a fulfilling life. And if you are not capable of change, if you are so determined to keep yourself wrapped in the blankets of denial, then perhaps there is no hope for you. There is nobody you won't hurt in your quest to soothe your own emotional wounds. For that very reason, this is your last chance. If you mess this up, I will not be there to save you from yourself anymore. 

The world seemed to rumble around him but Bill just rolled his eye. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, pal. I’m ready to get out of here!”

Ax’s sigh rang throughout the universe, Very well. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. 

Ford and Dipper stared down at the unconscious form of the man for a long while, unsure of what to do.

“Who…who is that, Grunkle Ford?”

Ford sighed, there was a long moment of hesitation before he stripped off his shirt and leaned down to tie it around the man's waist. “Help me carry him home.”

The journey home with the comatose man seemed to stretch on ten times longer than the journey up to the statue had been. And yet, despite that, the whole time neither of them said a single thing. They simply couldn’t  think of anything that would be of use. When they reached the house, they brought him inside and laid him on Ford's bed. Ford couldn’t help the sick feeling that rose up in him as he looked down upon Bill in his bed. Bill and Sleep were so intertwined, his bedroom had felt so unsafe for so long. And now Bill was back to violating his bed once more. Bill had once haunted his nightmares and here he was, bringing those nightmares to life.

“Go gather the others in the living room; make sure Wendy, Gideon, and Fiddleford are here too. I’ll be out as soon as possible.” 

“But Grunkle Ford-”

“Go, Dipper.”

Dipper sighed, hesitating for a moment before finally turning and leaving Ford alone with Bill. It was a long moment before Ford was able to make himself move, and even then his first instinct was to lean down and brush the hair out of Bill's face. He looked so human like this. So fragile and vulnerable, like Ford could kill him right now and it would all be over. A single moment to end a decade of haunted dreams and memories. 

He inspected every inch of his face- from the wrinkles on his face, as if he had managed to age, to the dark birthmark over his eye. He couldn’t help the overwhelming fascination that overcame him for a long minute. How could he not be fascinated?

When he finally forced himself to step away, the first thing he did was go through his belongings and dress Bill in some of his sleepwear. It was less about giving Bill dignity, and more about limiting the risk of a naked madman running through the shack. Maybe, just a little bit, it was also about not having to be in the same room as a naked Bill . Dressing him was uncomfortable and involved so much touching. His hands constantly brushed Bill's skin and Ford couldn’t help but wonder when the last time they had touched this much was.

 Next, he retrieved a length of rope and a few zip ties from his bag. He felt vindicated in his decision to always keep himself prepared, even if Stan insisted on teasing him for it. It had come in handy now and there was nothing his twin could do to deny that.

He set to work, tying Bill's hands together and then to one of the bedposts. He felt a little odd tying up a human person in his bedroom. Part of him felt guilty, this underlying fear that maybe he was wrong bubbling up through him. It was a pervasive and nagging worry that this wasn’t even Bill, that he had just kidnapped some stranger in the woods. But paranoia spurred him forward.

He couldn’t take any chances, he couldn't second guess himself, and he couldn’t hesitate. He wouldn’t allow himself to indulge in the same things that had failed him before, not again. Not like all the times before. He was older and wiser now; he knew what he could and couldn’t afford to do.

Once the rope was secure, he added the zip ties at Bill’s wrists and ankles for extra security. Then, after a moment of consideration, he decided that just having his hands bound and zip-tied but his ankles being only zip-tied wasn't enough. Ford made sure his ankles were bound tight with the rope as well. At the end of this endeavor, he felt just a bit foolish, but most of all, he felt safe. 

He rejoined his family, who had all gathered in the living room with the additions of Wendy, Gideon, and Fiddleford. Tension had hounded Ford ever since he had stepped foot on Oregon soil, burrowing into his muscles and bones, but now something much more palpable filled the air. 

Fear. It was lingering in the anxious glances shared around the room. Hung heavy on the hushed whispers exchanged between comrades. It announced itself in how each and everyone of them carried themselves, wound tight. Ford cleared his throat, and the room fell silent. Once again, all eyes were on him. 

“I have gathered you here because we all share the same fear. The fear that Bill has returned to our world. Today, me and Dipper have found proof that… Well, we were correct to worry. It seems that Bill is indeed back.”

Everyone took the briefest of moments to look at each other. Even Wendy and Soos looked worried. Guilt ate at Ford as he watched Mabel and Stan’s matching faces full of fear. He felt even worse watching his brother swallow that feeling to comfort his niece. It only took a few seconds for the room to erupt with questions. A confusion and panic filled the room, so strong  that Ford immediately found himself overwhelmed. 

“Wait, he’s back? Are you sure?”

“How do you know?”

“What’s his plan?”

“Does this have anything to do with the dreams we’ve all been having?”

Finally, Dipper's voice rose above the babble of panic, “Well, what's the plan, Grunkle Ford?”

Everyone chimed in agreement, and it was finally quiet enough for Ford to formulate a response once everyone settled, expectant. 

“That is where we face our first problem. Bill has taken on a… different form.”

“Different how?” asked Wendy cautiously. 

“Yeah, are we talking like hexagon or…” Soos mumbled, almost embarrassed to ask the question.

“He seems to be completely human- at least, in appearance..”

Another babble of confusion while Ford tried to maintain control of the room. 

“Are you sure it's really him?” Fiddleford asked, already scribbling in his notebook. 

“I’m sure. This is a form Bill would use frequently when we interacted in the mindscape. I think it was his way of getting me to be comfortable around him. I’ve seen this man so many times I could pick him out in a crowd. I have very little doubt that it’s him.”

The group nodded amongst themselves, their brows furrowed and minds racing to find the right words. There weren’t any, not for a nightmare like this. The desperate silence hung in the air, thick and cloying and begging for someone to break it. Ford avoided Dipper's gaze, though it bore right through him. It was a look of absolute betrayal and Ford immediately regretted not telling Dipper the truth earlier. He should have left Bill in the woods and yet he had made his nephew drag him back here, never once giving him answers. Ford had known the truth the whole time and he had just left Dipper in the dark. Even now he could feel old habits creeping back on him. Mabel leaned over to comfort her brother but he just brushed him off.

“So, let’s just kill him.”

Everyone’s heads whipped around to Stan, mouths agape. Though it was clear from the expressions on some that they had been thinking the same thing, others balked at Stan, eyes wide at his audacity. 

“Grunkle Stan, you can’t be serious!” Mabel said, hands on her hips as she glared at him with righteous fury. 

“Well, why not? It’s not like it would be the first time!”

“Yeah, but if he’s human, then what you're suggesting isn’t some battle against a god- it's murder. Nothing more.”

“But if it’s murder for a good cause,” chimed Dipper, “if it’s murder to save the world… then I think it’s worth it. It’s preventative justice.”

His sister frowned at him, leaping to her feet, “I’m just not comfortable with it, Dipper! I don’t think I could ever look at you the same again.”

Mabel paced back and forth through the room and all the people in it, already whipped up into a frenzy over the idea. Her face was rapidly switching between fear and betrayal, shooting daggers at her brother. A lot of mumbling of ‘how could we-’ and ‘what would that make us-’. A collective sigh echoed through the room. There were only two people who could calm her down when she got like this; one was currently staring her down, arms crossed firmly over his chest in blatant disagreement. The only other was her girlfriend, Pacifica, who wasn’t even in the state yet.

“Mabel, honey, what's worse? Killing one man who could bring about the end of humanity, or letting him live and he brings about the apocalypse?” asked Stan.

“Again,” Dipper added solemnly.

“I hate to say it but I agree with Mabel. We would be criminals,” said Gideon, wide eyes turning to Mabel for approval. As if half of them hadn’t already broken more than a dozen laws before, the silver-haired scammer included.

Mabel just huffed, upset to have no one except the least credible of them on her side. At least, until Wendy spoke up.

“Listen, the way I see it, that thing tortured us and our families and put us through some of the worst experiences of our lives. But if we kill him when he’s at his weakest, doesn’t that make us just as bad as him?”

“ No, it makes us smart,” retorted Dipper, scowling at Wendy.

“I don’t know, dude. It feels like no matter what we go with, we’re going to have, like, major blood on our hands,” Soos piped up.

The room went quiet for a moment at his remark. But the quiet didn’t last long and the fighting quickly broke out once more. The repetitive bickering went back and forth while Stanford did nothing but watch and listen. He didn’t know who to side with. 

Killing Bill seemed like the obvious answer, but Mabel had a point as well. Was it moral, or even legal, to kill Bill while he was tied up and unconscious? Or was Dipper’s point more pressing? Did morality not matter, in such a wide spread danger as this? Did logic have the advantage over empathy in this argument? Would he even be able to kill Bill? Was it possible to kill the beast, even in this form? Would he even be able to kill him? When they were face to face would he be able to make that final blow? 

And this form that Bill had taken was it a strength or a weakness for the demon? Logically, if Bill really was human and weak enough to be killed by human means, then he wasn’t even a genuine threat. Not with how heavily he had always relied on his powers and invulnerability.

But if it was all a trick, if it was just another form that he took to deceive them, then he was even more dangerous. If they let their guard down and treated him like they would any other human… Had Bill chosen this form on purpose, had he known that Ford could only associate that face with positive memories? It wouldn’t be the first time he had used a human form to seduce and trick him. There had been a time when Bill would frequently use a human appearance to put him at ease and make him feel more comfortable. He wouldn’t be surprised if this was just another ruse. 

Ford's fists tightened and he took a deep breath. There were too many factors to consider with so little information before him and nowhere near enough time to consider it all. Everyone was expecting him to make a choice, and make one soon. He had to make the final call, he had to be the leader. 

Stanford felt a hand on his shoulder and snapped out of his thoughts to see Fiddleford standing before him. 

“What do you think about all this, Fiddleford?” Ford asked quietly, suddenly aware that all of the room's attention was now on them. 

Fiddleford spoke quietly, not addressing the room but simply speaking to Ford, “The way I see it? It’s kill or be killed. Plain and simple. It doesn’t matter what’s right or wrong right now. It’s about survival- survival for us and our friends and family. It won’t be pretty or easy, but it has to be done.” 

Ford let out a long sigh, he didn’t want to do this. He had already done so much for the sake of stopping Bill, there had been a time when every ounce of humanity had been stripped away from him for the sake of the rest of humankind. He didn’t want to be that person again. But he didn’t have a choice. It was Bill or his family.

“You’re right. Stan, give me your gun.” 

Stan seemed a bit surprised but still complied, pulling the small pistol from the hidden holster in his jacket. He hesitated as Ford reached for it. 

“Are you sure, Sixer? I’d be happy to-“

“No, it has to be me. I… I have to do this.” 

Stan nodded in silent understanding and held out the handle of the gun for Ford to take. 

“Grunkle Ford, please. There has to be another way,” Mabel begged.

Ford took one look at his niece’s teary eyed expression and had to look away. The pang of guilt was far too much for him to handle right now. 

Ford did his best to steel his nerves as he walked down the hall to his room. The walk seemed to drag on forever and Ford couldn’t help but take his time, making it even longer. He had to pause several times to force himself to keep going. He wanted nothing more than to run back to his family and make someone else finish the job. By the time he reached the door, he couldn’t bring himself to turn the knob. His hand felt like lead at his side and he could only stare at the worn metal. The gun felt like a bag of bricks tied to his wrist, too heavy to lift and use. All of this heaviness - reluctance, he didn’t want to admit to himself - threatened to weigh him down and bring him to his knees.

It felt like it took an eternity for him to gather himself and whatever scraps of courage he had left, but eventually he forced himself to take a deep breath. He turned the doorknob and swung the door open.

Bill woke up disoriented and so dizzy he doubted he could tell up from down right now. He had spent days walking through dreams, his form mutating and shifting against his will. It had been agonizing, desperately clinging to the minds of the only humans he knew, unable to control anything but his own words. The never ending undulation of his form, his body , seemed to burn him far deeper than anything else ever had. He blinked a few times to readjust, closing one eye then the other.

Two eyes…

He was different, so obviously so that he doubted he could have missed it if he hadn’t felt so off-kilter. 

He tried to move his arms, but found them stiffly locked in place. His legs too, for that matter. No, that wasn’t right; he could feel the strain in his shoulders and joints - which he had now, and wasn’t that bizarre - but something seemed to be stopping him. He craned his head to find his arms, disgustingly human in appearance, tied to a bedpost. Looking down, his legs were in the same shape, bound by ropes and zip ties and just as horrifically human. 

Had this been what that dumb axolotl had meant by change being necessary? No, this was absolutely ridiculous. 

Someone had dressed him in pajamas that hung off his frame. He frowned as he caught a whiff of the clothes; these were Sixer’s clothes, there was no doubt about it. He’d recognize the smell of pine and paper and ink, with the odd addition of old basement musk anywhere. Though it now held a charming hint of the salty sea and hot sun. Bill smiled to himself, a wave of calm washing over him. Surely he’d be safe if he was with Sixer! He had taken the time to dress him in his own clothes, it almost felt romantic if Bill deluded himself enough. He would be able to get out of this bind no problem and then he’d be back on easy street. That ax was a fool to release him.

Bill glanced around, if these were Sixer’s clothes then that meant… this was Sixer’s house. Of course- only good ol’ Fordsy would be paranoid enough to tie him up while he was sleeping. Bill couldn’t help but laugh. Stanford was predictable as ever. 

Bill tried his best to summon even a small ounce of power to free himself from his bonds but nothing came to him. It took a few more tries before the realization dawned on him. Had he truly been reduced to nothing but a pathetic human? Sure, it was fun and amusing to be a human for a few hours or to pretend to be one in the mindscape, but how long did Ax expect him to be so weak and helpless? So… vulnerable ? It couldn’t have been forever, right? Surely it was just until Ax decided he had learned some bullshit lesson about love or friendship or some other made up fairy tale.

His head whipped around as the door to the bedroom slowly creaked open, revealing Stanford Pines himself in the doorway. He stood there, like he was haunting his own bedroom as he stared at Bill. 

Bill couldn’t help but stare, taken aback by how much older he looked. How different he was. Stress and worry was evident in his face but otherwise he looked so much better than when they had last met. Bill hated how good he looked if he was being honest. How could he do so much better without him. 

“Sixer! Long time no see! Man, it feels like every time we meet you just get older and older. Say why don’t you get over here and get me out…” The words died on his tongue as his eye- eyes- caught on the gleam of metal in Ford’s hand. 

A gun.

A gun that was meant for him, no doubt. Bill's thoughts began to race, running in pace with the horrible human heart he now bore in his chest. If he truly was human now, then a fatal gunshot would truly mean game over. There would be no more restarting, no more laughing it off.

 This is your last chance. If you mess this up, I will not be there to save you from yourself anymore. 

Surely Ax was just bluffing. Surely he wouldn’t let him die. Right? Right??

There had to be some way out of this mess. He was the master of charisma- If anyone could sweet talk their way out of this mess, it was him.

First came denial.

“Oh, come on, Sixer. You’re not really going to shoot me.”

A shot rang out, a bullet whizzing past his ear and implanting itself in the bed frame behind him. It clipped his skin and Bill could feel it burning. His ears rang and he instantly felt dizzy. The blood that trickled down his face was the first concrete proof that he was really about to die. He heard a scream ring out a few rooms down, he recognized it as Mabels.

 He hadn’t even seen the man move at first, it was such a small thing. He still stood woodenly in the doorway, face drawn down in thought. The only difference was his arm had raised and the gun was now pointed firmly in his direction. There was no shake in Ford's hand, no hesitation in his expression. 

“Try me,” came Ford's reply.

Well, that didn’t work. Now what? Bill scrambled for anything else to say. Deflection it is, then.  

“You know, you never struck me as the gun type,” Bill forced out a humorless laugh. “I always thought if you were to kill me, you’d do it with your hands. Nice and slow.”

Ford took another step into the room. The expression on his face was dead set and determined. Bill had seen a lot of humans look at him with disgust and fear and anger, but when Ford looked at him, he just seemed so… disappointed. Why did he have to look at him like that? He didn’t like the way it made something roll and flop over in his chest.  

His heart was pounding so hard he was almost worried it’d burst out of his skin. He felt like his whole body was rebelling against him, begging him to scream and flail and panic.

He was grasping at straws. He didn’t know what else to do. Every stupid tactic in his stupid arsenal wasn’t working.

“Sixer, we both know that a gun would never be enough to kill me.” Bill laughed, unable to hide the nervousness it held. 

His manipulations were falling on deaf ears at this point, he realized. Stanford no longer seemed to be listening as he made his way across the room. Bill was still stumbling for things to say - anything to give him one damn minute to think - when Ford made it to the bed where he lay. 

“You know, Fordsy, this is a really kinky way to kill someone you supposedly hate so much,” he tried as a last resort, going to wink but just blinking instead.

Ford's cheeks turned pink with humiliation.

“Shut up,” whispered Ford, “Why?Why did you have to come back? Why do you always have to come back and ruin everything ? Why are you here again? I was finally okay.”

The crack of Ford's voice as he spoke awoke a feeling of shame that Bill usually did his best to keep deep down. It writhed inside him, squirming and ugly and so uncomfortable he wanted to gag. Bill had been so sure all this time that Ford had wanted him dead, that they had both driven each other insane to the point that they wanted to carnally rip each other apart. There had been a time when he had found that concept delightful. But now it was clear to him that Ford's goal was far different. Ford didn’t want him dead, he wanted him gone. He wanted him to disappear, to never even exist in the first place. This realization made him feel worse. He wasn’t so horrible that he deserved this terrible treatment. Right?

Shame grew more violent inside him, he did his best to push it far, far down, replacing it instead with something he could understand a little better: rage. He wanted to scream back that he didn’t know why. He didn’t understand why everywhere he looked it was always Stanford standing in his way. He would happily be anywhere else. Somewhere far far away from here. 

“Listen here, Sixer-” he spit, insults already on the tip of his tongue.

The barrel of the gun against his temple cut off his angry rant, cold and dangerously solid. This was it. He was really going to die so soon after getting free. 

Now he had an entirely different feeling to contend with- fear. Fear so deep and palpable he could feel his pathetic human body begin to tremble. Fear worse than when he had first glimpsed the third dimension. Worse than his first day alone, without his home. Worse than when he lost Ford. Worse than when he died for the first time. It was worse than anything he’d ever felt, and it suffocated him. This death felt so real. The cold metal of the gun, the ropes and plastic digging into his skin, it was all painfully real. This death would be painful. This death would be human. This death would be final . 

And all the while the words Axolotl had said to him replayed on a loop.

This is your last chance. I won't be there to save you anymore. 

Bill scrambled for words, desperate for any way out of this.There was only one thing left for him to do: Lie. 

“I’m sorry, Bill. It’s you or my family,” Ford said as his finger inched for the trigger again, almost in slow motion. 

“Wait!” Bill’s voice squeaked, “Stanford please, wait. Listen to me. I’m here to make amends. I’ve had a lot of time to think and I realized that…” Bill fished around in his brain, trying to remember what that stupid space therapist kept drilling into his head, “I realized that I was using other people's pain as a way to distract from my own. I really messed up. I kept telling you all those years ago that nobody understood you, but it’s really the other way around.”

Bill felt like he was reading off a script, taking a while to fall back into the natural group of proper manipulation. Doctors were easy to lie to but Ford required a certain finesse, “You’re the only one who gets me. Everyone else is scared of me. They hate me because I’m different. But you… you loved me because I was different. You thought all my odd quirks were charming. You called me fascinating. Do you remember that? I never told you back then, but nobody had ever called me fascinating before.” 

Bill glanced up, making his eyes wide and sad as the perfect cherry on top, just to see Ford with a face full of conflict. The gun slowly lowered from his head causing Bill to let out a relieved sigh. He wanted Ford to say something, anything. But all he saw when he looked into his eyes was sadness and regret. Bill was practically choking on the shame, unsure where the truth had begun to spring up in his wall of lies. 

He expected Ford to accuse him of lying, to call his bluff or change his mind once more and pull the trigger. None of that happened. Ford sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He didn’t say a single word as he turned and left Bill alone once more. 

The rest of the group had gathered around the door to the bedroom when the first gunshot rang out. They were as quiet as a morgue, trying to make out any semblance of noise that could indicate what was happening. The entire group stumbled back as Ford exited the room and very swiftly closed the door behind him. He studied the face of each one of his comrades individually as he leaned against the door before finally handing the gun, not to Stan, but to Mabel.

Quietly, so soft that the words scraped painfully from his throat, he admitted, “I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.”

Chapter Text

Mabel looked down at the gun in her hands, shocked that it had been handed to her instead of Stan. The gun felt heavy and cold in her hands and she was overwhelmed with the realization that she had never held a real gun before. It was nothing like her old grappling gun or any other weapon she held before. This weapon carried the weight of being able to take a human life in an instant. 

Despite this Mabel felt honored that Ford had entrusted the gun to her and she knew exactly why he did too. It wasn’t just that Ford couldn’t bring himself to kill Bill, he didn’t want anyone else to either. And he trusted her with that.

“It’s okay, Grunkle Ford, I can take things from here,” she reassured her uncle. Ford didn’t respond but Mabel could see the relief in his eyes, palpable in the line of his shoulders going slack. The two of them exchanged a brief hug before Stan led Ford away from the crowd. Good, she knew that he could be trusted with his brother, if nothing else.

“Alright the rest of you,” Mabel glared at the cluster around the door, “it’s Mabel’s turn.” 

Enlisting the help of her brother, the two of them rushed up the attic stairs in search of supplies. While Dipper was reluctant to help his sister with any non-murder related schemes at first, he was very quick to change his tune when Mabel shared with him the details of her plan. She may not have been the planner out of the two of them, but she was very good when it came to people and even Dipper would acknowledge that. Within 15 minutes they were back in front of the door to Stanford’s bedroom, arms loaded with supplies. 

  “Alright, Bill, how are we feeling this morning?” 

The woman before him was all teeth, a smile so wide it took up most of her head and her eyes were almost swallowed up by perfect red lips. Bill supposed they were a doctor-patient match made in heaven. He was all eye, and she was all mouth. 

He sat on his bed in the miserable padded cell he now called home, across from him sat the doctor, all poise. Bill wondered where they dragged the chairs in from, he most certainly never got a chair. He would have just used it as a weapon anyways. 

Bill hated every single moment he spent in this place. He hated the color of the walls, he hated the other patients here, and he really hated the constant rotation of medication and doctors and therapy. But Dr. Pearly-Whites - he could not be bothered to remember her real name - was a nice break in routine. Maybe it was the way she reminded him of Pyronica. Maybe it was just that she was as much a freak show compared to some of the other patients and doctors, just like he was.

“Oh, I’m doing just great. In fact, I think I’m so great that I’m cured and ready for my reintroduction to society,” he said, bland and blatantly insincere.

Dr. Pearly-Whites let out a laugh - genuine, without a hint of sarcasm - and crossed her legs, “Oh Bill, that joke gets funnier every time you tell it.”

It’s not a joke. It never was.

“Well what’s on the docket today, Doc? Is the lobotomy back in style, because it would be preferable to this shit show!” Bill cackled. 

The doctor's smile never once faltered, even as she wrote down notes on her clipboard. He was starting to hate that smile.

“Now, we talked about positive attitude. I can’t help you if you don’t want to change.” 

Change? Change what? I’m perfect just as I am. You all are the ones who can’t accept me. 

“You’re so right, doc. How silly of me.” It was so easy to tell them what they wanted to hear, Bill was very good at that. He was just as good at swallowing the bitterness it left on his tongue, too.

“Very good. Now let me ask again, how are you feeling this morning?”

Bill's head shot up as the door opened once more, expecting it to be Ford finally returning to finish the job. Instead, framed by the light spilling in from the doorway, were the Pines’ twins. If Bill had been shocked by Ford’s change in appearance, it was nothing in comparison to his shock at seeing the change in the twins. They were adults now. Both of them were freakishly tall, though Dipper hid his height with a pronounced slouch. His hair had grown longer to brush against his shoulders while Mabel had chopped off almost all of her hair so that it swayed around her ears. She had swapped the bright sweaters she had been so fond of for cardigans and Dipper's signature pinetree hat had been replaced with a wooly lumberjacks cap. Time had never meant much to him, but it was so startling to see its stark effects on humans.

But despite all of their differences, there was no denying it was Dipper and Mabel Pines standing before him. 

Dipper glared at Bill from behind a stack of blankets and pillows, but Mabel smiled widely. Her teeth gleamed white and bright, braces gone and grin nearly threatening.

“Hello, Bill,” she said, clapping and rubbing her hands together, “how are you feeling?”

Bill stared for a long moment, the realization washing over him like freezing water. The phrase was painfully familiar and forced him to acknowledge that this wasn’t freedom from the Theraprism of..This wasn’t a transfer, or a do-over- this was still the Theraprism. Only now, his doctors were the people who hated him more than anything. The people who wanted him dead. 

It was then, for a brief moment, Bill remembered what he had confessed to Stanford in a rushed breath.

I wish I had died.

He wished he had died. He hated himself for shaking Ax’s hand. For agreeing to the ‘trials’ of his. He should have just faced his death with dignity knowing he went out making as many people miserable as possible. Why couldn’t that just be enough for him?

“So,” Mabel said, fishing a pair of scissors from the craft caddy she carried with her, “You’re really human, huh?”

Bill began to nod but stopped to squirm away as Mabel sat on the edge of the bed, hovering over him with scissors in hand. For a second he believed her intent was to stab him but the next thing he knew he was free, able to use his arms and legs for the first time since he had gotten them. He wiggled his fingers experimentally, then rotated his wrists, then flexed his arms. He sat up and stretched his legs. Each movement felt alien and weird to him. Not a single movement he made felt like his own. 

As he experimented, Mabel sat down the craft caddy between them and began rummaging through it. Beside her loomed her brother who continued to shoot him distrusting looks. 

“How do we know you’re not lying? That you’re not just pretending to be human to trick us?” Dipper asked.

“Listen, Pinetree,” this got Bill an even dirtier look than before, “if I was truly as all-powerful as I was before, why would I let myself get tied up? Why wouldn't I just escape? Better yet, why would I let your uncle nearly kill me? Don’t you think if I was all powerful I’d just disintegrate him or something?”

“You wouldn’t if you needed something from us.”

“Kid, what could I possibly want from you that I couldn’t get far, far easier from the billions of other far more gullible and trusting rubes on this miserable planet?”

Dipper had no answer for that, and fell back into an uneasy silence.

Bill heard the bells before he saw them. Their melodic clinking caused his head to turn back to Mabel who held up the golden bells with a mischievous grin. 

“Give me your wrist, Bill,pretty please,” her voice was sweet but it was very clear that this was making her wickedly giddy.

Bill drew his hands against his chest, shaking his head.

“Come on, you either deal with me or Grunkle Ford and I promise you, my pent up rage is nothing compared to his.”

Bill had noticed. He reluctantly held out his arm and watched as Mabel attached the bells to ribbons and then tied those ribbons to Bill's wrists. The bells jingled with every movement that Bill made, he already hated the noise.

“So what are these supposed to do anyways?” Bill asked, shaking the bells in Mabel's face.

“Well, on earth, we have these things called cats-” Mabel started.

“I know what a cat is.”

“Don't interrupt me. And sometimes we let cats outside but when we let out the cats they tend to hunt birds. Sometimes they’ll just keep hunting and hunting, not even cuz they’re hungry. They just do it for fun. Sometimes cats will hunt one type of bird so much it will go extinct. But, if we put a bell collar on them, then the cat can’t sneak up on the birds. When the cat goes to pounce, the bell rings and the bird is scared off. Understand?”

Bill understood plenty. He was a cat, hunting ‘birds’ just for the fun of it. If you asked Bill, cats sounded like they had it made. Always running around, doing what they wanted. Fucking with birds…

“Yeah I got it. Would hate for someone to get smothered in their sleep,” Bill chuckled to himself but neither of the twins found his joke very funny. 

Dipper and Mabel shared a look, holding a whole conversation between the two without ever speaking a word. Bill found it very frustrating to be left out of the loop. He had never realized what it was like to be completely cut out. When he was a demon, there was always some way for him to worm his way in, he could read minds and if that didn’t work he could slip into their dreams. His eyes were everywhere. He saw everything. But now he sat here and he had no clue what was going on. He felt so utterly foolish in clothes that didn’t fit him with dainty ribbons around his wrist, jingling like a jester every time he so much as blinked. They had turned him into a human pet, something that was meant to be his job. They must think they’re so funny, amusing themselves at his expense. They used to fear him and now they were laughing. His hands balled up into fists and he became acutely aware of the way his breathing grew heavy. He had never wanted to scream so badly in his life. 

Mabel placed a hand over Bill's fist. 

“Hey. Chill out.”

Bill took a deep breath, yanking his hand away. 

“I’m ‘chill’. I’ve never been chiller. ” Bill waved his hands as he talked, the jingling of the bells accentuating his words.

Dipper and Mabel stared at him for a moment before both of them burst into laughter. Bill’s cheeks turned red and he clawed at the fabric of his pants to keep from shouting at both of them. This was so humiliating. 

“Mabel you were right you can not take him seriously with those bells on.”

The heat on Bill's cheeks spread to his whole face. One thing he never realized before in his life was just how physically emotions manifested in humans. His rage was so much more than just rage. It was a heightened heartbeat in a tightened chest. It was heavy breathing with struggling lungs. It was burning skin and a red swath of color over him to signal to everyone just how he was feeling. And quite possibly the worst of all was the feeling of a horrible scratching creature in his throat that he couldn’t quite swallow, the one that made his eyes burn. It was a feeling he had never experienced before, not like this.

“Whatever!” Bill snapped, leaping to his feet, “Are you two planning on sitting around laughing at me all day or do you have an actual plan for me?”

He glared at the two of them, feeling an…odd feeling from seeing Mabel flinch slightly as he yelled. He tugged at his shirt, almost willing her to stop being so stupidly afraid when he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Mabel sighed and stood up as well. 

“Yes we have a plan. You’re very unpredictable. It would be stupid to let you roam free. So we’ve decided you’ll be staying in our sights and under our roof until we find you, trustworthy.”

“ If we find you trustworthy,” added Dipper. 

Bill had almost half a mind to protest but he decided against it. As much as he hated every single being under this roof, being tossed outside to fend for himself would most likely mean death. He didn’t have the slightest idea of how to preserve his new fleshy prison, he had no resources, nobody to help him and he highly doubted Ford would allow him to keep his clothes if they kicked him out. 

“As I told Sixer, I’m here to make amends. I’m ready to be a new man. To rehabilitate. I’ve spent too much time um,” Bill once again grasped for some stupid line his therapist had fed him, “wrapping myself in blankets of denial. I’m looking at the world with open eye- sorry, eyes - from now on.”

The twins looked at each other and rolled their eyes in unison. Bill wanted to knock their skulls together. 

“Follow me, please.” Mabel said, stepping towards the door. 

Bill followed behind her, cautious and a bit wobbly on his new legs (god when had been the last time he had walked?). Dipper waited for them both to exit before bringing up the rear. As they walked through the house Bill couldn’t help but take it all in. It was so different, so clearly no longer Ford’s house but an odd amalgamation of every person who ever lived in it. Fords taxidermy and samples now sprinkled with glitter, odd trinkets and tchotchkes crammed in with scientific research. Inventions sat side by side with arts and crafts papers and books of every subject littered almost every available surface. Chaos everywhere from the messiest of the household and neatly written requests for clean-ups from the cleanest. Once upon a time this house had felt so empty, a reflection of the loneliness of his owner. Now it teamed with life, couches had been pushed into the living room to account for more bodies, the two small little dining tables were now pushed together to allow everyone to eat together.  Everything felt so unfamiliar, 40 years removed from the days when he had free reign of the place every night when Ford was asleep, but underneath it all, it was still Ford. He was always everywhere.

The twins lead him through the house and into the stupid tacky gift shop. Mabel paused in front of a door labeled “Employees Only”. Bill recognized this doorway as the entrance to the basement, the one that used to have a vending machine in front of it. Mabel pushed the door open and led the group downstairs and to the elevator. Bill felt his stomach do flips when he realized where they were taking him. Ford's old office.

When the elevator doors opened, Bill was rather surprised to find the office relatively unchanged. Other than the absence of his personage plastered on every wall it was exactly the same. He relished in the familiarity of it. He wondered if Mabel had chosen this room to make him uncomfortable. If she had, then it had truly done the opposite. This was his one small reprieve from the horrible confusion and chaos that was his present situation.

Dipper dropped the pillows and blankets he had been carrying on the ground, causing a large plume of dust to erupt underneath. Bill grimaced, this place clearly had not been occupied in a very long time.

“This is your room. You are free to come and go as you please. The bedrooms are off limits.” Mabel said, “I’d say don’t leave the house but I think you’re smarter than that. But seriously don’t leave the house and honestly avoid talking with anyone who isn’t us. If someone recognized you it could cause mass hysteria.”

Mass hysteria…oh how he missed people running around and screaming because of him.

Mabel snapped her fingers in front of Bill's face, “Hey! I saw that dreamy look, mister. This is not the fun kind of mass hysteria. This is the type that ends with a public execution. Chop, chop.”

Mabel brought her hand down on her palm in a slicing motion to exemplify her point.

”Wait, you’re seriously letting me have free reign of the place? You’re not going to shackle me to the wall, set up alarm systems, lock the door, anything?” 

Mabel scoffed, “Of course not! We’re not you.”

Bill rolled his eyes. He detested their lack of fear and their disrespect. He was totally capable of murdering them even as a human and yet they all acted like he was a stray puppy they had found outside. 

“Tonight dinner is at 7. You are welcome to eat because you are a human now and that's something you need to do. As for what comes next, well…Bill Cipher, consider me your human coach!” Mabel grinned wickedly, bouncing up and down with excitement.”

Bill did not like the sound of that.

“Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to be human and junk. Drinking water, brushing teeth, walking like you aren’t a baby goat that was just born.”

“Hey-”

“And when Pacifica arrives we will be giving you a makeover!!”

Mabel seemed very excited at the thought of giving anyone a makeover, even if it was an interdimensional demon. Bill, however, was less than enthused.
“A makeover?” He asked, making no effort to hide his disgust. 

“What? Were you planning on moping about in Grunkle Ford's pajamas forever?”

If he’ll let me. 

“Of course not! I just think a makeover is a bit extreme. Can’t we just go ‘shopping’ or something?”

“Bill. As much as I would LOVE to go shopping, I can’t take you to the mall so I wouldn’t be able to have a little fashion montage where you come out of the dressing room in different outfits and I judge them and then eventually you come out in an outfit that is just so amaze-balls that I can’t help but gasp because who knew that the creepy demon guy could be so fashionable. I would love to do that and to be your fashion muse but I can’t and so putting together some outfits at home is the next best thing. A fashion montage will still happen but it won’t be as fun because every outfit will be amazing because I made them.” 

“You lost me a little there, shooting star.”

“Oh don’t worry about it. Just know that you’ll be getting a few new outfits so you can stop looking like a depressed teenager and Ford can get his clothes back.”

Bill didn’t know what most of what Mabel had just said meant, for all of her flaws Bill had to admire her ability to sow chaos into everything she did. He kinda just nodded along, a little worried as to what he was nodding along with. 

“But for now, we will leave you to settle in, see you at dinner!” Mabel grabbed her brother's wrist and dragged him out of the room with her. With the solid clunk of the elevator door, Bill was left alone once again.
The first thing he did was pick up his blankets from the floor and place them somewhere slightly less dusty. Once that was done, he began rummaging around the office for some way to clean up the floor. He was grateful when he found a broom tucked in the corner and thanked the pedanticism of a young Stanford. He held the broom in one hand for a moment before realizing he didn’t really understand how to use it. He had never really bothered to study the cleaning habits of humans because, duh, that would be boring as hell. He took the broom in both hands and swished it from side to side, finding with much frustration that it only really moved the dust around and didn’t really get rid of it. He tried several more methods but each one seemed more of a failure than the last. It took a lot of work and by the time he had the floor clean he realized he didn’t know how to actually throw the pile of dust away. It took another eternity he was able to sweep all the dust into the pan, but as he went to dump it into the garbage on the other side of the room, he dropped the pan. The plume of dust that followed was so large that Bill knew his work had been completely ruined. He let out an enraged scream, grabbing the broomstick and bringing it down over his head. The resulting impact was so satisfying that Bill brought the broomstick up even higher this time before smashing it against the ground. Then he did it again, and again and again. He took out every frustration he had had for the last ten years on this broom. Every outburst he had been forced to repress or punished for was now this broom's fault. When Bill finally stopped his tirade, the handle of the broom had bent out of shape in several spots. It was no longer usable for sweeping. The realization that Bill wouldn’t be able to clean up all the dust he had spilled enraged him even more and with one last guttural yell he threw the broom at the wall and watched it break into two. 

So much for a clean spot to sleep in.

Bill found the cleanest part of the floor, far away from the busted broom and dust mess and set up his blankets and pillows. He crawled into the makeshift bed and for the first time all day realized how exhausted he was. It didn’t even matter that the cold, dusty ground was not even remotely comfortable. Not even the soft tinkle of the bells could keep Bill from falling into a dreamless sleep.

He didn’t know how long he had been asleep for when he was awoken by the sound of the elevator doors sliding open. He stayed still, listening to the heavy set of footsteps as it made his way towards his bed. Bill closed his eyes as the person came closer and set something by his head. After a few moments he dared to open his eyes to see Ford with his back towards him, rummaging through one of the desks. In front of him was a plate of food.

“What are you doing here?” Bill asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

Ford jumped a bit, turning just his head in Bill's direction. 

“I was worried about Dipper and Mabel putting you down here. I haven’t had the chance to properly clean it out. I still have valuables down here and when you didn’t come to dinner I was worried you were down here destroying things.”

Ford spoke so matter-of-factly, like he was discussing the weather.

“Looks like I was right to worry,” Ford tacked on with a bit of sass, causing Bill to tense.

“I was trying to clean!” Bill rebutted, sitting up further in bed.

“Oh, really? I couldn’t tell.”

Bill seethed. These humans made him so angry he couldn’t take it. Why was it no matter what they did he always felt so angry. If they were mean he was angry, if they were upset with him, he was angry. Even when they humiliated and embarrassed him he still found a way to be angry. It was like every other emotion eventually gave way to anger, no matter what. 

“Oh, that’s really ironic, coming from the man who stopped showering when his mistress left him.”

“Oh, not this again.”

“Oh, yes, this again.”

Ford slammed down whatever he was holding on the desk and whipped around to properly face Bill. 

“You know Fiddleford is-was… is not my mistress. He was my friend, my only true friend, apparently.”

“Oh, please, that damn hick could never get you the way I do. I understood you, we understood each other. And then you went and threw that all away! I still don’t understand. Why?” Bill rose to his feet. “Why would you throw us away when we could have had everything?”

“There was never any ‘us’, Bill! It was just you. You and your plans and your wants and your desires and I was just expected to go along with it. You never cared about what I wanted. If you cared you wouldn’t have lied. You never respected me.”

“What is that supposed to mean? I respected you plenty. You think I wouldn’t have chosen you if I didn’t know you were smart and capable?” 

Ford threw up his hands in frustration, “You don’t get it, Bill! You. Don’t. Respect. Me! Someone who respected me would give a shit about whether I actually wanted to go along with your stupid schemes. You didn’t give a shit about if I would follow you willingly. You just wanted your bidding done and you wanted it done now . And so you were willing to butter me up with gifts and partying and all the compliments in the world. God ,” Bill could hear the tears beginning to creep into Ford's voice once more. The horrible slithering feeling of shame was back, flopping around like a beast in his stomach, “I really loved you. And I really thought you loved me. That was the stupidest mistake I ever made.”

Bill struggled for a rebuttal. He had no argument, no comforting words and so instead he picked up his second victim of destruction for the day, the freshly prepared plate of food, and threw it against the wall. 

“You don’t want change, Bill,” Ford whispered, staring at the pieces of the broken plate that had scattered between them, “You can only get angry in the face of all you’ve done wrong. You don’t want to change and you want to know how I know? You haven’t even said ‘I’m Sorry’. Not even with a gun to your head could you say it.” 

Ford kicked the pieces of broken pieces of the plate and sighed, once more accepting defeat. He turned to leave, not even once looking back at Bill, who watched him the whole way to the elevator. It wasn’t until the elevator had begun its ascent that the words finally left Bill's mouth, so quiet even he was unsure if he had really said it.

“I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

Bill woke up the next morning with a beast in his stomach. 

At least that's what it felt like. A horrible scratching beast that growled and moaned and could not sit still. He lay in bed, wallowing in his own agony until Mabel came down with breakfast. The smell of fluffy waffles and savory meats only seemed to anger the beast in his stomach more, causing it to let out another howl.

“Someone’s hungry!” Mabel teased, setting the plate in front of Bill, “Try not to throw this one okay?” 

She winked at him and Bill chuckled softly as he pulled the plate towards him. All it took was one bite and Bill lost control. He shoveled food into his mouth with his hands, completely ignoring the silverware that Mabel had brought down for him. He only took pauses to look for pills in his food, an old habit from the Theraprism he supposed. In between bites he couldn’t help but mumble to himself,

“God, this is so much better than hospital food.”

He meant for the comment to just be for him but Mabel cocked her head to the side, brows furrowing. 

“Hospital food? I didn’t know demons needed hospitals,” she said.

“They don’t,” was Bill's bitter reply. 

Once Bill had scarfed down all his food, Mabel handed him a cup of water to wash it all down. The water felt cool as it ran down his throat and by the time Bill had finished the cup he felt so satisfied he was just about ready to lay down and fall back asleep. But Mabel had other plans, yanking him to his feet and leading him to the elevator doors. 

“Today begins your human-ing 101 lessons. I suppose lesson one is food and water. Both are necessary for humans to live. You need three meals a day and water as often as possible. Now Dipper and Stan and Ford might say otherwise but the following things are not water: coffee, tea, any kind of alcohol, washing your hands does not count as absorbing water, taking a shower is also not a good source of water, juice is not water, neither is…”

Bill tuned Mabel out as they went up the elevator, god this stupid human body was so much work. Everything was so much work. Now he had a million things he didn’t want to do that got in the way of the important stuff, the stuff he did want to do. And most of these tasks were literally a requirement for staying alive. No wonder humans were all so miserable. 

“...and that's why you should shower every day.”

Bill just nodded along, not listening in the slightest. As they made their way back through the main floor of the house, Bill couldn’t help but look for Stanford, the events of their fight last night replaying in his head. He didn’t know which desire was stronger, the one to see him or the one to stay as far away from him as possible.

Mabel stopped when they reached the living room, which had undergone a complete makeover. Drapes of fabric hung everywhere he looked, sewing supplies, buttons, glitter and sequins. Placed inconveniently in the center of the room was a little circular platform placed before a mirror. A large sewing machine sat on the nearby table, almost hidden by several more piles of fabric. Lounging in the armchair in front of the TV was Pacifica Northwest. Bill had only seen her a few times before, but it was unmistakable that it was her. She hadn’t even changed much from what Bill could tell. Her bleach blonde hair draped down past her waist, only interrupted by a streak of pink in her bangs. She still dressed the same, carried herself the same. She stuck out the least in a house of morphing and changes. 

“Oh great. The tortilla chip is here.” She said, not even looking up from her phone.

Bill huffed and rolled his eyes, bells ringing as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Mabel giggled, leading Bill onto the platform as Pacifica approached.

“Listen here, demon. Mabel might have been playing nice so far but I will not be so kind. You are only here because this is fun for Mabel. This is not a favor, this is not a gift. Mabel would dress up a venomous snake if it meant she got to give someone a makeover. So stay in your lane because if it was up to me you’d be wearing a prison jumpsuit.” 

Bill smiled widely, eyes narrowed into slits, “I. Would. Rather. Die.”

Pacifica returned Bill’s smile with one of her own, “That. Can. Be. Arranged.”

Mabel stepped between them, measuring tape in hand, “Okay, ladies, let's get to work.”

Bill felt like an oversized doll as Mabel and Pacifica fussed over him. He stood there and stared at himself in the mirror the whole time, trying his best to pretend like he wasn’t here. Instead, he took the time to truly commit himself to memory. He wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with his new form; it was one that he had used around Ford. Except this one lacked all the dramatic flairs he had enjoyed adding to his form. No more sharp teeth or cool eyepatch or pointed ears that he had added only to show off to Ford. Even his signature glowing yellow eyes sat dully golden in his skull. His form had aged, now wrinkles grew around his eyes and mouth. Standing for more than ten minutes was excruciating, though he couldn’t tell if that was an old human thing or due to how little he had stood up in his old form. The thing that stuck out to him most, however, was the dark birthmark over his right eye. It was almost bruise-like in shape, like a permanent wine stain on his skin. It was faint red in color and looked frankly stupid in Bill's opinion. He would have looked cooler with a sick scar or a glass eye. He didn’t understand the mark at first, the Ax had made no other unnecessary changes to his body, just this one thing. So why? 

That’s when it hit him. Stanley. The finishing blow, that stupid hit to his eye. This was a reflection of how he died. Oh, that dumb Axolotl thought he was so funny didn’t he. Was this his idea of a joke?

Bill sighed, watching the two girls bustle around him. At some point in his dissociation, his shirt had been removed and replaced with loosely pinned on fabric. He stared at himself and felt so ridiculous. Dipper passed by at one point and made no effort to hide his laughter. Bill wished more than anything to stick out his foot and trip him. 

Somewhere in between all the needle pricks and measurements in uncomfortable places and holding his arms out for what felt like hours on end, Stan wandered into the living room, rolling his eyes at the mess. 

“Jeez, Mabel, save some space for the rest of us,” Stan grumbled as he plopped down in the armchair.

“Sorry, Grunkle Stan! We’ll clean up before dinner!”

Stan glanced in Bill's direction and the two exchanged scowls.

“Bill.”

“Stanley.”

“Nice eye, you pick that out yourself?”

“ No,” Bill grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Stanley chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. He watched the girls work for a while longer before striking up a conversation with Bill. Bill wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole. 

“So where does a demon go when they die?” Stan mused, eyebrow raised.

Hell.

“Purgatory. I had no concept of time or up and down. I was there for so long with nothing to do but think.”
“Sounds miserable. So how’d you get here?”

It was clear from Stan's expression that this wasn’t just small talk. He was studying Bill and his responses to catch his bluff or call him in a lie. Bill didn’t mind too much, Stan might be a con man, but he didn’t really know enough on the other-planar to truly catch on if he was lying. 

“With help from a friend.”

Stan squinted his eyes, studying him for a long moment.

 “Some friend! Don’t know who they hate more, you or us.”

Some friend indeed.

He turned his head away from Stan to see Mabel staring at him, suspicion in her eyes.

“What do you want, shooting star?”

“Well, I’m just curious about where you really went when you died.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “Did you not just hear me? I was in purgatory. It’s where we all go when we die.”

Mabel still didn’t seem satisfied, but she just shrugged,“If you say so.”

Bill sat through several more measurements, fabric swatches, and outfit changes before Mabel and Pacifica finally broke for lunch. Bill sat on that dumb little circular platform and looked through his sandwich for pills, wishing that this day could be over already. And he was sure this wasn’t the end of Mabel's plans. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if this was only the beginning. That she was dragging out this entire ordeal to show to him and to everyone else that he had no power any more. Now all he was good for was a plaything for his former toys. 

While he was chewing on his sandwich, Mabel sat down beside him on the turntable. 

“Why do you do that?” Mabel asked.

“Do what?” Bill gave her a side eye, wishing for just one moment of peace.

“You keep looking through your food before you eat it. Why?”

“First thing you did when you found me was tie me up and try to shoot me. I wouldn’t be surprised if poison is next.”

“Bill, you know the poison won't be visible if we did poison you. Why are you really looking?”

Bill swallowed hard, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening, “Pills. I’m looking for pills.”

Mabel's eyes widened, and her brow furrowed. She thought for a long moment.

“That’s where you’ve been. A hospital. I thought it was so weird that you talked about hospital food earlier! But what kind of hospital takes care of demons?”

“I don’t think ‘take care’ is the right word. More like ‘fix’ like a dog,” Bill made a snipping motion with his fingers, “A never ending parade of medications that make you feel like a zombie, doctors who hate you and counselors who don’t care what you think or feel. It’s that kind of hospital.”

“Ohhh! You went to a mental hospital!” Mabel nodded in understanding, “I went to one of those once too. They suck so much.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. The year after you almost ended the world, it was the worst of my whole life. I thought that everything had been resolved and I had finally gotten my happy ending but when I got home everything was bad again. My parents were getting divorced, I was far away from all my friends and the only one I had to rely on was Dipper and he was also having a hard time too. I was so alone, everything that I had literally ended the world trying to protect was gone and there was nothing I could do about it. I wanted nothing more to escape from my day to day life. There was times when I wanted nothing more than to go back to that bubble. I wanted to live in a fantasy forever. I couldn’t deal with reality anymore. 

I barely dragged myself through that year, only getting through the day with a combination of self harm and dissociation. That next summer things felt okay for the first time in 9 months but that summer ended too. All the horrible feelings I felt at the end of last summer just came flooding back to me. I guess I just decided that I’d rather be dead than go back to a home that was crumbling all around me and go back to being completely alone.”

“All this because of me?” Bill couldn’t help but ask, feeling more curiosity than shame.

“No, Bill. I was already so depressed before I met you. My parents were fighting a lot and one day they just shipped us off for the summer to some weird town to live with a guy I had only met a handful of times and who wasn’t even particularly liked by my family. I went through so much stuff that summer, that didn’t even have to do with you and all of it made me stronger, but it also left emotional wounds that I didn’t know how to deal with. My brother was going to leave me and then after I thought everything was resolved, I went home and my life shattered all over again. And this time there was no magic bubble to shelter me away.” Mabel sighed, “What you did made everything so much worse, I still have nightmares about you sometimes, but what you did doesn’t matter any more, okay? It sucks and everyone is hurt by it but you are not as important in the grand scheme of things as you think you are. We’re all here, living amazing lives and being amazing people and there's nothing you can do about it.”

Bill frowned. He had always told himself that nothing he did mattered, that life was a game and everyone was all just specks of dust. And yet when Mabel said the same thing it frustrated him. For so long he thought that, if nothing he did mattered, then why not do what he pleased? But now, with his lack of infinite power and the overwhelming crushing feeling of his own morality he couldn’t help but wonder, what was the point of doing anything ?

“Jeez, did you come up with that just now or have you been rehearsing that for the last ten years?” Bill asked, chuckling to himself and hoping it wasn't obvious the way in which their talk affected him.

“Maybe one day you’ll get it, Bill,” Mabel stood, stretching out a hand, “Until then, let's get back to work.”

Chapter Text

A young man hung from the tree that Stanford had rested himself under, pulling himself up so that he was perched precariously on a branch. 

“Well? What do you think, Sixer? Pretty cool huh?”

Ford craned his neck to look up and admire the other man. He had to admit it was ‘pretty cool.’

“It is indeed impressive. What made you think of such a form?”

The young man swung himself down from his perch, landing rather ungracefully in the grass in a way that would have been rather painful if any of this had been real. 

“Well, I figured you’d like it if our forms were more compatible.” 

The other man crawled his way through the grass over to Ford, plopping himself next to him in order to rest his head upon his shoulder. 

“I liked your old form just fine, Bill”

And it was true, he enjoyed his time with Bill no matter what. After all, he was a muse, a partner, and a friend, no matter what he looked like. 

“Awe, do you not like it?” 

Bill faked a pout and Ford couldn’t help but chuckle. Not just at his expression but the absurdity of it all. Why in a million years would a god ever care about his opinion? But to Bill, it seemed to matter. Then again, Bill’s actions and thoughts never danced anywhere close to the realm of logic. If anything Bill seemed to do everything in his power to avoid logic and reason. To stomp upon it even. 

“I do like it, it suits you well. I just don’t want you thinking you have to go changing your form for me.” 

“Oh, Fordsy, you’re too kind to me!” 

Bill swooned dramatically, sprawling himself over Ford’s lap. Ford rolled his eyes and shoved him, sending him rolling away. Both of them busted into a fit of laughter 

“Okay enough fooling around, Bill. We have work to do.”

 Ford let himself be guided away by Stanley, grateful that the horrible weight of the gun was now lifted off of him. Stanley led him outside and Ford just sunk into the grass, wrapping his arms around himself. He felt Stan kneel down beside him and welcomed his warm embrace. It wasn’t long before the tears started to flow.

“I always do this! Why does he do this to me? He makes me look so pathetic and weak. I don’t know what came over me, even when he’s completely human he still manages to work a spell over me. I hate it! I hate feeling like I’m not in control and like every move I make is determined by him. I was free! I was finally free of his influence after 30 long years. Why did he have to come back here? God, Stanley I should have just let you do it,” Fords words tumbled out of his mouth like a runaway freight train on a collision path. His brother just nodded along and listened the best he could.

“I could…always…finish the job…” Stanley said carefully.

“No, it’s not just my brain having these conflicts. I realized something that I feel so stupid for not realizing before; we brought Bill inside right after we had finished the Bill-Safe shield around the house. If Bill was truly just in disguise it would have worked and we would have never been able to bring him inside.”

”Sweet Belgian waffles you’re right…”

”Well, I suppose it's not just that. It’s also something Bill told me when he was about to die.”

”Yeah?”

”He said he was here for a second chance, that he was a new man and he wanted to make amends.”

“And you believed that bowl of horse apples?” Stanley asked, pulling away from his brother.

“No, of course not! Would you? But when I looked into his eyes I understood something. Something so overwhelmingly sad that I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Him! Of all people! I realized that he is here to get something out of us, but it’s not part of some world ending scheme or murderous plot. He’s come crawling to us because we’re the closest thing to family he has. I don’t know where Bill has been before this or what series of events led him here. But he’s clearly been somewhere so terrible, he’d take a group of people who hate him more than anything over wherever he was before this. Bill has never been one to try and keep up appearances after his mask has slipped. He must be pretty desperate to play the ‘changed man’ routine with us of all people. He could have so easily begged for us to let him go and instead he begged to stay.”

“You gathered all that from one conversation?”

Ford neglected to mention Bill and his exchange via dreams when they had first returned to Oregon.

“I probably know Bill better than anyone in the universe. We were close once. I wouldn’t go so far as to call us…in love. But there were times he made it clear he cared, in his own miserable way. There are things he told me that I fully believe as truth, that I don’t believe he’s ever told anyone else.”

Stanley just nodded along, letting his brother talk. Ford had confessed a few times about the more romantic aspects of his relationship with Bill, but it still baffled him every time it was brought up. He could never in a million years imagine a side of Bill that could be likable enough to fall in love with. But he knew better than to ever tease his brother about his past relationship. He had done crazier things for way less reward. 

“So what’s next?” Stanley asked.

“Well for the time being I trust Mabel to handle things. She’s the only one of us with enough patience to deal with Bill. Not to mention, that girl is scarily good at passive-aggression and public humiliation. ”

“Oof, tell me about it. Mabel still plays my loser dance from when they were 12 sometimes.”

The brothers laughed, exchanging one last hug before they stood up and went back inside. 

Once Ford was sure that his room was Bill-free, he didn’t really make much effort to leave. He was scared that Bill was out somewhere in the house and he didn’t particularly want to risk facing him right now. Instead he once more turned to his journal for comfort and clarity of mind. 

Today Bill returned. I expected for his return to be marked with fire and death. I expected Bill to come back in full swing. And as much as I hate to admit it, I almost wish he had. I always thought that if Bill came back I would be ready to defeat him. I’ve gone over what I would do a million times in my head. I never expected this. Now there is no problem to be solved. Instead all my wounds from the last 40 years are being poked and prodded. I’m used to solving problems so I don’t have to think about myself, but now the problem is myself. 

Today Bill claimed he wished for a second chance. I don’t believe him for a second. I know he wants something from us and I know there's only one thing we could give him that he couldn’t get anywhere else. Familiarity. 

Maybe this is just a crazy theory. Maybe he truly is biding his time until he can rule the world again. But when we spoke in my dream he told me that he wished he had died and no matter what I do I can’t get that out of my head.
What was waiting for Bill on the other side? 

I don’t know what to do about the demon in the long term, but as long as he’s touting the line that he wants to be a better person, he can prove it. 

Ford added a small drawing of Bill at the bottom with little notes about the differences in his appearance. He couldn’t help it, he was still a scientist at heart. 

That night, he was a bit relieved to see that Bill had not joined them. He sat with Stan on his left and the twins on his right.

“So, Mabel,” Ford said, trying to sound casual, “Where is..Bill?”

“Probably still in the basement,” Mabel said with her mouth full.

“The basement?” Ford dropped his fork in shock.

“Yeah? Don’t worry I just put him up in your old office. Nobodys used that room for years. And your lab is securely locked up, don’t worry.”

“Mabel, why didn’t you tell me?”

“What? It’s not like there’s anything important down there. All your work is on the ship or in your room. It’s all old junk in the office.”

She had a point, but all that ‘old junk’ down there was stuff that he had put up for Bill. There was a whole box just filled with notes the two had exchanged when they had shared custody of his body. He could see it now, Bill holding up an old tapestry with his face on it, a sick grin on his face.

Awe, Fordsy, I knew you held a torch out for me all these years. I knew you missed me. Admit it, you missed me.

His cheeks were already flushed red at the mere thought of it. He cursed himself heavily for not being able to throw it all away. 

“There’s still plenty of important stuff down there!” Ford stood, ignoring Stan, Dipper and Mabel’s collective eye roll, “I’ll go retrieve it real quick.”

Mabel couldn’t help but chuckle and she leaned over to grab another plate and load it up with food. 

“Well can you take this with you at least? He needs to eat.”

Stanford complied, carrying the plate down to the basement. He felt a rush of relief upon finding Bill asleep. He gently set the plate down by Bill’s head and made his way over to his desk. If he wasn’t able to retrieve anything else tonight, he needed to dispose of all their stupid notes at the very least. As he searched he couldn’t help but notice the dustpan on the floor, dropped in the middle of a pile of dust and the desecrated broom lying several feet away. He cringed a bit wondering just what Bill had gotten up to while alone down here. 

He had finally found the box containing all his old notes when Bill's voice called out behind him, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. 

“What are you doing here?” Bill asked.

He didn’t want to face him. He instead just turned his head in Bill’s general direction. 

“I was worried about Dipper and Mabel putting you down here. I haven’t had the chance to properly clean it out. I still have valuables down here and when you didn’t come to dinner I was worried you were down here destroying things,” He kept his tone matter-of-fact, not wanting to betray his own emotions, “Looks like I was right to worry.” 

He couldn’t help the bit of attitude that came with that last sentence.

“I was trying to clean!” Bill shouted back at him.

“Oh, really? I couldn’t tell.”

He wasn’t even sure why he was being so snarky at the moment. He had this habit of letting his anger get the better of him at the worst of moments. He wished he could blame it on Bill bringing out the worst of him but he knew full well he had behaved the same way with Stan too.

“Oh, that’s really ironic, coming from the man who stopped showering when his mistress left him.”

Ford's grip tightened on the box of notes. He hated how Bill always brought up Fiddleford whenever they fought. Like it was some sort of gotcha moment. Like Fords perceived disloyalty was anything compared to whatever problem Bill had caused in the moment

“Oh, not this again.”

“Oh, yes, this again.”

Ford slammed down the box he was holding on the desk and whipped around to properly face Bill. 

“You know Fiddleford is-was… is not my mistress. He was my friend, my only true friend, apparently.”

“Oh, please, that damn hick could never get you the way I do. I understood you, we understood each other. And then you went and threw that all away! I still don’t understand. Why?” Bill rose to his feet. “Why would you throw us away when we could have had everything?”

Ford felt his anger truly rising to the surface now, he wanted more than anything to scream and scream and scream. 

“There was never any ‘us’, Bill! It was just you. You and your plans and your wants and your desires and I was just expected to go along with it. You never cared about what I wanted. If you cared you wouldn’t have lied. You never respected me.”

“What is that supposed to mean? I respected you plenty. You think I wouldn’t have chosen you if I didn’t know you were smart and capable?” 

Ford threw up his hands in frustration, “You don’t get it, Bill! You. Don’t. Respect. Me! Someone who respected me would give a shit about whether I actually wanted to go along with your stupid schemes. You didn’t give a shit about if I would follow you willingly. You just wanted your bidding done and you wanted it done now. And so you were willing to butter me up with gifts and partying and all the compliments in the world. God ,” Bill could hear the tears beginning to creep into Ford's voice once more. The horrible slithering feeling of shame was back, flopping around like a beast in his stomach, “I really loved you. And I really thought you loved me. That was the stupidest mistake I ever made.”

Ford watched as Bill's face quickly changed from ashamed to upset to angry as he fumbled for any sort of rebuttal or reply. Instead his sights landed on the plate on the ground. It almost seemed like it happened in slow motion; Bill swooping down, grabbing the plate and smashing it against the wall with an angry yell. Ford could feel that horrible feeling of pity rising in him again.

“You don’t want change, Bill,” Ford whispered, staring at the broken plate on the ground, “You can only get angry in the face of all you’ve done wrong. You don’t want to change and you’re not even lying to me as much as you’re lying to yourself. You want to know how I know? You haven’t even said ‘I’m Sorry’. Not even with a gun to your head could you say it.”
Bill didn’t say anything in response, not even looking at Ford as he spoke. His eyes seemed glued to the plate on the ground; face unreadable.

Ford sighed in defeat. He wished he could make Bill understand and he wished he could understand Bill. This felt more confusing than every riddle he had ever felt put together. The hardest thing of all was this deep desire for Bill to be better, that innate hope that maybe if he was just a bit better, if he just worked on himself a little more, he’d stop hurting people so much. 

Ford didn’t say another word as he left, staring blankly at his shoes the whole way up the elevator. The ride up to the main floor was quiet and felt longer than usual. It felt like time slowed down around him and weighed him down. He found himself wishing at that moment that he had just left Bill in the woods. He wished he had never invited Bill back into his life. 

As Ford made his way back through the house he lingered outside the dining room for a moment when he came back upstairs. The sound of his family jovially chatting over a warm meal warmed his heart but he couldn’t bring himself to rejoin them. No matter how much he would've loved to sit at that table and laugh with his family, he just couldn’t bring himself to step into the kitchen. He knew as soon as he sat down, it would be obvious there was something wrong, and then the questions would start. 

Instead Ford retired to his room early. He wasn’t tired but he couldn’t think of anything to do other than sleep. He didn’t even bother to change out of his clothes, he just tucked himself into bed and stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours before he finally fell into an uneasy and dreamless sleep. 

Ford sequestered himself in his and Stan’s shared room that morning, avoiding the breakfast table for fear that Bill would be sitting there. He didn’t want to risk them coming face to face after last night's fight. He enjoyed his peace until later that morning when Stan flopped himself down on his bed to complain about Mabel's take over of the living room. Ford didn’t really listen though, his nose stuck in a book. 

His whole day passed by much like this, with the occasional visitor coming in to talk at him. Everytime his door opened he could hear the trickle of noise from the living room. His hair stood on end when he heard Bill's voice (mostly complaining about everything he could) and he did his best to tune it all out. Before he knew it he had dissociated through the better part of the afternoon with his growling stomach being the only thing to break him out of his trance.
He steeled himself to go through the living room, knowing full well Bill was still out there. When he finally got up the nerve to leave his room, he was greeted by the sight of Mabel, Pacifica, Dipper and Stan all admiring Mabel's handy work with Bill as their less than enthusiastic model. 

“I have to admit, babe,” Pacifcia said, “we can really make anything look good.”

“Yeah, Mabel, if I ignore his face you can honestly forget that it’s even Bill wearing the outfit. You really can make anyone look good,” Dipper agreed.

“Hell yeah I can!” Mabel bounced up and down in victory, exchanging high fives with her brother and her girlfriend. 

Ford could tell from here that Bill was seething. A large fake smile was plastered over his face but his eyes were blank, glazed over and twitching just a bit. The sight was almost a little amusing. He also had to admit that Mabel's handiwork was impeccable. She was a very gifted tailor and seamstress. She had found a comfortable yellow fabric with an eyeball pattern to make Bill a button up shirt and a simple black fabric to create his pants. She truly did have an eye for fashion and at this moment Ford couldn’t help but hate her for it. Even he could admit that Bill looked incredible. The clothes were tailored to fit him perfectly, hide his worst features and accentuate his best. They catered to a style that fit him and complimented his skin tone, eye and hair color all at once. Why couldn’t Mabel just tossed him a shirt from the gift shop? She had even taken the time to comb his hair, which had been a wild mess when Ford and Dipper had found him. 

Ford must have been staring rather intensely because as soon as Bill noticed him on the other side of the room he cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head inquisitively.

“Your work is amazing as always, Mabel. You have a gift,” Ford said, ignoring Bill's gaze. 

“I know!” was Mabel's chipper reply. 

“I’m so glad you like it, Sixer.” Bill chimed in, his eyes narrowed to slits.
Ford was about to reply and give in to Bill's obvious attempts to goad him into another spat when Dipper cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a low ‘Boooo’. Mabel joined in and before he knew it Pacifcia and Stanley had joined in. 

He could get used to this.

Ford laughed, watching as Bill threw up his hands in frustration. 

“Alright that’s enough out of you four,” Ford said, affectionately tussling his niece and nephews hair, “I’m going to see about dinner.” 

Ford had one foot in the kitchen when he heard Bill call out behind him.

“Stanford, wait!”

Ford slowly turned, crossing his arms and giving Bill a ‘I’m waiting’ look. Bill flushed when he realized everyone's attention was now very focused on him. It didn’t stop him from continuing however. 

“I just wanted to say…I…am sorry.”

Ford stood there in shock for a moment. Out of all the things he expected Bill to say it was most certainly not that. Not so soon, not ever if he was being honest. He didn’t know how to respond. 

Could he really forgive Bill?

No, of course not. But for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to not forgive Bill either. It felt like no matter what he said he would be saying it wrong. After several drawn out moments of silence he decided there was nothing good he could say. He gave Bill one last pitying look before he turned heel and left.

Chapter Text

“Harsh.”

“I don’t really know what you expected to be honest”

“God, Mabel I really feel like I’m watching your uncle's sad ex try to get back with him.”

“I think that’s exactly what's happening, babe.”

Bill heard them all talking but he couldn't connect voice to whoever was speaking, he could barely pay attention to what was being said. All he could focus on was the spot where Ford had once been. What did he even want from him? What would be good enough to make all the awful tension end? He didn’t want to think about the answer he feared most. 

Nothing. Nothing would be good enough. 

“Ford, what do you plan to do once our deal is complete?”

Ford looked up from the game of chess Bill and he had been in the middle of, surprised at the question. 

“Well, what do you mean?”
“I mean, once we have both gotten what we want out of each other, I’m sure you’ll want to part ways. Share your newfound knowledge with the world?” 

Ford’s eyebrows furrowed as he thought about this, quietly moving a piece on the board.

“Well, if you would have me, I’d like to think that our bond goes beyond deals and contracts. I’ve confided things in you that I’ve never told anyone. I’ve experienced things with you that I never have with anyone else. And I didn’t do or tell you those things because of some handshake. Though I’m sure out of the many, many humans you’ve met in your lifetime I’m nothing special.”

Now it was Bill's turn to take a thoughtful pause, “Trust me, Sixer, you’re not like any human I’ve met before,” He chuckled softly, using his turn to take Ford’s knight.

Ford beamed proudly at this like a schoolboy being praised for his good marks. 

“I’m honored you think so, Bill, though I have to say,” Ford moved his piece to take Bill's king, “Checkmate.” 

The next several days passed by for Bill in a haze. He woke up, ate breakfast alone in his room and then spent his days busying himself with whatever ‘lessons’ Mabel had elected for that day. She had taught him everything she could on ‘human-ing’ from basic care to social expectations to which outfit went with which occasion. She even taught him a few basic recipes so he could feed himself. The only thing she had forced him to figure out himself was the shower. It had been a truly hellish experience. He thought humans would have to be crazy to willingly get in a cold porcelain prison and stand under a torrent of hot rain and lather themselves in chemicals that stung their eyes and didn’t even taste good. By the time night came around he usually just crawled into bed without dinner and fell into a dark and dreamless sleep. 

Ford had not talked to him since the apology and Bill couldn’t help but wonder what Ford was doing to keep himself so busy and far away from him. He saw people who didn’t even live in the house more often than he saw Ford. He wished more than anything he could fix things. Or at the very least make things less awkward. Everyone had sort of gotten used to him being around. It wasn’t like they were going out of their way to be nice to him or anything but conversations no longer stopped when he entered a room. Now people mostly just ignored him which was honestly preferable. 

He had to admit that this was at the very least not as bad as the Theraprism. Nobody liked him here and he had so little control over anything and every day was 10x harder than when he’d been a god, but at least here he got to keep a clear mind and eat good food and nobody was constantly prodding him for his every thought (well, except for Mabel but he had come to accept that she was just nosy). He wouldn’t call himself happy by any means, he slept on the floor and had to wear bells on his wrists and every day was a constant reminder of all the things he no longer got to have. But it wasn’t the Theraprism. As the days went on the thought of wishing he had died slowly faded away to the back of his mind.

That was until nearly two weeks into his stay with the Pines family. 

He woke up that morning to a cup of water being thrown in his face. He coughed and sputtered, sitting bolt upright. Standing above him was Stanley Pines, now-empty cup in hand. 

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty.”

Bill grumbled and pulled himself up from the floor, pulling his wet shirt over his head. 

“Stanley. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Bill said, making no effort to hide his sarcasm. 

“Well, Mabel has been showing you all the easy parts of a human's day to day life. But if you’re going to be under my roof, you need to pull your own. So you’re going to be helping me out with some chores today.”

Bill scowled, wiping his face off with his sleeve, “Oh great. I can’t wait.”

“Great. Let's get to work.”

Standing in an empty and dark gift shop, Bill realized that the sun had not yet come up. He squinted at the darkness outside.

“What time is it?” Bill asked.

“Around five o clock,” Stan said, checking his watch.

“Is that early?”

Stan gave Bill an odd look, “I mean, technically yes. But, eh, time is relative.”

Bill nodded, following behind Stan as the older man led him deeper into the house. They stopped in the kitchen where Stan yanked a trash bag from under the sink, dangling it in front of Bill. Bill eyed it with apprehension.

“Alright. Task number one! Today is trash day, there’s a trash can here, in the gift shop, in the bathroom, and in all three of the bedrooms. It’s your job to collect all the trash from the cans into this bag,” Stan said, passing the bag over, “And take the trash out to the dumpster so it can be collected.”

“Great,” Bill grumbled, taking the plastic bag.

“And one last thing, everyone locks their doors at night so you will have to knock and wake everyone up to collect their trash.”

“Can’t we just wait?”

“Nope! Get to work!”

Bill sighed, rolled his eyes and got to work.

Bill very quickly realized why this task was assigned to him. It was gross and smelly and rather difficult. The trash in the kitchen, gift shop, and bathroom somehow all managed to smell differently and every time he dropped trash on the ground he was expected to pick it up. The whole time Stan just followed him around, looming over him like a drill sergeant. At least when Mabel gave him tasks to do she coached him through it, she did it alongside him when he needed a visual demonstration. Mabel was an instructor and Stan was a commander. 

The worst part was the bedrooms. Most people gave him dirty looks for his early morning disturbance. Dipper just dropped the trash can at his feet, Melody gave both him and Stan a stern talk about banging on peoples doors so early and Ford…well…

Bill had elected to knock on his door last, and was surprised when he got an alert and coherent response from the other side. 

“Who is it?”

“Um, garbage collection?” came Bill's soft reply.

There was a few seconds of quiet scuffling before the door unlocked and swung open. Seeing his chance Bill opened his mouth to say literally anything to make things better between them but before he could even take in a breath, Ford had shoved the garbage can into his arms and slammed the door. Bill just sighed in defeat and added the trash to his bag. 

Stan watched Bill drag the trash to the dumpster from the porch and when he returned he clapped him on the shoulder, causing Bill to squirm away from his touch. 

“That wasn’t so bad was it? Now go wash up, you’re making breakfast.”

Bill struggled his way through eggs and bacon. Most of the bacon was burnt and it wasn’t until Mabel came downstairs and pointed out there were eggshells in the eggs that he even realized that eggshells were supposed to be thrown away. So his first batch was thrown away and Mabel had to teach him how to properly crack an egg. He personally thought that it was far easier to just drop the eggs in the pan and start smashing but what did he know. Breakfast was barely passable, but he didn’t even have time to enjoy it before he was dragged back down to the basement to deep clean his new ‘bedroom’. Stan leaned against the wall and barked orders as Bill carried box after box (all labeled ‘creepy Bill stuff’) out to the dumpster. He knew full well that this was likely all of the memorabilia with his face plastered on it that Ford had kept up in his office. Bill had never told him that the real reason he had asked Ford to put them up was to keep a watchful eye on him. He couldn’t even remember what lie he had told to get him to put them up in the first place. He was curious what would make someone keep a hold of all this stuff for 10 years. Bill thought Ford hated him, wouldn’t it make more sense to burn it all to the ground? Perhaps he hated Bill so much that he couldn’t even deal with all these items, maybe he had left them to rot so he’d never have to think about them again.

He swept and dusted every surface possible before giving a good scrub down. By the time he was finished the room looked great, but Bill was ready to collapse. He was starving and at a level of exhaustion he had only felt when possessing Ford and Dipper. But one look at Stan’s face and he knew that man had no intention of letting him rest any time soon. 

He led Bill outside where an audience was already waiting. Dipper, Mabel and Pacifica all crowded on the couch on the porch. 

“Thanks for breakfast, Bill.” they called out as he passed. 

Bill just rolled his eyes, not thinking for a second that perhaps they were being genuine. Stanley led Bill to a large stump in front of the house with an ax sticking out of it. Bill gave him a questioning look, folding his arms over his chest.

“Last task and then I’ll let you go. We’re just going to chop some firewood,” Stanford picked up a log from a pile next to the stump, “Now pick up the ax.”

Bill hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was some kind of trick.

“Go on.”

Bill wrenched the ax from the wood and watched as Stan set the log on the stump.

“Now swing.” 

Bill raised the ax over his head and brought it down on the log, groaning in disappointment as the ax stuck in halfway through. 

“Come on, you have to swing a little harder than that!” Stan laughed.

“Just pretend it’s a broom!” Mabel called from the porch, causing everyone to laugh.

Bill felt all his anger over that day bubbling up to the surface. It just wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t far. His face contorted as he lifted the ax high and brought it down hard. The log was fully split in two and yet he couldn’t even feel accomplished with the melodic laughter of the bells around his wrist mocking him. 

“Looks like you can do something right after all. Seems we just need to give you chores that help get out all those pent up issues.”

Bill huffed, twisting the ax in his hands.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit stupid to give the guy you hate an ax and start insulting him?”

Stan let out a loud, genuine laugh, “Oh, I’m not scared of you.”

Bill huffed, tightening his grip on the ax, “Why not?”

“You want to find out? Come on, show me what you got.”

Bill hesitated, this felt too like a trap but a part of him wanted to prove just how terrifying he could be. He didn’t need to kill Stanley. But if he hurt him bad enough maybe then he’d understand. Bill was more powerful than any of them. He just needed to prove it. Then they would respect him like he deserved.

Bill charged forward with the ax. Right before he swung down, Stan quickly stepped to the side. Bill's slow reaction kept his body moving forward, causing his legs to come out from under him, that’s when Stanley grabbed ahold of the ax and yanked him backwards. As Bill landed on his ass he could feel the ax being torn from his grasp still sitting there trying to figure out what had just happened when Stan grabbed the front of his shirt. 

“You aren’t putting up much of a fight, Bill.”

Bill balled up his fists, he could hear the jeering and laughing from the porch. In those few seconds while Stan dragged him off his feet, Bill made himself a promise. He had to win. He couldn’t let himself get humiliated again. He had to prove that he could still do something right, just one thing. 

In the time where Stanley had his guard down, turning his focus to pull Bill off his feet, Bill took his chance. He pulled his fist back and swung. A wave of shock went through him when he realized his fist had successfully made contact with Stanley's cheek. But it was nothing in comparison to the shock of those around him. A chorus of loud gasps rang out from the audience on the porch. Stanley was knocked back from the blow and dropped Bill back into the dirt but Bill scrambled back to his feet in an instant.

Neither man held back in their fight. Each held 10 years of begrudging hate for each other in their very core. This was more than a fight to win, this was a fight to get out every feeling of distrust and anger and hate. 

It wasn't long before Bill realized his skills were outmatched. Of course they were, Stan had years of experience boxing against professionals. and all Bill had was the instincts of a rabid animal that had been backed into a corner by a much larger predator. He wanted to win- no he *needed* to win. Bill needed to prove to these people he wasn't someone to pick on, he wasn't their jester. even if winning took everything out of him he wanted them to just once look at him with something other than mockery or pity.

Throughout the next 10 minutes Bill tried to convince himself he still had more fight in him, despite blow after blow knocking more than the wind out of him Bill had refused to go down. Continuously getting back up again, even now after yet another hit left him barely able to stand he scrambled to his feet. Every part of his body begged him to stop; to accept defeat and give it rest, but his mind refused to let him. He thought about the day that he had died. the finishing blow Stanley had put on him that day; was he really going to let him do it again? Bill shook his head and tried to push through the painful haze to think about his next move, but before he could put his fist into motion Stanley had landed another blow. this one like the ones before it landed him on his ass, but this time Bill couldn't get back up. He stared at the sky, looking at how the trees bent inwards towards him like a crowd. Bill couldn't do anything but close his eyes. Was this his life now? Getting beat down over and over again with no one there to help or even care?

As Bill mourned his untouchable past, he felt an arm wrap around him and pull him to his feet. He blinked and found Stanley helping him across the grass.

“What are you...” Bill mumbled.

“Come on, Bill, let's get you fixed up.” 

Stanley sat Bill down at the kitchen table and began rifling through the freezer. 

“I’m honestly surprised you held your own so well,” It was almost a compliment, “You just kept coming back. I mean this one is going to smart for a few weeks,” Stan said, pointing to the newly formed bruise on his cheek. 

Bill just kind of nodded, confused and not particularly reassured. Stan had a few bruises on him yes but Bill was bleeding from his nose and his lip. He had a black eye and a gash on his forehead, not to mention his knuckles which were swollen and raw. He felt like he barely made it through that fight. 

Stan handed him a bag of frozen peas before going rummaging through the cabinets. Bill just stared at it dumbly until Stan called out “put it over your eye!”

Bill placed the frozen peas over his bruised eye, watching as Stan set down a first aid kit on the counter. He couldn’t help but stare at the other man as he placed things out on the table. He felt like he saw Stan differently now. Like he was a real person. 

“Why are you helping me?” Bill asked as Stan dabbed his wounds with disinfectant.
Stan thought carefully, “How’d you feel, lyin’ on the ground after you'd lost?”
“Like for the rest of my life all I was going to do is get knocked down. Like I was a failure.”

“And how do you feel now?”

“Confused. You helped me even though you had nothing to gain. Even though we had just fought. I don't understand. Why didn’t you just leave me on the ground?”

“Well, you do the strangest thing, where you act like people are beneath you. You repeat in your head that nothing and nobody matters. Nothing's real and everything is impermanent. But as soon as it’s obvious that you are the other, that you’re being left out…well you get this look in your eyes. I’ve never seen anyone look so sad and angry all at once. Like all that stuff you’ve been telling yourself about how you don’t care and nothing matters is just another lie.” As Stan talked, he took time to administer first aid on Bill's injuries, “But you know, my brother told me the darndest thing. He thinks you're here because there's nowhere else in the universe you belong. Whether any of us like it or not we’re the closest thing to family you have.”

Bill's cheeks grew hot.

“Stanford told you that?”

“Yeah, my brother and his crazy theories right? But you got an ego like nobody has ever seen. Mabel noticed it first. She thought she’d cut you down to size with a little public embarrassment, humanize you a little bit by teaching you how to just be normal. But I don’t really think that's enough. Don’t get me wrong I’ve seen you start to fall into the rhythm of things over the weeks. But you needed to learn something; this world is going to cut you down and beat you into the dirt over and over again. You don’t matter anymore. In the grand scheme of things you’re just a speck. You’re nothing.”

Bill sighed, Mabel had told him the same thing and it was just as hard hearing it the second time. He didn’t understand why he needed those words to not be true. Why he needed it to be a lie more than anything. 

“ But, if you learn a little respect and humility, you’ll realize that there are people around you who want to help you back up when you’ve landed ass first in the dirt. And while you might not matter in the grand scheme of the universe, you’ll matter to them. That’s what family is, it’s the people who will help you up even if it benefits them in no way at all, even if they’re the ones who put you down in the first place. I really hope one day you learn that.”

Bill didn’t respond, he didn’t really know how to. He didn’t understand the point of family for the longest time. When he could do everything himself with very little need for outside assistance. But now he was just a person, with so little influence on the world. He knew nothing and nobody. All he had were the people in front of him. Bill didn’t know what was waiting for him at the end but he didn’t need to worry about that right now. But what he did know was that he needed to focus on the problems sitting right in front of him. If he didn’t fix his relationship with the Pines family, or at the very least pretend to, then he would be completely alone all over again. Another family eaten by time.

“Now come on,” Stanley said, hoisting him up by his forearm, “Help me start on dinner.”

That night, Bill ate at the table with everyone else. He realized as he sat there with the hustle and bustle going on all around him that he had never been to a family dinner before. It felt obvious to him in the grand scheme of things. When has he ever had a real family to have dinner with anyways? 

Stanford was at dinner and for the whole time he wouldn’t even look at Bill. He seemed so content in just ignoring him that for the whole dinner Bill felt so invisible. He couldn’t help but stare at Ford all through the meal. He wished that just once he would look at him. He never did. 

As dinner was wrapping up and the plates were being cleared, Bill felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Stan with a twelve pack in hand. 

“Wanna drink?”

God yes. Thought Bill. He had almost forgotten about alcohol and how much more fun it was to get drunk in a human body. He smiled, and for once it was a genuine one of pure excitement.

“I’d love to.”

Stan and Bill sat on the porch and split the pack of beers between them. Stanford sipped slowly, watching with mild amusement as Bill guzzled the first one down at lightning speed. 

“When’s the last time you’ve had a drink?” Stan asked.

“Ten years.” Bill replied.

“Yeesh. I can’t imagine going that long without a drink.” 

Stanley handed him a second can and Bill happily drank it down with just as much speed as the first. 

By the time the second drink was finished, Bill was obviously tipsy. He could feel his face growing hot and found it harder and harder to string together words. That didn’t stop him from taking a third beer and then accepting a fourth. He was going for self-destruction. He wanted to forget everything and everyone and just feel some bliss for one second. By the time he made his way to the bottom of the fourth he was drunk but not enough to truly interfere with his coherent thought. So he happily accepted the fifth and sixth beer from the pack. Stanley just watched, he recognized a self destructive bender anywhere and felt a little guilt as he passed him his seventh drink. But he just had to know what was really going on in that demon's mind.  

Once Bill had confidently downed four more beers, Stan set down his drink, he had barely touched it. He prayed that now Bill was drunk enough to finally be honest with him. He felt bad using underhanded tactics but…not that bad. 

“Can I ask you something, Bill?”

“Mhmm,” came Bill’s only reply.

“Where have you been all this time? Where does a hot shot like you go when he dies?”

“I didn’t die. I made a deal. Stupid shady deal. And that damn…fish with legs sent me to hospital.”

Stan raised an eyebrow, wondering how exactly a fish with legs was relevant to this story. Maybe he really did go overboard with the alcohol. 

“A hospital? For what?”

“For my head. They said they wanted to help me. To fix me. But they only cared about silencing me.”

“I didn’t know they had hospitals for demons.”

“Wish they didn’t…” 

Bill drew his knees up to his chest, staring out into the dark woods. Even in his drunken haze he couldn't escape this pit of sadness inside him. It was as if the alcohol had stripped away all of the anger he usually felt and laid bare what was hiding underneath, pain and regrets and fear. So many things that he’d rather not think about and nothing made it better. 

“Why are you here?” Stan asked, lighting up a cigar. 

“A test.”

“A test?”

“To prove I can change. To stop being in denial. I don’t even know what that stupid river has to do with anything! Stupid Axolotl…told me I have to change. Everyone wants me to fix myself but I don’t know what's wrong with me!! I’ve always been this way!” Bill buried his head in his hands, groaning softly.

“So you didn’t even want to come here?”

“No. But now that I’m here I never ever want to go back. God Sixer was right about me! This is the only family I have! My only hope…be good enough so he finally takes me away,” Bill gestured with his hands as he talked, only slightly distracted by the bells. “I’m so, so alone. Nobody gives me credit. Don't you know it’s hard for me? So hard, trying so very hard” 

Stan couldn’t help but feel bad. When all of the infinite power and intergalactic wars were stripped away, Bill was just another guy. A shifty con artist with no family and no home. Just like how he had been at one point. Bill was broken with some past he refused to think about and something wrong with his head that he couldn’t quite place. When he thought about it, Bill fit right in with their little amalgamation of a family. Everyone here was bleeding from wounds they didn’t want to think about and fighting battles in their heads that they didn’t understand. It was here and then where Stan saw the softer side of Bill. Here he saw his brother's old partner and not the thing that tried to end the world. 

“Speaking of good ol 'six fingers,” Stan took a breath, unsure of how to ask the question or if it should even be asked, “how do you feel about him?”

“I dunno. He’s the only person who makes me feel normal. I wish sometimes that I could erase his memory of me and I’d walk up to him and introduce myself and he’d ask if he could call me Bill and I’d say…’you can call me anything except late to dinner’. And he’d laugh at my jokes again and we’d be friends and everything would be fine.”

Bill let out a shuddering breath, running his hands over his face. He could feel that god-awful beast clawing at his throat again, eyes burning so harshly he wondered what was wrong with him. Everything hurt inside him when he talked about Ford. He missed the times when it was so much easier to pretend he didn’t care about Ford. He hated how his body betrayed his emotions now. There wasn’t a single place in the universe he could hide from them anymore. 

 “I wish I could just restart,” he whispered, more of a confession to himself than anyone else 

“Bill…Do you… love my brother?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what it means. Thought love was made up for making evil human spawn. When I was with Sixer I felt understood. I wanted him to pay attention to me all the time,” Bills speech slurred, the sentences he was speaking so barely coherent to himself that he could be speaking another language for all he knew. He just hoped Stanley knew what he meant, “I wanted him to like me and approve of everything I did. I never felt like that before. When I think about how he hates me it makes me hate myself.”

“Yeah that does sound like a pretty hopeless case. You want my advice? Keep your distance, he barely tolerates you being around. I don’t want to see my brother turn into a shut-in again. So, give him his space; Don’t force him to talk to you.”

“What…what do I do?”

“You gotta focus on yourself. Just take it one day at a time.”

“Stanley…do you like me?”

“I certainly don’t hate you, pal. But god you gotta get your shit together.”

“I don’t hate you either.”

As the two sat there in silence Stan heard his name being called from the house. He groaned as he stood up, bones cracking as he stretched. 

“You get some sleep, Bill. You’re really drunk.”

Ford had been sitting at the table waiting when Stanley came inside. He had learned of Stan's plans over dinner and couldn’t help himself but wait nearby, anxiously awaiting results. 

“Well did you learn anything? Any secret plans?”

Stanley just chuckled, shaking his head, “nothing like that. One sad guy, I’ll tell you that. I’ll tell you the rest in the morning, Mabel’s calling me.”

Stan gave his brother a quick finger gun before quickly exiting. Ford cursed himself for letting his brother handle the plan even if it had been Stans in the first place. Didn’t he know how much Ford was yearning for information? He didn’t see how he could possibly wait till morning. 

Then again, Bill was still out there, still very drunk. He could get information himself. He debated with himself for several minutes. It seemed cruel to interrogate bill just to soothe his own anxieties, especially when he was under the influence. But then again Bill had never shown him the same amount of kindness. Why should he care? But at the same time, he didn’t want to stoop to Bill's level. Ford sighed, he knew this was most likely one of the only times he would be able to get Bill to speak to him frankly, and if there was one thing stronger than his moral compass it was his curiosity.

 He let himself outside to find Bill sprawled out on the couch and staring up at the porches awning. Ford sat down on the ground in front of the couch.

“You know, I don’t believe this is the best place to sleep. You’ll get eaten by mosquitos come morning.”

Bill turned his head around, eyebrows raising when he saw Ford as if he just now realized he was here.

“Oh Sixer. I thought you were mad at me.”

“I feel like the situation is more complicated than that.”

”No its not. You hate me.”

Ford sighed, “Don’t be dramatic, Bill.”

“Hey that’s my line.” Bill giggled to himself, remembering old notes from a different time.
“You’re so strange, Bill.”

“You’re strange! Strange and perfect and soooo handsome…”

Ford turned red, unable to resist the urge to roll his eyes, “Oh, Bill.”

“You don’t believe me. You think I’m lying.”

Bill sat up, now directly in front of Ford and looking down at him.

“You’ve used compliments as lies too many times for me to believe it now, Bill.”

Ford got up from his place on the ground and sat on the couch so Bill and him could be face to face. He couldn’t have this conversation feeling so below him like he had so many times before. 

“You don’t know that!” Bill gripped the front of Ford's coat, “Sixer, I know I lied about a lot of things but never like that. I like everything about you. You’re the only thing that feels right. Everything feels meaningless when you’re not around. Don’t you understand?”

Ford understood plenty. He supposed his hunch was correct, Bill had always cared in his own way. His own way was just bad. It was sloppy and messy and always hurtful.

“Please can’t we start over? I’d change anything about myself for you. I’d do it.”

“No, Bill, it’s over.”

This had been a mistake, Bill was barely able to make coherent sense and here Ford was trying to extort information out of him. Now he felt like his chest had been ripped open. He could see the desperation on Bill's face and it made him feel so weak because he remembered a time when he wanted more than anything for Bill to come crawling back to him. Now he didn’t even know what he wanted. 

“Why weren't you ever honest with me, Bill?”

”I don’t know. I didn’t care. Care about you, about anything. Just about freedom. But then I knew you and I had to lie. Every lie meant more lies down the road. More and more lies until I was just a big lie. I didn’t know what to do! If I told you the truth you would have left. I didn’t want to be alone.”

Bill looked up at Ford, and for the first time Ford realized he was on the brink of crying. His eyes were glossy and his lip quivered, he looked like he was making a significant effort to keep the tears from flowing. Pity ate at the pit of his stomach. He had never felt so bad for anyone his whole life.

“Kiss me.” Bill said as they stared at each other.

”What?” Ford was completely taken aback, grabbing Bill's hands and removing their white-knuckled grip from his jacket.

”Please, nobody has to know. You can go back to hating me tomorrow. I just need to feel something for one second. Please, Ford, Please.”

”Bill, you’re drunk.” 

“Please, I know you still care too. You would have killed me if you hated me for real. You missed me too. Some part of you craves what we had too. Don’t you?”

“No…Of course not,” Ford lied.

“Just one kiss, please…please Ford.” 

Ford sat there in silence unsure of what to do. He didn’t have a chance to decide however as Bill pushed him away and leapt to his feet. Ford was confused as to what had made the other man change his mind until he heard a soft ‘gonna be sick’. Bill dropped to his hands and knees and hurled off the side of the porch. 

Ford just sighed in relief, if Bill hadn’t gotten sick….he might have just kissed him. 

Chapter Text

Bill woke up the next morning with a splitting pain in his head. He couldn’t remember much of last night. Just blurry snapshots that barely made sense to him. He almost regretted drinking that much, but then he turned his head and saw Stanford lying on the ground next to him, fast asleep. Suddenly his headache was a gift from some higher forces. 

Ford lay with his jacket pulled over him like a blanket, glasses askew on his face. Bill just lay there in the silence of his room and just stared, committing this moment to memory. He knew that as soon as Ford woke up he would pretend to be asleep to avoid the crippling awkwardness that plagued their every interaction. Awkwardness that Bill was sure was only amplified by whatever had occurred last night to result in ford sleeping on the floor by his side. He had no memory of ever interacting with Ford last night. Just beer after beer after beer and then nothing. A total black hole in his mind where his memories should be. And the more he tried to remember the more his head throbbed. 

He almost wanted to shake Stanford awake and demand answers, demand to know why he was lying here when he had made it so clear that he hated him. But he knew if the answer was something he didn’t like, he’d feel even worse off in the end. Wondering about it was killing him but he had a feeling that knowing would be even worse. 

It wasn’t long before Ford began to stir. Bill quickly assumed a sleeping position, hoping it was convincing enough. While he couldn’t see anything, he could hear the shifting of fabric as Ford woke up and then it was quiet. There was no sound of Ford standing or his footsteps in a stealthy walk of shame. Just complete silence. 

As Bill laid there he felt the most strange sensation, a soft pressure on his shoulder. It was so unexpected that the feeling almost felt alien and threatening until it clicked in his mind what the feeling was. It was Ford’s hand on his shoulder. And it wasn’t grabbing him or shaking him or hurting him in any way, it was just there. His thumb moved in slow circles and despite the fact that this small show of affection was all he had wished for for the past week- no, the last ten years- he couldn’t help the confusion that overtook him. 

But before he could pretend to wake up and confront him, the hand was gone. Bill listened to the sound of retreating footsteps with a heavy heart and it wasn’t until he heard the sound of the elevator making its assent that he finally dared to move his hand over the spot where Ford’s touch once was.

By the time Bill got the energy to slither his way out of bed, the gift shop right outside his door was bustling. That morning, Bill hated the Mystery Shack and all it stood for. He used to find it amusing, a shrine that almost exclusively existed to make a mockery of a lifetime of scientific research. There was a time when he bitterly enjoyed watching Stanford's creations and discoveries be misrepresented and morphed and turned into keychains for slack jawed loons to pay exorbitant amounts of money for. But now that he was hungover, he saw this tourist trap for what it really was, a noise machine harboring a million mouths with the extra horrible bonuses of cheap fluorescent lighting and weird smells that threatened to make him hurl. He slinked from the entrance to the basement to the sweet sanctuary that was the rest of the house with his hands over his ears, not even caring about the weird looks this got him. 

Once he was finally in the quiet serenity of the rest of the house, Bill could finally think straightly about the reason he had even risked coming up here in the first place. Food. His stomach grumbled in agreement and he stumbled his way to the kitchen. He could hear the sounds of a lively conversation and it made his headache worse before he even stepped over the threshold. He almost considered turning back but his stomach growled demanding something, anything to fill it so Bill forced his legs to move. 

The conversation died when Bill stepped in and for once he didn’t care. He was already head first in the fridge, scavenging like a raccoon. 

“Good morning, Bill!” Mabel called out. 

Oh my god was she always this loud?? Bill just grumbled in response as he debated eating shredded cheese by the handful. 

“Uh, Mabel sweetie, maybe leave Bill alone. He had a lot to drink last night,” came Stan's voice from behind him.

Bill was barely listening, giving into the urges and shoveling the cheese into his mouth. It wasn’t until he satisfied his urge that he finally turned around. 

“How much?” Bill mumbled, mouth still partially full of cheese.

He got a collective look of confusion from Mabel, Stan and Dipper. He just rolled his eyes and swallowed what was in his mouth. 

“How much did I drink last night?” He repeated with a bit of exasperation, “I don’t remember.”

Mabel gave her grunkle a scrutinizing look, “Grunkle Stan, I thought you said you weren’t going to drink like that anymore ever since you fell off the roof.” 

“Yeah, you won’t drink with me but you’ll drink with Bill ?” Dipper added, causing Mabel to reach over and smack the brim of his hat.  

“Hey! I wasn’t even drunk! It was Bill who did most of the drinking.”

Now two pairs of accusatory eyes turned to Bill, who stared blankly right on back.

”Bill, you shouldn’t be drinking a lot. I don’t know what the alcohol sitch was up in your freaky spooky dimension but here alcohol is really harmful to the human body.”

Bill rolled his eyes, “Shooting star you should have seen the shit I got up to back in my hay day. I drank fear once. I once got so drunk I closed down a Burrito Paradox for a month! They never did get the blood out of that Mountain Dew machine…” Bill chuckled softly, “Man I once mixed a time drink so strong that me and Sixer-“

Bill stopped himself, face falling flat as he remembered that night. The karaoke and drink after drink. He wondered if Ford regretted the night of partying and debauchery that had followed after. Bill had thought about that night a lot. 

Bill cleared his throat, shoving the cheese back into the fridge, “Actually, that’s not important. My point is that I’m no stranger to drunken mistakes and a few beers is nothing in comparison to billions of years of partying it up in my Nightmare Dimension.”

“It was eleven,” grumbled Stan.

”What?” 

“You drank eleven beers. Probably in under an hour too. You told me you had been sent here by a fish with legs.”

Bill was slack jawed, “How much else did I tell you?”

”You don’t want to know.”

Stanley was probably right about that but there was still that ever growing itch of curiosity he longed to scratch. He didn’t get a chance to question further, however, as Mabel folded her arms over her chest and gave both Stan and Bill a glare.

“Bill, you look terrible. You should not go around drinking that much! God I guess I should have added alcoholism to your human lessons cuz clearly you need a crash course,” She gestured with her hands as she spoke. “Today was supposed to be the last of your human lessons and here you are, barely able to stand and eating cheese out of the bag!”

”Wait, you’re telling me there’s an end to those?”

”Of course! Did you think I was going to coach you all summer? I have other things to do!”

Bill took a moment to process before a huge smile broke out on his face.

”Wait so I’ll be done with all the lessons? No more of them ever again.” 

“Yeah but now you gotta take care of yourself. I’m not going to stand with you while you brush your teeth anymore.”

”And you have to help out around the house, same as everyone else,” Stan added sternly.

”But you still have one final lesson. I’m feeling nice so you can take today as a rest day and tomorrow will be your,” Mabel tossed glitter into the air, imitating fanfare, “human graduation!” 

Bill felt so happy his hangover was almost forgotten. This silly little ceremony would give him a title he never thought he would ever want; same as everyone else. And, for once, ‘same as everyone else’ didn’t feel like a death sentence or a punishment. This time it was actually a step up for him. No longer would he be ‘worse than everyone else’. If Mabel was really ready for him to ‘graduate’ than surely he was doing something correct, right?

“When?” Bill asked excitedly.

”Well it was supposed to be today. I had a whole plan and everything but clearly we need to postpone it. You need some time to recover.”

”No!” Bill paused, his voice too loud for his own hangover, “No, we can do it today. I’m great. I promise. Just give me an hour and we can do it.”

The whole table gave him a skeptical look. 

“You look like the walking dead,” Dipper stated factually.

”Yeah, you look like you need a bag check for those eyes,” Stan said, laughing at his own joke.

Bill just rolled his eyes, chuckling sarcastically, “Just give me um…” he counted on his fingers trying to calculate the amount of time it would take for him to get ready, “…thirty minutes? And I’ll be good as new and ready for our final lesson.”

Bill was already bounding out of the room when Mabel called after him “Okay, Bill but if you’re not up for it you can let me know!”

Bill ignored her, rushing across the house to shower. 

By the time Bill returned to the main part of the house, feeling slightly less like he was going to puke, a group had gathered in the living room. Nine chairs had been set up in an arch like auditorium seating for a stage play. Wendy, Robbie, Gideon, Soos, Pacifica, Fiddleford, Stan, Dipper, and Mabel all sat in waiting. Above them hung a large banner that read ‘Bills Human Initiation’.

Bills gut tied into anxious knots, the air in the room wasn’t as joyful as it usually was when everyone got together. It was tense and nervous with hardly any chatter and when Bill stepped into the room everything went quiet. He was already cursing himself for not letting Mabel postpone when she stood up and cleared her throat.

”Welcome, Bill, to your human initiation.” Her voice was serious like a funeral director’s, “today you must prove to everyone here that you have learned to set your ego aside and that you have learned the value of true relationships built on trust.” Bill resisted an eye roll as Mabel directed him to stand in front of the group as she continued, “For that reason you will be giving us all a real genuine apology and accepting the answer no matter what it may be.”

Bill gulped, he had gone over what Mabel’s final lesson could possibly be in his head several times and for some reason this had never once occurred to him. He was really kicking himself for not waiting now. To give all these people apologies after last night’s bender when he wasn’t even sure that he even cared to apologize to half these people at all sounded like pure hell. But then again he could always just fake it. He was great with words, wasn’t he? He would have once described one of his powers as charisma but around the people who distrusted him most those powers seemed to fall flat. Surely, he could muster up a few good enough apologies to be left alone forever then that would be it. No more poking and prodding. Perhaps with everyone's attention off of him, he’d actually be able to find a way out of this hell hole.

“Okay…where should I start?” Bill nervously rocked back and forth on his feet, keeping his eyes on anything but the panel of judges. 

“Going down the line, starting with Wendy is fine,” Mabel responded. 

Bill nodded, turning to the redhead. Wendy stared up at him with a bemused smile, she leaned back in her chair, one leg propped on top of the other. Bill thought she couldn’t have looked any more relaxed if she tried. But as Bill stared at her, trying to formulate an apology, he watched the way her hands flexed and unflexed, how they wrestled with each other like she was holding every bit of tension in those two appendages. 

Bill didn’t know a lot about Wendy. He had only really known about her from his intrusions into Pinetree’s mind and the occasional glimpse into the dreams of those who were supposed to “witness his demise”. He found himself at a loss for any words that could be meaningful enough to make a half decent apology. 

“Wendy,” he finally started, “I want to apologize for unleashing untold horrors on you, your family and your town. I apologize for any other wounds you may be suffering due to my actions that I am unaware of.”

Bill let out a tense breath, heart hammering in his ears as he awaited judgment.

“We’re all cool, dude.” Wendy said, holding out her hand. 

He hesitated. Was a handshake really appropriate in this situation? For him of all people? Would it be more wrong to accept or decline the gesture? He glanced at Mabel for some sign of direction but she gave him none. He decided it would probably be rude to decline the handshake and shook Wendy’s hand before moving down the line. 

His apologies to Robbie, Gideon, Soos and Pacifica felt like repackaged versions of the first apology, a hand-me-down of well hidden insincerity. He didn’t know these people and had already forgotten their backstories and character arcs a decade ago. He found it easier and easier to fake his way through each apology the further he got down the line and even easier to accept whatever reactions he got. He didn't care whether he got acceptance or righteous indignation. He didn’t even mind the hug from Soos. Each response just meant he was a little bit closer to being done with it all. 

That was until he got to Fiddleford. He just stood there for a second completely speechless. Face to face with this man, his mind was completely devoid of lies. To Bill, the inventor was nothing but an effigy for years worth of envy and hatred. He was the perfect scapegoat for Bill and Ford’s relationship ending. If he had never come along, never glimpsed what was on the other side of the portal… 

Not to mention that Fiddleford had always seemed like the third wheel. The home wrecker coming to force Ford and Bill apart and ruin everything Bill had worked so hard for. Bill saw how easily McGucket and Stanford connected and bonded. He hated how Fiddleford got everything that Bill had to lie and cheat to get. 

But beneath all that was the ever growing guilt and shame that ate away at his stomach. He used to only ever feel remorse for his wrong doings to Ford, but slowly every day he would look at more and more people and realize that the guilt was there too. The closer he got the guiltier he felt, he feared that soon enough this guilt would swallow him whole. 

He felt guilt for the collapse of Fiddleford's mind. Felt bad that he was the one who caused it. He felt bad that he had ruined the relationship between Stanford and McGucket. There had been a time when Bill jealously peaked into all the potential futures to assess the likelihood of Fiddleford coming between them and he knew; there were millions of timelines where Ford was happy with McGucket . Where they completed their research and made millions, where they settled into a quiet life in the woods, ones where they had a lifetime of adventure. But in every timeline where they split up and separated? Bill had been there quietly pulling the strings. He had felt vindicated at the time knowing that as long as he was there the two would never get together but now that didn’t feel as great. Right now, standing in front of Fiddleford he felt like garbage. A mangled beast made of hate and jealousy. 

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He couldn’t think of a single convincing lie. Before he knew what was happening, his mouth was moving on its own and words were coming out like sickening vomit.

“Fiddleford…I don’t know how to apologize to you without it feeling forced. I know I did a lot to you both directly and inadvertently that ruined your life. I know that you’re still suffering from all the things I did and that you probably will be for life. But I can’t apologize. Not properly. Because every time I look at you all I see is my replacement, the person who took everything away from me.”

Bill cringed at the quiet murmur that reverberated through the room. He just kept his eyes focused on Fiddleford, hoping for some kind of reaction. He got none. A deafening silence filled the room as everyone waited with baited breath to hear what Fiddleford was going to say. After a few terse moments, McGucket stood and shook Bill's hand with both his own.

”I ‘ppreciate yer honesty, Bill. I hope you find whatever it is yer lookin’ for.”

Whatever it is I’m looking for? Bill stared at his hand for a second, trying to wrap his head around what Fiddleford meant by that. What was it that he was looking for?

He didn’t have time to dwell on it too long, however, remembering that he still had three more apologies to get to. Next was Stan, a bundle of confusing emotions of his own. 

Bill had spent the last 10 years throwing mental darts at a metaphorical dart board with Stanley’s face on it. He knew deep down that so many people had a hand in his demise. A domino stack with a one in infinity chance of ending with his death, but the fact that Stanley had been that final domino infuriated him to no end. The fact that the end had come from such a reckless plan, crafted by a man who he so foolishly under-estimated…he had replayed his final moments in his head a million times antagonizing himself, wondering what he could have done differently. But none of that mattered now. None of it could be changed.

”Stanley, I want to apologize to you for all the obvious stuff. For bringing an apocalypse to your town, for everything I did to your brother that ended up affecting you, for hurting every other member of your family, invading your mind on two occasions and for being the reason your mind was erased.” Bill took a deep breath. The farther he went down the line, the longer his list of sins got, “But I also want to apologize for the way I looked at you. I saw you as a one-dimensional con-man desperately searching for even the smallest bit of family because you were so lonely. But now I realize that maybe…I’m the same way. That we’re really the two sides of the same coin. I’m sorry that I underestimated you. I’m sorry that I saw you as nothing more than a fraud. I was wrong.”

Bill realized as he got down the line, his dam of lies slowly started cracking with more and more truth leaking through until a flood of confession was coming out of his mouth like a deadly tsunami. He had never felt something so exposing and cathartic at the same time. Words that would once only echo meekly in the back of his mind now tumbled out of him in front of an audience of unblinking strangers. It reminded him of when Ford had threatened his life. When desperate lies had turned into even more desperate truths. 

“Our fight yesterday made me realize a lot of things. I hope we can move forward with less animosity towards each other, Stan.” 

Stan grinned, leaning back in his chair, “I appreciate your apology, Cipher. You’re not doing too terribly so far.” He clicked his tongue, shooting Bill a finger gun.

Bill gave him a grateful smile, appreciating the simplicity of his response. He wasn’t sure how many more handshakes he could handle. 

Next was Pinetree. He felt no shame in admitting that hatred and distrust between them was still strong. Dipper did not speak to him unless Mabel was there as a buffer, he still felt silent when Bill was in the room, still went through the effort to avoid him as much as possible. He still held close a lesson Bill had painfully taught Ford and Ford had passed down to Dipper. Trust no one. 

And that philosophy had kept a wedge firmly between them all this time. Any progress he had made with everyone else simply did not exist with Dipper. Bill would never admit that it made him antsy and uncomfortable. Everyone else had slowly become numb to his presence that he felt less alien existing in the house. But when Dipper was around he was forced to remember that he was an ‘other’. That he didn’t belong.

”Pinetree. I know you still don’t like or trust me. I know that you’re still expecting me to find a way to ruin everything. I also know that this apology probably won’t mean much to you but I'm going to say it anyway. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for basically personally tormenting you for a whole summer and probably your dreams for many more years after.”

Bill sighed, figuring it was better to keep it short and sweet. Dipper just glared at him for a long moment before tilting his head towards his sister.

”Keep moving, Bill,” was his only response. 

“Fair enough,” Bill scowled, clenching his fists.

Bill moved to the final chair in line, Mabel Pines. He felt almost giddy now. He was almost done. 

If he really truly liked anyone under this roof it was Mabel. Even before the end of the world he had liked her more than the rest of her family. He had believed for so long that she was just like him. A being of pure chaotic energy who did what she pleased when she pleased just for the fun of it. But at every point where she had stood in his way he misunderstood one simple thing; they may have been the same in almost every way but the difference between him and Mabel is that Mabel was truly good. Pure of heart and kind. Things Bill could never be. Now that Bill was human, that still rang true. She could have so easily kicked him to the curb like everyone else but she helped him. Even if she had served him a large slice of humble pie while she gave him that help, Bill couldn’t deny that he didn’t know what he would have done without her help. 

“Mabel, I know I’m supposed to be apologizing but first I just have to say…thank you. I don’t know what would have happened to me if it weren’t for you. I used to think second chances were for children’s cartoons and stupid people but…I really don’t want to make you regret taking a chance on me.” Bill sighed, not knowing if he meant that or not, “So I want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you in the past. For possessing your brother and ruining sock puppets for you, for trapping you in a magic dream bubble, for tricking you, for almost killing you…there’s probably so much more and I hope you know that I am sorry for it all.”

Mabel squealed, leaping up and giving Bill a huge hug that he barely reciprocated. 

“Oh, Bill! Look at you! You’ve come so far!!”

Bill smiled nervously as Mabel pulled away, “So is that it? Did I do it?”

”Well you still have one more apology left,” Mabel said. 

Bill gave her a confused look, had he missed someone? Mabel simply continued to smile and pointed towards the doorway to the living room. Bill followed where she was pointing and felt his heart drop into his gut as he saw Stanford standing there. He all of the sudden lost the ability to speak and Mabel had to nudge him towards the door with a soft whisper of encouragement. He just put one foot in front of the other until he was right in front of Ford. He couldn’t help but wonder if Ford had been standing there the whole time. If he had heard all of his apologies and speeches. If he had heard what he said to McGucket. 

“Hello, Bill,” Ford smiled politely but his eyebrows were furrowed. 

“Hi, Sixer,” Bill chuckled nervously, fiddling with his shirt.

He couldn’t apologize, not again, not in front of everyone. He couldn’t stand the thought of Ford not accepting his apology. He just wanted everything to be okay but when he looked at Ford all he could feel was confusion and pain. His stomach was so knotted with anxiety he felt like he was going to hurl his sorry excuse for a breakfast. He closed his eyes trying to think through the panicked buzzing in his brain but the more he waited the more he realized he was being watched and judged. He wondered how long it took for him to finally speak, to him it felt like hours but it couldn’t have been more than a minute.

“Stanford, we have been through so much in the last forty years that to sum it up in one apology seems impossible. I did a lot of horrible things to you. Someone I claimed to care about. And it’s more than just what I did on a cosmic scale, though I hope you know I’m sorry for that too, it’s also the way I played with our relationship for my own selfish gain. It’s all the lies I told you. I’m sorry, Ford. I’m so sorry. Every time I look at you I can only think of how to fix things. I really want to make things better. I took you for granted and I didn’t realize how much I…I liked you until it was too late,” bills whole body stayed ridged as he spoke, hands clasped in front of him, “I know you don’t know what to believe anymore but please know I mean it when I say, I’m sorry and that I’d do anything in my power to make everything okay again.”

He let out a breath as he finished, realizing that his eyes were burning and that horrible scratching feeling was back in this throat. He finally dared to look Ford in the eyes but his expression was unreadable. 

“Well, Bill, I have to say, this is a good first step. Thank you for your apology.”

Ford held out a hand for Bill to shake. As he did so Bill couldn’t help but notice Ford’s hand was trembling and as he went in to shake it, he realized his was too. The handshake was short and when both men pulled away they couldn’t help but stare at their own hands wondering if something would happen. 

From behind Bill came a loud cheer and he turned around to find Mabel, a barrel of excitement. 

“Ah!!! Bill!! You did it. You passed the final test, I declare you,” Mabel stuck a kazoo in her mouth, throwing glitter all over as she played out a little fanfare, “Officially a human!”

Bill couldn’t help but laugh, two weeks ago he would have raged and fought against that title but now, he was just happy to just be done.

“Thank you, Mabel, I’m sure you’re glad to finally get your free time back.”

“Yeah well I guess it wasn’t all bad, you freak. You’ve made a surprising amount of progress over just two weeks. Maybe by the end of the summer you’ll be kinda normal.”

Bill laughed humorlessly, gritting his teeth. He hated the slight reminder that Mabel's goal was to fix him. He did his best to push back memories of the theraprism.

“Well I have to go thank everyone for helping, you enjoy your new found freedom.”

As Mabel skipped off to go address the rest of the group, Bill looked around for Stanford but he was already gone. He couldn’t feel too disappointed, he had sort of expected him to slip off, but he had wanted to ask him something before he managed to sneak away. Bill just sighed and went for his second best option.

“Stanley,” Bill said, tapping on the other man’s shoulder “Can I speak with you alone for a moment?”

Stan nodded, though his confusion was apparent, and followed Bill out into the hallway by the stairs. 

“Okay, I need you to tell me, what the hell happened last night.”

“You really don’t remember anything?”

“It gets really hazy around the 8th beer and then, boom, nothing.”

Stan scratched his chin, trying to formulate his words. 

“Well, you uh…you got real ‘confess-y’. I guess I was prying a bit but you really laid your feelings bare.”

“How much did I tell you?”

Stan looked nervous, looking everywhere but Bill's face, “Weeeellll, you told me that you’ve been in a hospital this whole time and that an axolotl sent you here to prove that you’re capable of change. And then you spilled all your secrets about Ford and how you feel about him…after that I told you to go to bed”

The longer Stan talked, the redder Bill's face got until he was sure he was going to melt and leak in between the floorboards. 

“Did I tell you anything else? Did I go anywhere? Do anything?”

“Not that I know of. When I came back downstairs you were already gone.”

“So then, what happened with Ford…?” Bill mumbled to himself, instantly peaking Stan’s interest. 

“Wait something happened with, Sixer?”

Bill squirmed uncomfortably, unsure of how much information he should give away in search of answers.

“Yes? No. Maybe? God, I don’t know! When I woke up this morning Ford was…well he was…sleeping on the ground next to me. I’m trying to figure out why. I assume I did something stupid enough to make him feel like he had to guard me. No fires were started last night, were they?”

“Not that I know of. Maybe you were just so drunk he was worried you’d choke on your own tongue.”

Bill frowned, “I don’t think he likes me enough to care.”

“You never know, this is Sixer we’re talking about. He’s a complicated drama queen through and through,” Stan rolled his eyes.

Bill couldn't help but chuckle, though it very quickly trailed off, “it’s killing me, not knowing.”

“I’m sure you’ll bump into him eventually. He can’t hide in the woods forever.”

“Yeah…” Bill sighed, Ford definitely could hide in the woods forever, “well, thanks anyways.”

Bill slumped in defeat as Stan excused himself to rejoin the others. 

“Hey congrats on Mabel’s little graduation thing. It’s obvious you’re trying, if nothing else.”

Stan left before Bill got to say thank you. 

His next encounter was with Mabel who yanked him by the arm into the kitchen after people had begun to filter out. She had a look in her eyes that she only got when she was particularly curious and nosy.

”Bill, I have a question and it’s eating me up inside so please please please don’t lie to me.”

Bill grimaced, worried as to what her question could be, “What is it, shooting star?”

”Listen I know I joke a lot about you being Grunkle Ford's creepy ex but…I guess I’m a little curious, what exactly was the nature of your guys’ relationship?” 

Bill sighed, knowing this question would come eventually from someone, he supposed if he had already spilled the beans to Stan it made no sense to lie to someone he liked far more, “Well, I guess the term ‘exes’ as you have so frequently put it is not entirely inaccurate. Me and Ford did not have a relationship bound by typical human standards. We were partners and we told each other everything, we uh…trusted each other as much as a human and a demon could. In my eyes me and Ford…well we were the same. Two people that nobody ever understood, rare in our creation, smarter than everyone else. And I suppose we did things that most humans would not consider ‘platonic’ but I would have never called us- what’s the term you use? Boyfriends? We were nothing like that. Just partners who didn’t feel the need to hold back on affection.”

Mabel nodded thoughtfully, “Do you still like him that way? Do you want to be partners again?”

”I guess,” Bill shrugged, squirming uncomfortably.

”Awe, Bill I knew there was a big squishy heart under there!”

“Ew. It’s nothing like that. Ford is the only being in the whole universe I’ve ever felt any sort of connection to. I didn’t even realize the connection was there until it was gone.”

”You guys are so tragic and sad. So you guys were all couple-y and then you ruined it by getting all portal crazy and power abusive and scared him off into another dimension and when you were finally reunited you didn’t know how to handle rejection so you tried to bully him into going with you and now that you’ve been through therapy and a horrible amount of humbling you’re crawling back to him because you’re still in love?”

Bill scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I guess. Something like that at least.” 

“I mean it's kinda obvious that Ford is still kinda obsessed with you, so maybe if you actually learn to be normal and not a total freak you’d actually have a shot at being friends.”

Bill raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean it's kinda of obvious? It’s kinda obvious that he hates me.”

”I mean yeahhh,” Mabel said, tilting her hand in a ‘so-so’ motion, “but it’s complicated. He didn’t kill you for one. And he’s always avoiding you, he’s probably scared that you’ll just suck him back into your black hole. I thought you guys were just old friends but it honestly makes more sense that you guys had a weird situationship…”

Bill frowned, feeling rather uncomfortable that Mabel of all people was giving his ‘love’ life so much thought.

”Don’t think about it too hard, shooting star. Ford doesn’t want anything to do with me right now and I’m just…not going to think about that.”

”Don’t give up, Bill! Maybe being friends with Ford again will help in your healing process.”

Bill rolled his eyes, scooting backwards out of the kitchen, “Like I said, don’t think too hard about it.”

Bill busied himself that day with work around the house, partially because he had nothing better to do and partially because he hoped that if he was running from room to room he would end up running into Stanford. It never ended up happening. That night he helped Melody cook and was very disappointed when not even the smell of a hot meal could drag Ford out of his hiding spot. He went to bed disappointed and exhausted, with a headache worse than when he started the day. 

The next morning Bill woke up to the sound of whispering in his room. He opened his eyes to find Mabel hovering above him, a wide grin on her face. 

“Wake up, sleepy pants! We got you a surprise!!” She said, pulling him up by his hands. 

“Mm, gift?” Bill mumbled, still half asleep. 

He blinked awake to find Stan standing near the entrance to his room with a tall, thin box on one side of him and a huge plastic-wrapped roll on the other. It took him a second to realize the roll was a mattress and that the box had an illustration of a bedframe. They had gotten him-

“It’s a bed!” Mabel squealed, almost interrupting his thought process, “it’s a graduation gift.”

Bill couldn’t help but stare in disbelief, “Really? You went out and bought a bed just for me?”

“Yep! Do you like it?”

Bill smiled ear to ear. To anyone else this was just a gift. But Bill knew it was so much more than that. These blankets on the floor were temporary, easily removed if Bill ever slipped up. There were no reminders in these sheets, no permanence. They were just another sign of the fact that he wasn’t welcome here, that he could be removed any time he did something wrong. But this bed was permanent and it was his and his alone. This was tangible proof that he was welcome here now or at the very least that they didn’t plan on kicking him out anytime soon.

“I love it, Shooting star.”

“Even better news, we talked to Soos and he said the room is yours! You can stay as long as you want as long as you help around the giftshop and stuff.”

“But you better pull your weight. Soos is a nice guy but he’s a total push over. If I find out you’re taking advantage of him…” Stan said, making a threatening gesture with his fist 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be good.” Bill said as he got to his feet. 

“Good. Now let’s get this damn thing put up so we can get some breakfast.”

Bill, Stan and Mabel spent the early morning hours putting together the bed. It was a very frustrating process and seemed to take ages. Both Mabel and Stan claimed to be total experts in furniture assembly but Stan refused to read the instructions and Mabel spent more time putting stickers on things than actually helping. But Bill found that he liked using tools and assembling the wood to make his bed. He liked being able to make something out of a few seemingly useless  pieces of wood. He supposed it would be the closest thing he would get to manipulating the universe to his will. 

It took almost 2 whole hours and a lot of fighting between him and Stanley, but in the end he had a bed. His very own bed. 

Laying in a real human bed that was completely his and nobody else’s was a wonderful experience. The bed was soft and warm and it didn’t smell of a stranger or a basement, it just smelled vaguely of plastic and wood. He almost wanted to go back to sleep just so he wouldn’t have to wait to see how it felt to sleep in his very own bed. 

As he was putting his bedding on when Mabel seemed to remember something and clapped her hands together. 

“Oh I nearly forgot! I got you something!” 

She ran to the elevator, prying it open to reveal a shopping bag sitting on the floor. 

“A little house warming gift,” from the bag Mabel produced a bedazzled frame, “Since this room is yours now, I figured you’d want to personalize it a bit.”

Bill took the frame. Inside was a picture of him and Mabel, he vaguely remembered her snapping the selfie on one of his first days under the Pines family roof. He was wearing a deep set scowl and a glare that could wither forests but she was completely unaffected by it, a dazzling smile still sitting easily on her face.

”Jee thanks shooting star. It’s perfect.”

It was all perfect, honestly. His own little space that he had control of where he wasn’t expected to leave or relinquish control over it to someone else. He could do whatever he wanted with this room. He loved it. 

But as he said his goodbyes and thank you's to Mabel and Stan and laid back in his bed, he realized a whole new problem. One that had never once crossed his mind in the busy-ness of the past several weeks. 

He had no idea what to do with himself.

Chapter Text

Hobbies were something mortals used to help distract themselves from the crushing weight of the universe. 

Being bigger than the universe, Bill had never found the need for a hobby unless you counted rampant destruction and the constant breaking of both the laws of nature and inter-dimensional law. Once he had been incarcerated in the Thereprism, hobbies quickly became something expected of him as a way to seem normal. Daily arts and crafts time became a hell that smelled of paste and paint. 

So now, sitting down at the kitchen table with Mabel as she attempted to teach him to scrapbook was an exercise in infuriation. For the past two weeks she had tried everything in her arsenal of hobbies for Bill to try and so far every single one had been a failure. He didn’t like puppets or sewing or baking or bedazzling or coloring or painting or knitting or cross-stitch or papier-mâché or any of the draining projects Mabel had put in front of him. 

Scrapbooking was his least favorite so far, an odd and embarrassing reminder of one of his many escape attempts from the theraprism. His stupid book that didn’t even work (but did become a New York Times Number 1 seller somehow?) and that all the Pines taking turns writing mean notes in, talking about how much better their lives were without him. Of all the humiliations…he hadn’t been allowed to do arts and crafts for months after that, his guard had been increased and his doses upped. Bill stewed over the memory as he violently cut and pasted pictures on paper. Mabel watched with a concerned smile.

”Maybe scrapbooking isn’t for you,” she teased gently as she watched Bill snap his third pencil of the day.

Bill let out a loud sigh and dropped his head down on the table, “Why does none of this feel right?”

”Maybe arts and crafts aren’t your thing?”

”Then what else is there?”

”You could ask around! There’s a whole house of people with all sorts of hobbies and interests. I'm sure someone could teach you a hobby you’ll like. Maybe you can ask Grunkle Ford to teach you to draw,” She added the end in a sing-song voice, nudging Bill with her elbow. 

Bill regretted ever confiding in her the true nature of him and Ford's past relationship and his current feelings for him. He pushed her elbow away.

”Yeah, cuz that’s just how I picture my life ending, pencil in the eye.”

”Oh don’t be so dramatic. I wish you guys would just put your differences aside and bond!”

”I’d love to but I’ve been told to give him space and I think for once that’s good advice.”

”Booo,” Mabel jeered.

Bill rolled his eyes, sighing softly, his head still on the table, “I think I’ve kinda just given up on me and Ford.”

”Don’t say that! You two totally throw my happiness meter off. You with your big hole in your heart and Grunkle Ford with all his wounds. I feel like if you just talked-“

“Not this again…”

”I’m serious! If you talked you’d probably realize that you both miss each other so much. You could be best friends again!” Mabel sounded so encouraging but Bill knew that Mabel didn’t really believe what she said. 

Bill didn’t have ”He keeps avoiding me.”

”You’ll find a way in eventually.”

Having officially given up on the prospect of arts and crafts, Bill spent his next few days pestering various other people in the house. He followed Soos on his day off and had to admit Soos had his own brand of chaos that was both odd and intriguing. The man did what he wanted, it's just that most of what he wanted to do involved kids cartoons and video games. Bill had enjoyed the concept of games where he got to punch or destroy things but quickly lost interest when he kept losing.

Stan was also a bust, the man did not particularly like working too hard or doing much of anything. When he wasn’t helping out he just found a place to plop himself down and enjoy his day. While Bill liked the concept of wasting time, he found that his body just held too much energy to keep it up. He became restless faster than a toddler.

He had even tried Robbie and Pacifica on days that they showed up. They both took a lot of convincing (and a little nudge from Mabel) but in the end they both sat him down and showed off their own hobbies. Pacifica liked stuffy rich people sports that had to be played outside and the same artsy fartsy shit that he had already given up on when Mabel had showed him and Robbie played an instrument far too annoyingly complicated for his unpracticed fingers.

He was almost ready to give up and just resign himself to rotting in bed forever when one day he ran into Dipper on the porch with a knife in one hand and a wooden block in the other. He could make out the beginning shapes of a monster sketched onto the woodblock.

”What’s that?” Bill asked, nearly scaring Dipper out of his skin. 

“It’s a wood carving. I’ve made one of all the monsters I’ve come across.”

Dipper gestured to a small line of miniature beasts and creatures all hand carved. Bill paused as his eyes landed on a triangular carving with one eye. Dipper noticed him looking and turned pink, not saying a word.

Bill picked up his mini-me and was filled with a sadness he didn’t feel very often. Looking at his old form made him feel terribly homesick. He couldn’t help but think of his hench-maniacs, alone in the nightmare dimension, awaiting death. If only they could see their mighty leader now. 

“Can you teach me?” Bill asked quietly, never looking away from the wooden effigy.

”Really? You want me to?”

Bill nodded, finally setting down the mini-him, “It seems cool.”

Dipper eyed him with apprehension, trying to figure out if this was some trick or elaborate ruse or even practical joke. It took him a long moment of mental debate to finally decide it was safe enough to pull another knife out of his pocket and hand it to Bill.

”You’re lucky I keep a back up.”

He then handed Bill a wooden block and a pencil. 

“So this knife is just for carving basic shapes. You need a different tool to add details but the knife will be good for learning the basics. This wood is called basswood. It's good for carving because it's really soft but not brittle so you can add a lot of details. You just have to be careful with it because the wood is very soft.”

Bill listened to Dipper's whole lesson with rapt attention. Dipper was a surprisingly good teacher and Bill loved the calm and methodical rhythm that carving created, he loved the way the wood made the shape he wanted so easily and most of all he loved using a knife without getting weird looks. He enjoyed it so much that by the time calls to come in for dinner rang out from the house, Bill had made every shape he could possibly think of, even ones that didn’t exist on earth. He was so happy with himself.

It was peaceful on the porch as Bill and Dipper sat side by side, legs dangling off the edge and into the grass. Neither felt any need for words or to talk things out. They were both more than satisfied to sit side by side and just be. Bill found himself grateful for this silence, it was rare that anyone let him be alone with his thoughts. He almost didn’t want to get up for dinner. Eventually Dipper stood and gathered his figures and tools into a small bag.

”Keep the knife,” he said as he got up to leave.

Bill fiddled with the knife in his hand, unsure if he should say thank you. Dipper paused in the doorway and for a moment both sat there in a silence filled with unspoken words. 

“I uh, accept your apology by the way. I won’t ever be able to be like Mabel is with you, but…I know you’re trying.”

Trying. Bill felt an odd twinge of guilt in his stomach, had he really been trying? Was he even different? It felt like all he had done since he had got here was lie his way through each interaction and even though that had been his plan initially, it felt less and less necessary every time he did it.

Bill couldn’t even respond. He just kept staring at the knife in his hand. It seemed like every time he blinked, he was further and further away from himself. He didn’t even know who he was anymore. He was no longer Bill Cipher, conqueror of worlds and death and time. Now he was just Bill, completely alone in the world with no friends or family, lying every day just to have one place where he belonged. Bill Cipher destroyed a whole dimension, Bill was proud of himself for carving a heart out of wood. 

Bill dropped his head in his hands. He didn’t even know who he was anymore. He remembered a time when he had gleefully imagined killing this very family in the most gruesome ways possible. Now he was breaking bread with them. Had therapy truly housebroken him? Was he just a loyal dog, ready to follow orders? Was he so desperate for anything better than the theraprism that he would debase himself like this?

Why was he even doing this? On the off chance that the Ax would come back and deem him worthy for a real resurrection? What would he do then? With his true form and infinite power back, what would be next? Would he prove everyone who hated him right and turn his back on the people who had taken him in after he had tried to ruin them?

Bill sighed and laid down on his back, staring up at the awning. He felt like a monster. After all he had done, the Pines were the only people in the world who had ever been kind to him. And what had even done to repay them? Would anything ever be enough?

Bill sighed, refusing to think of solutions to an impossible problem. He simply dusted himself off and joined everyone for dinner, leaving the thought outside. 

Ford had forced himself outside almost every day since Bill had shown up. He knew it was a rotten way to spend his summer, away from his family, but he had so much trouble being around Bill he couldn't help himself. He feared that being around Bill for too long would cause him to fall back into bad habits. He had yet to realize that self isolation had been his absolute worst habit when Bill had been around. 

He hadn’t minded being outside for most of June but now that July had come the heat was nearly unbearable. He did his best to just ignore the heat but even in a tank top he found himself sweating through his clothes. He had been hiking through the woods for a while now, following a blood stained trail. Most of the time Ford went into the woods to study the creatures that lived inside but today he had a different goal in mind, he was there to hunt. 

He had a sneaking suspicion that a chupacabra was lurking in the woods near the shack and he didn’t want to risk Gompers getting eaten, he didn’t think Mabel would stand the heartbreak of her pigs husband dying. He didn’t usually waste his time hunting the creatures of the woods. He didn’t find it necessary to place his hand in the ecosystem of gravity falls. In fact he normally would have just told the family to keep all pets inside and the beast likely would have moved on to one of the many farms on the outskirts of town as soon as it realized that there was no food here. The real reason Ford was wasting his time was to simply have an excuse to get out of the house. It seemed like all he had nowadays were excuses. 

So here he was, crossbow hoisted on his shoulder, following a trail of fresh blood through the woods in sweltering heat. It wasn’t all bad, in the quiet of the woods he could think. His thoughts had room to roam free out here, not so cramped inside his head. He thought about his last private conversation with Bill. He had been so drunk yet so blatantly honest. He had spent so long forgetting that Bill was ever a chapter in his life. He had moved on and accepted everything that had happened. Accepted that it wasn’t his fault and that he had been used. The aches had faded with time and he had forgotten what it was like to hate so strongly that it burned. To feel fear so strongly it made you sick. 

But when Bill returned all those feelings came back, hate, anger, fear, self loathing. They swirled around him like a hurricane, following him everywhere. And yet, that night with Bill he felt something entirely new, pity. It was such an odd feeling to associate with the being who had once ruined his every living moment, who had once threatened to steal his eyes and made him forget his own identity. The man who had used him and played with his feelings. He had actually felt pity for him. He had looked into Bill’s eyes and realized he was a sad, lonely, miserable little man and with all his power stripped away he no longer had any way to hide it. And when Ford looked at it like that his heart ached. He wanted to tell himself that Bill deserved this fate, that he had earned it after everything he had done. But another part of him wondered deep down if all Bill needed was a home. Of course, no amount of love would have fixed him when he was drunk on power with the threat of death practically crawling up his back and an army of henchmen at his whim. But maybe now that all of that was gone…

Ford shook off the thought. He didn’t have time for such wishful thinking. 

When the sun was hitting its peak, Ford reached the end of the blood trail. He paused in the clearing where the blood splatters stopped, turning slowly in a circle. The clearing was empty and quiet, Ford strained his ears for any sign of life but all he got was the faint smell of copper and meat. He was about to move further into the clearing when warm liquid splattered down on his face from above. He ran his hand over his face and looked down to find blood. The trees above him began to creak. Looking up, Ford was just in time to see the mangled corpse of a deer falling from the trees above. 

Ford had no time to react, the deer's full weight knocked him to the ground. He struggled for a moment with the weight of the dead deer, blanching at the overwhelming metallic smell of blood and the musk of the deer's pelt. He could taste it in his mouth and feel the way it made his skin slick as he grappled with the exsanguinated animal. He tried to get his bearings but his head was filled with the horrible droning hiss of the chupacabra. He knew he should keep a level head but as his body filled with adrenaline he found the panic seeping in more and more.

As soon as Ford lifted the deer off him the beast was upon him, scratching at his skin with sharp claws. The injuries burned but Ford fought back against the pain and lifted his legs, delivering the hardest kick he could with both feet, quickly scrambling away across the ground. He searched the ground for his crossbow but it had been knocked so far away, he couldn't even see it. It didn’t help that his glasses where now smeared with an opaque layer of blood. He didn’t have enough time. He could hear the beast scrambling towards him on all fours. 

Ford turned around and faced the chupacabra just in time to see a large stick make contact with the creature's head. Both Ford and the goat sucker turned to see Bill standing at the edge of the clearing, another stick in hand.

Ford couldn’t help but stare, mouth agape for a moment. Of all the people he would have expected to come to his rescue in the middle of the woods, it was not Bill. 

The chupacabra charged at Bill, who stood terrified and holding his stick at the ready. Ford saw his chance. He stood, frantically looking for the crossbow. When he finally found it he dove for the weapon, turning and firing it with lightning speed. The bolt made contact and the chupacabra fell dead just before Bill’s feet.

Bill was frozen in place, a terrified expression stuck on his face. He turned and looked at Ford, smiling nervously. 

“I um…I brought you lunch.”

The walk back home was quiet and slow. Neither man said a word to each other as they hiked back through the woods. Ford's whole body ached and stung from the attack. He could tell that Bill kept glancing at him the whole time but he didn’t dare look back.

Eventually it was Bill who broke the silence, “So, a couple weeks ago, I got really drunk…” Ford sighed, he had worried this would come up eventually. “And when I woke up the next morning you were sleeping in my room. What happened?”

Ford fiddled with his crossbow. He had hoped that Bill wouldn’t even remember his involvement in that night, that he wouldn’t even know he had slept on the floor with him in the first place. 

”Well, you told me you couldn’t live without me, I asked you why you lied to me all those times and you told me that you didn’t know what else to do, that you became a lie yourself. Then you asked to kiss me, got sick and I had to take you downstairs.”

”Oh.”

“I was going to leave once I knew you were in bed safe but you begged me not to leave your side. You looked like you were going to cry. I felt so bad for you I decided I’d stay until you fell asleep, but then I accidentally fell asleep on the floor.”

”I’m sorry,” Bill repeated hollowly, like he was only saying it because he knew he was supposed to. Bill wasn’t apologetic, he was embarrassed.

”I know.”

They continued to walk in silence. Ford could tell from the look on Bill's face that he was stewing in humiliation. He felt a little bad for telling Bill what had happened but then again he saw no reason to lie. He wasn’t that cruel.

The house was quiet when Bill and Ford finally made their way back. Ford sunk down into one of the kitchen chairs, groaning in pain. He knew he should patch himself up but the pain kept washing over him, keeping him glued to the chair. He was so wrapped up in his pain he didn’t even realize until after that Bill had set the first aid kit on the table and was now rummaging through it

”Do you know how to use that?” Ford asked.

”Kinda,” Bill shrugged, pulling out a washcloth and wetting it in the sink. 

Ford found it remarkable how Bill moved so naturally around the kitchen. No longer a baby deer plopped into an unfamiliar location, he interacted with his environment like it was home. He had supposed it had been a whole month but Ford had honestly expected Bill to be more resistant to change, to fight against his new environment like a donor organ rejecting its new body. He supposed Mabel was an even better teacher than he gave her credit for. 

Bill sat in front of Ford, grabbed his wrist and gently cleaned the wounds on his arms. Ford was surprised at how tender his touch was, how he went slow and didn’t press too hard. He found it hard to swallow this new Bill. He had gotten so used to force and unnecessary cruelties that the gentleness felt almost frightening. He felt tense waiting for pain to come. 

“Can you take your shirt off?” Bill asked, still holding his wrist. 

“What?” Ford felt his cheeks burn against his own wishes

”Your chest, it’s hurt. I can’t clean it with your shirt on,” Bill raised an eyebrow, fighting an amused smile. 

“Oh right, of course,” Ford slowly peeled off his ruined shirt, not able to look Bill in the eyes through embarrassment.

Bill leaned in close as he cleaned the last of his wounds and Ford couldn’t help but notice that he smelled so strongly of wood shavings. It was nice. Ford was acutely aware of the fact that the two of them hadn’t been this close in 40 years. Bill had never been so gentle with him back then, even in their most tender moments. But here he was like a whole new person. Bill had risked his life for him, he had walked all the way home with him and had begun to patch him up without even having been asked. Ford almost wanted to grab him by the collar and ask him who the hell he was, what was his game? 

Bill pulled away and began to pull out gauze.

”You really saved my skin today,” Ford said quietly as Bill bandaged him up.

”Don’t mention it.” 

“The Bill Cipher I knew would not have thrown that stick at that monster.” 

“Yeah he would have found a way smarter to take that thing out,” Bill let out a hollow laugh, avoiding eye contact. 

“I don’t think the old Bill would have saved me at all.”

Bill frowned, his voice coming out squeaky and defensive, “You don’t know that. Old Bill just did what he wanted, if he wanted to save you he would have.”

“Would he have wanted to save me?”

Bill didn’t respond.

”What’s the new Bill like?”

Bill glanced up, surprise apparent in his features. It took him a while before he finally responded, “I don’t know. I think the new Bill might be a bit of a pansy. Kind of a  loser.”

”How so?”

”Well, Bill Cipher did what he wanted when he wanted. He partied every day and night with no end in sight. He was beloved by all his subjects and hated by all authority. He was so powerful and infinite and nothing could ever stop him. And now…” Bill looked so deeply sad as he sealed all of Ford's bandages, “when you take all that cool stuff away, there’s not really anything left of the old Bill at all. New Bill doesn’t really have anything going for him.”

”I see.”

”But um, new Bill has a job so…that’s cool I guess,” Bill rolled his eyes and put away the first aid supplies, “You’re all patched up.”

”Thank you,” Ford said, examining Bill's work, “Wait, you got a job?”

”Yeah, Soos is letting me cashier.”

Ford raised an eyebrow, was he the only one who hadn’t gotten chummy with Bill over the last month?

”What made you get a job?”

”I wanted to get supplies for whittling and Stan said I have to if I wanna keep the room,” Bill admitted sheepishly. 

Ford couldn’t help but laugh, causing Bill to turn red, shoving him.

“It’s not funny!” 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. You just surprise me sometimes. Even after all these years you still surprise me.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

For just shrugged unsure of the answer himself. He still had no clue how to feel about Bill. His body, his heart and his mind all seemed to have different ideas of what to think of him and they all seemed to start fighting whenever Bill was nearby. In someways he felt like a child with a crush and in others he felt like a man fighingting a war. There was no peace around Bill Cipher

“When we last spoke one on one, you told me that life felt meaningless when I’m not around. There was a time when I felt the same way. I felt like my life was over when you left me. It feels weird having the tables turned,” Ford was unsure of why he was confessing this.

Bill looked down at his hands, “Life isn’t meaningless without you. Not anymore. I needed you to numb my hurt, I wanted you to make all the pain go away the way you used to. But there are other things that help,” Bill cracked a small smile, “Though, if i recall correctly, it’s you who left me.”

Ford couldn’t help it, he began to laugh and it wasn’t long before Bill joined in.

”Well…agree to disagree,” Ford said as his laughter finally subsided.

The two sat there in silence for a moment before Bill picked up the first aid kit and put it away. 

“You should really clean up, you’re covered in deer blood.”

Ford sighed, examining himself, ”I suppose I should.”

Bill lingered in the kitchen doorway, the weight of a million unspoken words hanging between them, “Well, I’ll see you at dinner.”

”Bill, we should talk, you and I. One on one. Are you free tonight?”

Bill gulped, “Yeah. Sure.”

Ford watched Bill go before slumping down in his chair with a sigh. He didn’t know who this new Bill was but he did know one thing for certain; whoever he was, he was dangerously close to making Ford fall all over again.

Chapter Text

That night, after all the dishes had been washed from dinner, Bill and Ford walked side by side at the edge of the woods. Ford watched in amusement as Bill walked ahead of him, following trails of fireflies. 

“I remember we used to conjure these up in the mindscape,” Bill said, happily showing Ford a handful of the glowing creatures. 

Ford watched Bill's childlike joy with a twinge of sadness. He was too reminded of their time in the mindscape when he watched Bill. He was reminded of times when Bill would conjure up whole fantastical worlds just for the two of them to play in. He had been so young then. Bill used to seem so carefree, so happy when they had been together. 

What had happened?

“So…have you gotten used to being human?” Ford asked, sitting on the ground with Bill who was still observing the fireflies.

“No.” Bill chuckled, “I don’t think I ever will. Everything about me feels wrong and out of place. It’s nothing like being a human in the mindscape or possessing someone's body. I don’t even know how to describe it. And god, human bodies are so much work and they literally seem to hate you. My stomach hurts when I'm hungry, I get nauseous and my head hurts when I forget to drink water. I can barely think when I’m tired…this body is so demanding. And it never ever stops! There’s always more work to be done. And then there's all the chores that come with existing? Laundry, dishes, making my bed, sweeping, showering. And all that is just the bare minimum expected of you as a human! It’s horrible. All that on top of a job which apparently all adults are expected to have, and I barely have any time to even think. Which maybe is a good thing, who knows.” Bill shrugged, ripping up blades of grass as he talked.

“I suppose it is pretty miserable, especially if you’ve gone trillions of years without having to lift a finger.”

“Hey, you definitely have to lift fingers to pull all the strings I was pulling,” Bill laughed at his own joke. Ford did his best to suppress a smile.
The two sat side by side, silently staring into the woods. Ford was acutely aware of the way Bill kept looking at him though he couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.

“What do we even do now?” Ford asked quietly, never breaking eye contact with the woods. 

Bill wrapped his arms around himself and Ford dared to glance over. Bill was no longer looking at him, his eyes wet and wide as he whispered back, “I don’t know,” there was another beat of silence before he continued, “I wish we could just restart. I don’t know how to make everything okay, Stanford. I don’t know what you want from me. I miss you so much, I don’t want us to stay like this forever.”

Ford closed his eyes, sighing softly. A blank slate felt so tempting but he didn’t even know if it was possible. “I don’t want to be like this forever either. But what do you want me to do, Bill? This is all your own doing.”
Bill tugged at his hair, frustration beginning to creep up on him, “I know, okay?! God all anyone has ever done since I got here is tell me how much I fucked up, I think I get the message!”
Ford shot him a glare, “You know that’s not true. There are so many people who have been kind and patient and quite frankly far too gracious with you. Mabel’s practically wasted her whole summer so far on you. So many people accepted your bullshit apologies because they’re so desperate for you to get better so you’ll stop being so goddamn horrible.”

Bill looked at him with wide eyes, expression grappling between hurt and anger. He stumbled over his words, trying to find a rebuttal. He eventually gave up and the two sat in silence for a while.

“They weren’t all bullshit,” Bill whispered quietly, not once looking at Ford.

“So you admit some of them were?”

Bill just shrugged and the silence resumed. The silence went on long enough that Ford's frustration eventually resided enough that he dared to scooch closer to Bill. Bill rested his head on his shoulder. They stayed like that for a minute before Ford slowly moved his hand into Bills. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest and he was hyperaware how sweaty his palms were. Everything about him screamed that this was wrong, that he was too close for comfort. But another part of him had missed this. Bill was nearly the only form of companionship he'd ever known outside his family. When he pushed all the bad memories aside, this almost felt perfect. 

“You’re holding my hand,” Bill said, glancing at their intertwined hands between them. 

“I can stop.”

“Please don’t”

Ford ran his thumb over Bill's knuckles, remarking at how weathered his hands were now. The Bill he once knew presented himself with no bumps or blemishes. There had never been an imperfection in sight when Bill had his say in things. He always put his best foot forward. Now here Bill was, warts and all. There was nowhere he could hide anymore. Ford knew that being so raw and exposed must have been scary for a man who had spent his whole life fighting to not be seen. But he didn’t feel bad for Bill, he knew it was a necessary hardship. 

“Do you hate me, Sixer?”

Ford shook his head, “No, Bill.”

“Do you even like me?”

“No...I don’t know…”

Bill sighed and pulled his hand away, “This is so confusing.”

Ford couldn’t say anything in response, it was just as confusing for him. He didn’t know what to feel. He had never wanted to be so near to someone and yet wanting to be as far away from them as possible at the same time. 

“I don't know what you want from me,” Bill balled up his fists in frustration, all his anguish melting into anger as it was so prone to do.

“I hardly know either, Bill. You truly expect me to have it all figured out?” Ford pushed Bill off of him and rose to his feet, “After everything you’ve done? We haven’t even spoken in 10 years and the last time we saw each other you almost killed my whole family! You tried to end the world!”

He really didn’t know what was wrong with him, why he couldn’t help but get frustrated at the most casual conversations. 

Bill pushed himself to his feet, throwing his arms up, “God, Ford! How long are you going to keep bringing up the past? Do you want to just live in the past forever?”

“Better than you? Who wants to pretend like the past never happened!”

“I know it happened! I know so much has happened and everyone just loves reminding me how it's ‘all my fault’. But I can't do anything about it! It’s too late now! Don’t you think I want things to be different? Don’t you think I’ve seen every possible universe where I did things right? Where my family is still alive, where you and I are together, where I never even had the need for a new home in the first place? I can never go back. I can’t do anything to change what happened.” Bill took in a deep breath, frantically blinking away tears, “Can’t you see I’m trying? Do you think I want to work a job and make my bed every day and eat human food with my mouth and wear these stupid bells that I still don’t know how to untie and that nobody will take off for me?” Bill shook his wrists frantically to make his point, “You think I want to wear pants and use soap and sleep and be around all these people who don’t even like me and are only nice to me because they don’t want me to fly off the fucking handle? No! I would gladly be doing anything else! I would love to just sink into the ground and let the earth take me. I want to give up so badly, but I’m trying because…” Bill tore at his hair, “...because…I need there to be more to me than this!”

Bill shoved Ford, hard enough to knock the other man off balance. Ford felt himself falling backwards and yanked on Bill’s sleeve to stop his fall. This only resulted in two tumbling into the ground together, grappling with each other.

“You don’t care! You don’t care about how I feel! You only care about yourself and your own dumb trauma!” Bill yelled, shaking Ford by the collar.
“I only care about myself? You’re the most selfish being I ever met! You’ve spent the last trillion years in a perpetual pity party because you hurt everyone you ever meet!” Ford retorted, trying to wrench Bill's arms away.

“You used me. You never even liked me did you? You just kept me around because I made you feel good about yourself. You didn’t want me around, you just sucked up all my resources and then you left at the first sign of trouble. It could have been us against the world.”

“Oh you’re one to talk about using people! I thought we were partners but you only saw me as a pet.” 

“I took care of you didn’t I? I always had your best interests in mind! If you hadn’t run away it would have been like that forever.” 

“Why can’t you understand? I. Didn’t. Want. That!” Ford spit out, shoving Bill off of him. 

He tried to stand up but Bill dragged him back down into the dirt. Both struggled for control in the grass, limbs flailing, uncoordinated and frantic. Both wanted more than anything to be on top, to be in control, to have their piece heard. Nothing else mattered to them at that moment.

“You left me behind, Ford! It was supposed to be us forever, you ruined my life!”

Ford found himself pause, those words striking close to home. He had heard them before, from Stanley. For a second guilt clawed at him before he remembered he was speaking to the person who had caused that fight and suddenly he didn’t feel guilty anymore. He reeled his fist back, punching Bill in the jaw. The impact caused Bill to fall off of Stanford and into the grass.

“You ruined your own life!” Ford yelled.

Bill sighed, all the fight dying out in him. Ford stared down at him, unsure what to do. He felt so horrible. Why did every conversation they had always end up like this? Were they doomed to just keep fighting each other forever, never seeing eye to eye? Ford wished he could understand Bill, just as he wished more than anything Bill would understand him. Bill seemed so steeped in shame and loneliness but when the blame was pointed on him he always played the victim. Even if it meant losing someone forever he couldn’t take true accountability. The denial was too strong. 

Ford just sighed, pulling himself to his feet before helping Bill up as well. He wished there was something he could say to fix everything, to make things better. He wanted just one magic sentence that would make him realize the damage he had done. But Bill just smacked Ford's hand away and ran off towards the house. Ford couldn’t muster up the strength to chase after him. Instead he just stared into the distance and quietly let the tears flow. 

Bill stormed into the house, brushing dirt off his clothes and out of his hair. He felt so stupid. Why had he let himself get so worked up again? Why did this happen every time? It was almost like an out of body experience each time it happened, like his control switched off and his emotions just poured out in the most mangled way possible. He didn’t even know if he had meant half of what came out of his mouth. Then again he never did. Bill brushed his hand over the spot where Ford had punched him, wincing at the sting. 

Mabel and Stan were sitting together in the living room and both of their heads turned to stare at Bill when he came in. He must have looked a mess because both of them looked at him like he had a third eye.

“What?” Bill snapped.

“Are you okay? Did something happen with Grunkle Ford?” Mabel asked, patting the seat beside her.

Bill ignored her invitation, already making his way towards the other end of the room. 

“Nope everything's great! I mean who cares anyways, right? Who gives a damn what’s going on with me. Who cares! I must be stupid for…for…” Bill huffed in frustration, realizing nothing he was saying made sense, “Nevermind.” 

He left but not before watching the concerned looks shared by Stan and Mabel. Bill felt paranoia creep up on him, remembering what Ford had told him. Was everyone only being nice to him because they were scared of him? Of course , it made so much sense to him. How could he have ever believed that they were being nice to them because they cared? Of course they were scared of him. 

Well good! He didn’t want any of them to like him anyways. He preferred it if they were scared of him. It’s what he had wanted all along, right?

Right??

As Bill stood in the darkness of the giftshop, his hand paused on the doorknob back down to his room, he was overwhelmed by a tightness in his chest. His eyes burned and that lump was back in his throat. He had to take several deep breaths to keep himself in control of his emotions. He could hear a faint conversation from the living room and while he couldn’t make out what was being said, he could make out Ford's voice in the conversation. He was sure that Ford was telling them all what happened, spinning Bill in the worst light possible. Bill sighed and opened the door to the basement, taking the steps two at a time. Just as he reached the elevator he heard footsteps behind him. He paused but didn’t turn around. He knew it was Ford behind him, he didn’t want to look at him right now. 

“Bill, can we talk please? Actually talk this time? Without fighting?” Ford was near enough that Bill could smell him.

“What is there to talk about? I got the message. You don’t like me, nobody else actually likes me either…I get it.” 

“Bill,” the exasperation was already creeping into Ford’s voice, “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said the things I said. I only said them to be hurtful.”

Bill turned just a little bit, so he could see Ford out of the corner of his eye, just above him on the stairs.

“Yeah well, congrats. It worked,” Bill sucked in a breath, “I really thought that if I just tried hard enough, things could go back to the way they were between us. Before everything.”

“We can never go back to that, Bill. You know that.”

“Well, couldn’t we try?” Bill asked, hating the way his voice cracked as he spoke.

“I don’t know,” Ford whispered back.

Bill just nodded slowly in understanding, not sure what else to say. He was about to leave when Ford caught him by the arm and spun him around so they were face to face. Bill was about to tell him off but Ford kissed him. Bill was so surprised by the contact that he froze up, unsure of what to do. Half expecting this to be a trick or a test or a trap, it took Bill a long moment to finally lean into the kiss and relax. Bill thought the kiss was like heaven. Even if Ford was kissing him way too hard and holding him far too tightly, it was still bliss. Bill had waited so long he didn’t even mind the way Ford shoved his tongue inside his mouth as soon as his lips parted. He didn’t mind as Ford pushed him into the elevator as soon as it opened. He didn't mind the way Ford roughly groped at his chest and his thighs and his ass. It all felt perfect to Bill. He had craved this kiss for so long he would have continued even if Ford plunged a knife into his chest. He found that a real human body came with one perk he had never thought of; he felt everything a million times stronger than if he had been in the mindscape. This body was sensitive and responsive in a way a human body in the mindscape never could be. It meant that Bill could feel every nip, scratch, grab and even when it hurt it was divine because it came from Ford. He wasn’t exactly gentle himself, yanking and pulling and grabbing like a desperate teenager. 

As the elevator opened, neither man broke contact, stumbling backwards into the lift. Bill didn’t even realize that Ford pressed the button for his room until the elevator started moving downwards. Ford pushed him against the wall of the elevator and for a moment Bill wished the ride would never end. The kiss continued the whole way to his bed, Ford only breaking the kiss to push him down and crawl on top of him. Before either of them knew it their clothes were scattered around them. Bill knew deep down that this was probably a bad idea. That he should have turned Ford away, that he should have been stronger.

But that night he allowed Ford to stay anyway.

The next morning Bill woke up in an empty bed. A sickness filled his stomach as he realized he was completely alone in his room. Why had he let that happen? He felt a bit pathetic, letting Ford into his bed when he was trying so hard to prove that he was different. He wondered what Ford thought of him now. If he was going to tell everyone. He couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever do this again or if he had just enjoyed their last time together without even realizing it. 

Bill dragged himself out of bed, grumbling at his sore muscles and joints, he once again cursed the Axolotl for the aging body he had placed him in. As Bill yanked on his clothes, his eyes landed on the desk. It had once belonged to Ford but Bill had cleaned it out and turned it into a carving station. Two of his carvings had been removed from their spots in the lines of other carvings and now lay haphazardly on the desk next to a piece of paper. Bill groaned in embarrassment as he realized which two had been removed from their spots. 

The first was a carving of Ford, Bill could only imagine Ford's reaction to seeing a small wooden version of himself sitting on Bill's workspace. That in itself was already bad enough but it was the other carving that Ford had removed that made Bill's stomach drop. It was a carving of two triangles, one red and one blue, holding hands and waving up at the viewer. He scowled as he lifted the carving. He wasn’t even sure why he had made it. He had been alone at night and particularly homesick that day, maybe a little drunk. He should have tossed it into a fire as soon as it was finished. Bill shoved the wooden figure into one of the desk drawers and slammed it closed, focusing instead on the note on the desk. 

It was written in a code that Bill recognized immediately, almost surprised that Ford knew it too. It was a combination of Ford's own secret code and a code that Bill had invented. He had thought of himself so clever at the time to mash their codes together into a weird headache of encryption. The note read rather simply; ‘Don’t tell anyone. -Ford’. Bill couldn’t help but rip up the note and throw it away. Of course Ford wanted to keep it a secret. That didn’t surprise him one bit. He was used to Ford sweeping him under the rug but the reminder that Ford was so deeply ashamed of him still stung. Deep down he knew that Ford keeping secrets was because of him but he couldn’t help the anger that wormed its way into his brain no matter what.

Bill fully expected that to be the end of it. He went about his day and tried his best to not think about the previous night. Tried hard to think about anything other than how badly he wanted it to happen again. But that night after dinner he found himself constantly catching glances from Stanford. He did his best to ignore it but that night Ford sneakily passed him another note, also encoded. This one read; ‘Meet me in your room, 9pm. -Ford’. Bill didn’t need to be told twice. He was already waiting at the edge of his bed by 8:30. As soon as Ford stepped out of the elevator, Bill was on him and they wasted no time in repeating the events of last night.

As July stretched on, Ford and Bill found themselves in a relentless cycle. Their first kiss had broken a seal that neither of them even knew was there and after that night Bill and Ford found themselves seeking each other out almost constantly. If Ford had a particularly stressful day, they snuck off together. If Bill was feeling angry and upset, he whisked Ford away from everyone else. They never spoke about it to anyone, they never even spoke about it to each other. And around everyone else their behavior never changed, they still ignored each other in public. They had come to the unspoken agreement to no longer speak on their feelings and their past, knowing that it would just lead to more fighting. Instead they let their bodies do the talking and placed any grudges they may have held to the side, like glasses set on a bedside table.

August drew closer and Bill found himself swept up in the daily routine of his human life. He found it bizarre how easily he acclimated to his new life. He still felt like an alien going through the motions but now he at least felt like he was somewhat decent at the odd charade he found himself in. He knew that most of the people who knew of his return didn’t like him, but at the very least they tolerated him. Everyone had stopped picking on him and had mostly just left him to his own devices. It was clear that there was no trust towards him in the slightest however, despite everything he still had to wear the bells on his wrist and there was an unspoken rule that he wasn’t allowed outside the house on his own. 

Oddly enough he found his relationship with Soos growing. The two of them had a lot of time alone together when the shack was slow and Soos was rather good at filling in the awkward silence. Bill didn’t know what it was about Soos but he actually enjoyed talking to him. Soos had the most bizarre and random views on everything, did as he pleased without fear of judgment and was surprisingly open minded. Though Bill supposed you’d have to be to both employ and house a demon who tried to end the world and kill your friends. 

Days passed by in a steady routine of breakfast, work, lunch, more work, dinner and bed. Bill probably would have lost his mind in the droning rhythm of monotony if it weren't for Stanford. They had picked up on the horrible habit in the past weeks of blowing off work to see each other. Bill found himself looking forward to the times when Stanford would leave him coded messages asking to meet up. He found himself rushing to his room every time the request was made.

Today was no exception. Almost as soon as the sticky note was in his hand, he was already requesting his thirty minute break. He was already unbuttoning his shirt during the elevator ride down to his room and by the time he and Stanford embraced he was stripping off his pants. Both men were so wrapped up in the other that they didn’t even notice as the elevator was called back up. They didn’t hear as someone on the floor above stepped into the elevator and they didn’t even pick up on when it started its descent back down. Perhaps if they had heard it they would have made some attempt at decency. They would have been able to form some sort of lie in the short time it took the elevator to go up and back down again. But neither man was perceptive enough. It wasn’t even until the ding of the elevator echoed through the room that Bill and Ford realized they were about to be caught. They both froze mid embrace and half naked as the elevator doors opened to reveal Stan. 

“Hey, Bill. Mabel wanted me to tell you-” Stans paused as he realized he had just walked in on something he definitely wasn’t supposed to see. His eyes very quickly averted to the ceiling, “Nevermind. I’ll tell ya later.”

Stan very quickly closed the elevator doors, leaving Ford and Bill alone. Both of them stayed frozen for a long moment before Ford quietly whispered, “ Fuck .”

“Shit,” came Bill's agreement, pushing Ford away and pulling his shirt back on. 

Both of them stewed silently in shame and fear for a long moment, unsure of what to say to fix this situation.

“Well, it can’t be that bad right? Who would your brother possibly tell?” Bill asked nervously.

“Everyone,” Ford said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “He would tell everyone.”

Chapter Text

By dinner time, everyone knew. 

Bill had been in a lot of awkward situations in the time since he had become human, but sitting at the dinner table with Stanford right across from him as everyone stared them down with disbelief was a new low for him. It was very obvious that everyone had questions but nobody knew how to bring them up at the dinner table.

“So…um…Grunkle Ford, Bill, are you two…dating again?” Mabel asked hesitantly, bending and unbending a plastic spork.

“No,” Bill answered quickly, not wanting Ford to give a long winded non-answer, “We’re not dating, nor were we ever dating.”

“Really? Because Mabel told me you guys are hoo-” Dipper started to ask but was silenced with an elbow to the ribs from Mabel.

“So you’re not dating. What are you doing exactly?” Mabel asked, pointing her bent spork at both of them. It was very clear that for as much as she was trying to seem casual, panic was starting to set in. Betrayal lined the features of her face. 

“Well, I hardly see how it’s relevant,” Ford said.

“It’s relevant because Bill is our enemy Grunkle Ford! Don’t forget who wanted to kill him when he first showed up,” Dipper chimed in again.

Bill hated it when they talked about him like he wasn’t there. He also hated the pang of hurt that rang through him as Dipper referred to him as the enemy. It was just a painful reminder that he was still the odd one out. His bells looked up at him as if to confirm that yes, he still wasn’t welcome here. He had tried so hard to pretend like he didn’t care but sitting here, so raw and exposed, it was impossible to ignore the pain. 

He looked across the table to see Stanford staring down at his plate. In an instant guilt began to claw its way into his brain. Ford looked so lost, so disappointed in himself, so full of shame. Bill couldn't help but wonder if this was the first time Ford had been interrogated about him. 

Bill cleared his throat, “Listen kids, don’t be too hard on Sixer. It wasn’t his fault,” Bill didn’t even know what he was saying but the words kept impulsively tumbling out of his mouth like a dam had broken somewhere in his brain, “It was my idea.”

All at once all three accusatory glares swiveled from Ford to him. He felt hot as Stan, Mabel and Dipper all looked at him with various degrees of betrayal. He felt awful, unsure of why he had even taken the fall for Ford in the first place. He had just felt so bad watching him get chewed out. 

“Bill, when I said I wanted you to make up with Grunkle Ford this is not exactly what I meant!” 

“So what’s your plan anyway? Were you going to sweet talk Ford into helping you get your body back?” 

Bill couldn’t help but laugh a little. Glancing over he could see Ford barely repressing a smile. As if that plan would have ever worked. 

“No, no, kid. Nothing like that.” 

“So why’d you do it?” Stan asked, giving him a steely glare. 

Bill squirmed uncomfortably, grasping for a believable lie that wouldn’t get him the boot. He didn’t dare tell the truth, that he was desperate and lonely and Ford was the only comfort and distraction from day-to-day life. 

“Because I could.” he shrugged, hoping that he sounded more casual than he felt. The lie hurt coming out of his mouth, like he had just been chewing on barbed wire.
Now he had four pairs of eyes on him as Ford’s head shot up. Bill briefly met his glance and was surprised to see scrutiny instead of hurt on Ford’s face.

Stan’s hands balled up into fists and Bill watched as he physically turned away from the table so he wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. Dipper went to stand, mouth already open and ready to fight but Mabel stopped him. She stood up instead, placing both hands on the table.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Bill? You knew Ford’s feelings for you, you knew that he wasn’t over everything and you took advantage of him!” Bill shrunk back in his chair as Mabel yelled at him, tears in her eyes. She looked like she wasn’t even here like she was reliving something that had been over for years, “How could you? I really…I really thought that maybe you were really changing. I thought maybe something I was saying or doing was getting through to you. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to let you trick me again.” 

Mabel burst into sobs and Bill could do nothing but just sit there, feeling like his heart had just been ripped out. His chest felt tight and his vision was beginning to blur, his eyes burning. He gripped the fabric of his pants, struggling to take in a breath. He wasn’t sure of what to do or what to say. Why had he lied to save Ford’s skin?

He was about to retort when Ford suddenly stood up, “Bill, you…you shouldn’t have to lie. I was the one who initiated things and the decision to continue our relationship was mutual. I understand all of your apprehension considering our…past, but I am an adult fully capable of making my own decisions. Please know that if I felt unsafe or taken advantage of I am of sound enough mind to end things.”

Everyone sitting at the table stared at Ford with slack jawed expressions. But no one's mouth was quite as agape as Bills was. He had fully expected to take the full blame for everything, every time he thought about this very scenario it ended with Ford shunning him and the rest of the family taking his side. He couldn’t fathom a single reason for Ford to be backing him up. 

The tense silence stretched on for a long minute before Dipper stood up, “How could you do this to us? I trusted you! We all trusted you! I helped you drag him inside and the whole time you didn’t even tell me who I was carrying. I’ve stood by while a lot of things happened this summer that I didn’t like because I actually believed all of you when you said that if he got better he wouldn’t hurt anyone. But it’s obvious to me now that he can’t get better at anything other than lying,” Dipper waved his arms around, nearly clocking his sister in the head a few times, “This is too far. Bill constantly takes what he wants with no consideration for anyone else but for himself and he totally roped you into it.”

Bill sunk down in his seat, still resisting the tears that burned in his eyes. He could tell that Ford’s eyes were still on him but he didn’t dare meet his gaze. He was completely frozen as he listened to the fighting around him. This all confirmed the fear that had been rolling around in his head for nearly a month. Nobody here liked him, they were all afraid of him. He had told himself over and over that he wanted them to be afraid but now he felt horrible. He felt a pain through his whole body that he couldn’t describe or trace to a source. 

“Grunkle Ford, do you love Bill?” Mabel asked softly, voice shaking.

Bill wished he could slide completely out of his chair and crawl away, he hated that he was here for this conversation. He had been through so many humiliations at the hands of the Pines but this one was the worst, no carefully crafted punishment or revenge could compare to sheer cosmic punishment. If the Axolotl was watching right now, Bill was sure that he was laughing at him.

“What?” Ford scoffed and Bill felt his insides twist, “Of course not. It’s nothing like that.”
“So why? Why would you sneak around with Bill of all people if you don’t even love him? Did you truly do it just because you could? Did you not even think about how much it would hurt your family? You promised me, Grunkle Ford. You promised that you’d stop keeping things from me!” Mabel struggled to form her sentences through sobs.

“I..We…it’s just that-” Ford stumbled over his words. Bill almost wanted to jump up and exclaim that Ford didn’t owe any of them answers, that he was allowed to do as he pleased but he knew that wasn’t the answer they were looking for. Ford took a deep breath, glancing over once more at Bill before he continued, “I…I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

A quiet dissatisfaction settled over the room. Nobody really seemed pleased by that answer but then again Bill could not think of a single response that would have satisfied everyone. He didn’t even feel quite satisfied by the answer. He had never once asked why Ford had kissed him that first night or what had kept him coming back almost every day after. But Ford's answer just left more questions in Bill's mind. He couldn’t wrap his head around Ford. He didn’t understand if this meant that Ford enjoyed their time or if he hated it, if he actually wanted to be with Bill or if Bill was just a faceless stand-in that Ford used to fulfill his human needs. 

“This is so dumb . I thought you had grown out of this stupid habit of constantly leaving us out. We’re in our twenties and you still insist on treating us like children. Well you’re the one who hasn’t grown up! Not us! ” Mabel tossed down her now useless spork and turned to leave, “Whatever! Do what you want Grunkle Ford! You always do anyway!”

Mabel stomped out, leaving an even heavier silence in the wake of her anger. Mabel did not get upset like that. It even took her brother a moment to register what happened before he went after her, leaving just the three older men at the table. Ford and Stan looked at each other and then in unison at Bill. Bill squirmed uncomfortably under their gaze

“Heh, for someone who made me go through a whole apology ceremony she’s…not very forgiving…” Bill cringed at his awful attempt at humor, wishing more than anything he could just run out of the room. But for some ungodly reason he felt bad at the thought of leaving Ford behind.

“You both are idiots.” Stan chuckled without an ounce of humor, “I guess I can’t be too mad…I once tried to sleep with an evil spider woman. And that was after she tried to eat me.”

Ford barely stifled a laugh, relief filling his face at his brother's kindness, “Don’t forget the siren.”

“Oh and that harpy woman.”

Both brothers laughed and the tension seemed to slowly dissipate. Bill stayed still and quiet, fearing that if he brought attention to himself, Ford and Stan would remember why they were upset in the first place.

“You know you can do way better, right?” Stanley loudly whispered, loud enough for Bill to hear.

“Stanley, it’s not like that.”

Bill huffed, “I’m still here, ya know?”

Both of them stared at him blankly, their lack of care and understanding only making Bill more upset.

“Why does everyone talk about me like I don’t exist? I can hear you.” 

Ford closed his eyes, sighing a bit too loudly for Bill's taste. Ford always seemed so exasperated when they were together.

“You know what Bill, you’re right. I’m sorry. Thank you for taking my side tonight. I appreciate it,” Ford stood and guided Stan to the exit of the kitchen, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Stan seemed like he wanted to speak his own piece but Ford kept ushering him out the door and before Bill knew it he was alone again. In the silence of the kitchen, his feelings overwhelmed him. He sat there for a long time with his head in his hands. He replayed the way Mabel looked at him over and over in his mind. She looked just like Ford.

Bill let out a grunt of frustration and swept his plate off the table, jumping as it crashed against the floor. He couldn’t help but wonder why they kept giving him plates capable of being broken when he kept breaking them. Bill couldn’t help the sick feeling that danced in his gut. He felt so terrible and he couldn’t quite place all the reasons why. He had finally gotten Ford back even if their relationship was a fraction of the way it had been before. He had been so happy just being with Ford. Why did he feel like he had to apologize for that? Why was him being with Ford such a big betrayal? Why did humans have to tie so many emotions to everything? He thought once more about Mabel's reaction and the sick feeling got worse. Why had she been so upset? Hadn’t she wanted Bill to be close to Ford again?

Bill let out another noise of frustration before pulling himself up and moving to clean up the mess he made.

Ford dragged Stanley into the living room, ignoring the way Stan looked at him like he had a second head.

Stanley honestly couldn’t act too surprised that his brother had tragically rebound with his worst and only romantic partner. Even at his busiest, Ford always took the time to come to bed to sleep. It was something that Mabel had insisted on, constantly sleeping at his desk or not sleeping at all was bad for him, especially at his old age. When Ford stopped showing up to sleep in his own room Stan had suspected something was up. At first he thought Ford had gone paranoia crazy and was working on a way to get rid of Bill, but then he started to notice that Ford would disappear during the day too. For exactly 30 minutes. Every time Bill took his break.

Stan was smarter than most people gave him credit for. He had put two and two together pretty fast. But he figured there was a reason Ford hadn’t told him and he was fine with everything coming out in its own time. Looking back, knowing what he knew, he should have just waited for Bill to come back upstairs to talk to him. 

“Did you seriously just apologize to him, poindexter?” Stan said accusingly.

“I..I suppose I did. He did try and protect me earlier. He almost ruined his progress with Mabel for me. I felt bad.”

“You seriously felt bad for that guy? Don’t let his fleshy face fool you, Stanford, that's the demon that almost ruined our lives.”

“Is he though?”

Stanley stared at his brother, completely slack jawed. He went to retort angrily and then paused, thinking for a good long second.

“I don’t know,” Stan mumbled after a good long moment of contemplation. 

“Listen, I know Bill better than anyone in the whole multiverse. Even before my own family , that's how much he took over my life. The Bill I knew was selfish and vain even in his kindest and most charming moments. The Bill I knew would have relished in a fight breaking out at the dinner table, especially because he caused it. He would never have stuck out his own neck for me. A few weeks ago Bill saved me from getting mauled by a monster. And now this. It's the second time he’s risked himself even though he knows that he won’t gain anything from it. It’s…unusual. I feel like something is truly different about him.”

“But what if it’s just a trick? What if this is what he wants you to think. I know he’s a lot more sad without all his super powers but he’s still Bill. He’s used every trick in the book against us before. Why should we trust him?”

“You don’t have to trust him. I barely know if I trust him. But trust me , Stanley. Trust that I would deal with him the second I believed him to be a genuine threat.”

Stan sighed, giving his brother a sympathetic look, “You know I trust you more than anyone, Sixer, but letting your guard down could be dangerous.”

“I can handle it. I know the warning signs now, I haven’t gone that soft. I’m only human, Stanley, can you blame me for craving companionship?”

Stanley knew that to blame his brother would be slightly hypocritical. He had nearly crashed their ships into the rocks just last year because of a particularly pretty mermaid. But there was still a part of him that wanted to grab his brother by the front of his shirt and shake him until he reached his senses. It was true he had seen a softer side of the demon since they had been forced to house him, but nothing so soft as to completely forget everything they had been through. That demon had tortured his family. And even if Bill was completely unrecognizable, he still couldn’t hear his voice without remembering what it had felt like to be completely erased. He wished he could see into his brother's mind to figure out what could make a man run into the arms of a beast like that. 

“Dipper and Mabel will take a lot more convincing than me, Sixer. Not that I’m necessarily convinced but…I trust you. If this is truly helping, if you’re truly happy then I’m not going to get in the way. But he’s on thin ice, I won’t hesitate to kick his ass again at the first sign of trouble.”

Ford laughed, hugging his brother tight enough to cut off oxygen. He didn’t dare mention all of his conflicting feelings about Bill, he didn’t want to make things more complicated than they already were. 

“I’ll be safe, I promise.”

“Good, now I’m going to go check on the twins, maybe try and make them less mad at you”

Ford chuckled, waiting til his brother was out of sight before his smile dropped.He felt so bad upsetting Mabel. He wondered if he had ever seen her that upset. He knew she wasn’t even that upset about Bill, but about the fact that Ford had lied to her. Everything else that happened was certainly upsetting, but Ford had a feeling that if he had told her about his re-emerging feelings for Bill from the get-go she would have come around a lot faster, maybe she would have even encouraged some communication between them instead of the wordless mess they had currently. He didn’t know how long it would take for her to forgive him now.

Ford was snapped out of his thoughts by a crash that came from the kitchen. He couldn’t help but wonder if Bill had broken another plate. Deciding it was best to leave the rest of the family alone for now, he walked into the kitchen to find his suspicions confirmed; Bill knelt on the floor, slowly picking shards of porcelain off the floor. He seemed to be on the brink of tears and in that moment it struck Ford as odd that he had seen Bill nearly cry so many times but had never seen the tears actually flow. He wondered if Bill even could cry or if his heart was too stone cold for that. If the most he could muster was just his body's involuntary response to stress. 

“How many broken plates does this make?” Ford asked, hoping it sounded like a joke and not an insult.

Bill jumped a bit, his head shooting up. It took him a second to relax again and continue to pick up the broken plate, “Surprisingly it’s only the second one.”

Ford kneeled down on the ground to help Bill and the two of them stayed like that for a long moment, just cleaning in silence. 

“So what now?” Bill asked hesitantly as he threw away the broken plate.

“I…I don’t know. I’d be lying if I told you that I haven’t enjoyed these past few weeks. I don’t want what we have to stop. I don’t regret sleeping with you, Bill. Not the first time or any other time after that. I wish I could stop being so ashamed and afraid. I should have told my family the first time I felt my feelings for you returning, it would have softened the blow.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Bill asked softly.

Ford couldn’t help but laugh even though nothing was funny, “I don’t know.”

“Humans are so confusing.”

“Well you’re a human now, Bill.”

“Yeah, the most confusing of all,” Bill cleaned quietly for several long moments before he quietly asked, “I don’t want to go back to being alone, Ford. I like your companionship. I find myself wishing that you stayed around in the morning, that you’d talk about your thoughts and what you’re interested in. I’ve never wanted that before,” Ford frowned but Bill just kept going, “You make me different! Don’t you see that? You change me.”

“Bill-”

“ Please, Stanford, I want to be around you in public. I want you to be near me and not feel any shame. I don’t understand it. I don’t know what you do to me. I don’t understand it. You make me want to be normal. You make me want to be human. ” 

Bill crawled forward and took both of Ford’s hands in his. He didn’t know what had come over him but he couldn’t stop talking.

“I hated the way Mabel looked at me, I hated lying, I hated that fight. It wasn’t fun, it wasn't entertaining, it was hell, Ford! It was awful. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, all I know is that it’s because of you. Don’t make me suffer like this alone.”

Ford let out a shuddering breath, hoping his face didn’t betray how much he wanted to give in to Bill. He had wanted for so long for Bill to change his ways and come crawling to him begging for forgiveness. Bill was practically serving himself up on a silver platter and yet Ford still hesitated. Emotionless sex had been easier, this was so hard. It was so hard to admit that he still loved the man who had ruined his life. It was so hard to trust that Bill was telling the truth when he knelt down before him. And yet, for some reason, Ford pulled Bill in and kissed him anyway. The kiss was tender and sweet and for a second all of the mess of that day was forgotten. For a second loving Bill Cipher was easy. 

“I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Ford whispered.

“Neither do I,” Bill whispered back.

Chapter Text

Bill and Ford slept in each other's arms that night, no more words were exchanged between them. They remained unsure of how to express all of their emotions or find a way to forgive one another. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, that night felt more comforting than any night that had come before.

The next morning Bill was surprised to find that Ford hadn’t snuck out. He relished the opportunity to be able to watch Ford sleep. He didn’t get that chance often. He loved the way Ford looked when he was sleeping, the way all the worry melted off his face. It was the only time he ever saw Ford at peace. 

Bill could have stayed wrapped up in Ford's arms forever but a nagging worry persisted in his brain, telling him that Ford had only stayed in his bed by accident. He was so scared of this fear being confirmed that he slipped out of bed before Ford could even wake up. 

Bill poked his head into the kitchen, expecting to find it busy. He was surprised to instead see that it was empty of everyone except for Mabel. She sat at the table, anxiously scribbling away in a journal and chewing on her pen. Bill cleared his throat and Mable jumped, slamming her book closed. She looked up at him with wide eyes, anxiously gripping her journal. 

“Good morning, Shooting Star.” Bill said nervously.

“Bill! Can I talk to you?” 

Bill slowly nodded and sat down at the kitchen table, “Is this about last night?”

Mabel fiddled with her pen, not able to look Bill in the eyes, “Yeah, I’m really sorry…I behaved childishly. It’s just that, Great Uncle Ford keeping secrets from me, you deceiving me…it brings up a lot of bad memories. I want to be happy for Ford, I really do. If he’s moving on and learning to mend his past relationships that’s a good thing right?” 

Bill just shrugged, he didn’t know if he could consider what Ford was doing “moving on” or “mending past relationships”. They hadn’t even spoken about their relationship once until last night.

Mabel kept on rambling anyways, “Bill please be honest with me, do you love Ford? Do you even like him? I don’t think my grunkle can handle you breaking his heart again.”

Bill frowned, feeling pinned down under Mabel's earnest gaze. He hated the effect she had on him. He didn’t know what it was about her but the longer they spent time together the harder it became to lie to her. She was worse than all the others. 

“I don’t know how I feel about him. I don’t even know what love is or what it feels like or if I’m even capable of feeling it. All I can tell you is I have no underlying motives or plans. Take that as you will.” 

Mabel seemed to relax, if only a little, “You know Stan will kill you if you hurt him right?” 

Bill rolled his eyes and nodded.

“And me and Dipper will help.” She added, giving him a stern look.
Bill cracked a small smile, “Kiddo, I think if I even blink wrong, Ford will beat you to it. Our relationship hasn’t exactly been established on things like ‘trust’ or ‘mutual respect’.” 

This seemed to upset Mabel, her glare becoming less playful, “Bill, what have you and Grunkle Ford been up to? I thought you guys were sneaking off to get romantic and rekindle old flames. Have you really been just hooking up?”

Bill grimaced and shrugged again, unsure of how to answer. 

“Oh my god,” Mabel dropped her head into her hands and let out a long sigh, “Have you guys even talked ?”

Another non-committal response from Bill and Mabel looked like she was about to rip her hair out.

“I feel like you and Ford might need some relationship counseling. You can’t fall back into the same habits you did before, Bill. Those ‘trust’ and ‘mutual respect’ things you were talking about are the basic foundations of a relationship! Along with, oh I don’t know, communication??” Mabel tapped her pen against her book, grumbling quietly, “This is horrible. You two need an emergency lesson on romance.”

Bill scowled, “Hey, I’m great at romance. Besides, I thought you said we were done with human lessons.”

Mabel raised an eyebrow, “This is an emergency, Bill. You’re worse than Grunkle Stan and that’s saying something.”

Bill huffed and crossed his arms, “Is it really so hard to believe that me and Ford are happy with our dynamic?”

“ Yes ! Bill, you probably haven’t even realized it, but you care about Ford. You have such a strange way of caring, sure, but I see the way you talk about him. Are you really telling me that you’re happy barely speaking to Ford and only seeing him when you want to have sex?”

Bill stared down at his hands, fiddling with his own fingers. His mind drifted back to the confession he had made to Ford last night. He had felt so pathetic saying it but it was true, he wanted Ford to like him even when they weren’t in bed. He wanted Ford to like him and not be ashamed of it. He couldn’t help the twisting beastly anger that reared its ugly head when he thought about the fact that this was all his fault. It was all his fault Ford felt so much shame. it was all his fault that they didn’t communicate. His fault that they didn’t trust each other. The thought was so deeply upsetting to Bill that he couldn’t help but get so very angry. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. 

“Fine. You can teach me and Ford about relationships.” 

Mabel seemed to relax a little, settling back in her chair, “Thank you. Where is Grunkle Ford anyway?” 

Bill chuckled sheepishly, “well, last I saw him he was in my room.” 

Mabel immediately tensed up again, tossing her pen in the direction of Bill's face without actually aiming for him. He ducked, shooting her a glare. 

“Don’t tell me after everything that happened last night you guys really slept together again? Do you guys literally just shaboink instead of having emotions?” 

Bill wrinkled his nose in distaste, opening his mouth to retort but someone beat him to it, “Mabel, sweetie, please. You’re at the breakfast table.” 

Bill turned around to see Stan and Ford standing in the entrance to the kitchen. He had never seen Ford look so red. Stan seemed largely unaffected, though he was sure that man had seen just about everything at this point. 

“Sorry, Grunkle Stan,” Mable mumbled, sinking back down into her chair. 

Bill found himself tense up as someone behind him placed a hand on his shoulder, he glanced up to see Ford. Ford must have sensed his unease because he gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, rubbing his thumb in circles across his skin. Bill could have melted right then and there. 

“Mabel, I really hope you weren’t interrogating Bill. If anyone should be interrogated it’s me.” 

Mabel seemed to be unable to meet her grunkles eyes as she sat across from him, fiddling instead with the cover of her notebook. 

“Oh…hi Grunkle Ford…” She picked at the cover of her book for a while before finally mumbling, “I’m sorry about last night.”

Ford smiled, giving Bill's shoulder one last squeeze before going and sitting beside his niece, “I’m sorry too, Mabel. I should have come to you sooner. I’m sorry I broke my promise. I can only imagine what sort of memories that must have stirred up. I hope you can forgive me.”

The words had barely just escaped from Ford’s mouth when Mabel darted around the table and tackled him into a big hug, burying her face into his sweater.
“Of course, I forgive you, you big dummy.” 

All of the anxiety and worry seemed to melt off Ford’s face at that moment. Bill couldn’t help but stare pathetically at the touching scene. He wanted to feel happy for Ford but all he could feel was lonely and jealous. He wondered if there would ever come a day when forgiveness and apologies would be that easy for him too. 

Mabel straightened up, grabbing Ford by the shoulders, “But we have to have a serious talk about you and Bill. I know you had a father that didn’t talk about his emotions and you have zero experience when it comes to dating anyone who isn’t an absolute freak. And listen, if that absolute freak is your type and he’s into you and you’re into him then I guess I won’t judge too hard. But you guys have some serious issues that are only bound to make things more weird and uncomfortable for everyone here.” 

Mabel spoke at a million miles per minute to the point where both Ford and Bill had a hard time keeping up with her. When she finally paused to take a breath, Ford raised his hand to quiet her down.

“I appreciate the concern, Mabel. But I think Bill and I will be fine.”

Mabel raised an eyebrow, eyes boring into Ford, “Really?”

Ford glanced over at Bill for assistance but Bill just grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

“Mabel, I don’t want you to have to worry about me. You should be out enjoying the weeks of summer. Not fussing over an old man.”

“But Grunkle Ford you haven’t enjoyed this summer at all. Wouldn’t you feel much better if you didn’t have to keep hiding and running away? Wouldn’t it be nice to spend the rest of your summer by the side of the people who care about you? Isn’t that what the summer is for?”

Ford looked down at the table, eyebrows furrowed together, “Alright, Mabel. If you want to help so badly then I won’t stop you.”

Mabel grinned, dashing for the kitchen entrance. She moved so fast she managed to knock over a chair on the way out. 

“Great! Meet me in the living room in 15 minutes!” 

A moment of silence passed as Ford picked up the chair and set it upright. 

“I can’t believe you said yes,” Bill said, fiddling with his shirt button.

Ford chuckled, “I don’t think she would have taken no for an answer. I’m almost a little afraid of what she has in mind.”

“You should be,” chimed Stan from the stove.

“She got really upset when she learned that we had been having sex instead of talking about our feelings. And then even more upset when I said we didn’t have things like mutual respect and trust,” Bill chuckled, “I mean what is this a romcom?”

Ford did not find it as funny, fiddling with his hands, “I suppose she’s right. Those things are important. I don’t expect you to completely change your tune about romance and relationships, Bill, but if we are to be even semi-functioning maybe we should…try?” 

Bill nodded, he had already told Mabel yes so it’s not like there was any way to get out of it, “Yeah okay, Sixer. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” 

15 minutes later, Ford and Bill sat side by side on the couch while Mabel paced the floor in front of them. She seemed to be deeply contemplative as she walked back and forth. Bill wondered how long it would take for her to create a grove in the hardwood flooring. 

Suddenly she clapped her hands together and turned to face her audience, “Okay, so we all know there’s a lot of unspoken feelings in this house. Especially around Bill. Now unspoken feelings are one thing around someone you don’t particularly care about. But you two care about each other. So we must bring those feelings out into the open,” she chewed her lip, eyes darting between the two of them. Part of her was worried that she was making the wrong choice. If she should even be encouraging or supporting this, “I think you should each take turns voicing some feelings you have been keeping deep inside. Let’s try to make these “I” statements. This will help the environment feel less hostile. I’ll give you an example. I feel like you two don’t respect or trust me enough to share what’s going on in your personal life. It makes me feel like we aren’t family.” 

Bill and Ford nodded along, wearing identical faces of guilt. 

“I’m so sorry we made you feel that way Mabel. I hope going forward you can trust that I’ll be honest with you because I do respect and trust you very much,” Ford said. 

Mabel smiled widely, “That was a very good apology, Grunkle Ford! How about you start with your feelings. Be sure to look each other in the eye when you’re talking…and hold hands for good measure.” 

Bill and Ford tentatively faced each other but didn’t hold hands. Bill was unsure of if he should make the first move. So far the most publicly physical Ford had been was a simple hand on the shoulder. And that alone had made Bill want to combust. 

“Go on.” Mabel encouraged gently. 

Ford finally made the first move, taking both of Bill's hands. Bill almost wanted to rip his hands away, Ford being so forward in public felt wrong. Up until now the most affectionate they had been was in bed. 

“Okay,” Ford said, locking his eyes with Bill's “Bill, I feel…” he started, letting out a soft exhale after a momentary pause. “I feel like you have never truly seen me as a person. It makes me feel like I have no value to you beyond the things I can give to you or do for you.” 

Bill bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a defensive response. He just wanted Ford to see that he would have been happy if Ford had simply followed him through the universe forever. 

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way, Ford. I wish there was a way I could prove to you that I would have been happy with you no matter what. I wish there was a way to prove I’m happy with you now.” 

Ford thought for a moment before tentatively asking, “Bill, if I had come to you, genuinely, and told you ‘I’m sorry, Bill. I love you so much and I care for you deeply but I can’t build your portal.’ Would you have stayed? Or would you have abandoned me right then and there and moved on to the next sap who could give you what you want.” 

Bill frowned, suddenly so unsure of himself. Bill had always repeated over and over that he would have kept Ford no matter what. His favorite pet human with him till the end. But the more he thought about it the more he realized, he never would have in a million years. He would have abandoned Ford. He would have moved on and he wouldn’t have even thought about it. Ford would have become a thought that he would only find at the bottom of a bottle. 

The truth was the only reason he had done half of the stuff he had over the summer was because he was human. He had so many feelings that he had never been able to feel properly when he was immortal. They overwhelmed him and forced him forward. He was now constantly seeking ways to soothe all the emotional aches he had. And that included doing things he had never done before like ‘apologizing’ and ‘sticking things out when it got hard’. 

“I don’t know,” Bill lied, never breaking eye contact with Ford, “I don’t want to think about it. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.”

Ford gave Bill a look, one that Bill could interpret immediately; ‘ is that by choice? ’. Bill didn’t acknowledge it though he knew the answer full well. If he could, he would have been far, far away months ago.

Bill didn’t even wait for Mabel to prompt him, he just pushed onwards, “I feel like you’re going to hold my past actions against me forever. I feel like there's nothing I could do that will ever be good enough to make things better.”

Ford grit his teeth, unable to look Bill in the eyes. He felt a little disappointed when Stanford didn’t even try to deny it. 

“I know I’ve made you feel that way. I’m sorry. I don’t know what could make things better. Everything is so confusing for me. My heart misses you and yearns for you but everything else in me is screaming that you’re going to hurt me again. And I can’t help but expect that from you. I can’t stop preparing for you to make the wrong choice every step of the way.” 

Bill dropped Ford's hands, anger instantly burning through him. He couldn’t even speak, he was so upset. He wasn’t even so sure why he was so angry. He just wanted more than anything to make Stanford see his side of things. To feel how he felt.
Mabel, ever intune with everyone's emotions, leaned forward, “Bill, it’s okay. Take a few deep breaths.”

For some reason, her compassion only made the heat in his chest burn brighter. But he did what she said and the deep breaths seemed to make the fire die down. 

“How does what Ford said make you feel?” Mabel asked gently.

Bill glared at Mabel. He hated that phrase. He had heard ‘ how does that make you feel’ more times than the amount of years he’d been alive. Those stupid brain dead therapists that knew nothing but the idiotic lines he was fed. He hated the reminder. He hated it so much he wanted to snap at Mabel. He almost wanted to hurt her. But he continued on anyway, even if he had to force himself to talk through grit teeth. He would make Ford understand.

“I feel…confused and upset. I don’t understand what to do. If nothing can fix this. Why are we even trying?”

Ford huffed, “Bill I want to try. I want things to work but not because I want to fix the past but because I like the new you. You are emotional and vulnerable and you think about other people now. You see all these things as a weakness but it’s what keeps me coming back. I feel like I see the real you now. Not the monster wrapped up in hate and shame. We can’t fix the past, Bill. It’s too broken. I realize that now. I can’t expect you to heal all the wounds I have. It’s just not possible.”

Ford sighed, taking Bill's hands in his once more.

“I just want this to work so badly.” Bill whispered so only Ford could hear.

Ford just nodded, not knowing what to say. He wanted this to work too. He didn’t even know why. Maybe just as some proof that he hadn’t been stupid to stay so intertwined with him for so many years. Maybe it was because there was a time when he truly had been happy with Bill and he missed that so much. Maybe it was the fact that he was simply attracted to things that hurt him. Whatever the reason was, he knew one thing for certain; he and Bill were cosmically intertwined whether either of them liked it or not. At every crossroads they would find each other. They understood each other in a way nobody else ever could. They were soulmates in the barest sense of the word.

“Then work with me here, Bill,” Ford whispered back, “You’re so wrapped up in yourself and what you want me to do that you don’t see me.”

Bill sighed, squeezing Ford's hands just a bit too tight, “Okay, then help me.”

Ford thought hard about it before clearing his throat, “When you first met me, I was so isolated. I had shut myself out from everyone. My brother and I hated each other and my family didn’t care about me beyond the money I could make them. I didn’t have a single friend in the world. For a long time I told myself that I was fine like that. That I didn’t need anyone else. 

When you came along and I realized just how badly I had wanted someone to understand me, to be by my side. You thought that all I wanted from you was answers but the truth is all I wanted was companionship,” Ford paused, fiddling gently with Bill's hands, “When I learned that you had tricked me, used me, I felt so ashamed, so stupid. And I didn’t know how to handle those emotions and they quickly turned into hatred and anger. I hated you for using me but I also missed you so much. If you had come to me and apologized…god I was so weak back then I probably would have turned on the portal just to be in your arms. 

But you were so scary. You terrified me. And the more you tried to force me to do what you wanted, the more the love I had shrunk back into the depths of my heart. I’ve wasted nearly half my life on you. It keeps me up at night. I could have completed my research, become a famous scientist, maybe settled down with someone and started a family of my own. But I never got to do any of that because of you.” 

Bill listened with rapt attention, the weight of guilt slowly creeping up on him. It had taken him becoming human to realize just how hard it was. To realize that every movement and breath mattered and was important. To him everything had been a game but to Ford, it was a matter of life and death. He had stolen most of Ford's precious time on earth and Ford would never ever get it back. Bill felt the weight of every single day on his shoulders, he couldn’t even imagine what it was like to lose 30 years. He had played with Ford's emotions. He had always thought human emotions were fickle and meaningless and able to be changed with the flip of a coin. 

He knew better now. He knew what it was like to feel so deeply it drowned you.

“I’m so sorry, Stanford.” Bill whispered and for the first time he genuinely meant it. For the first time his apology truly came from the heart.

“It’s not all bad Bill. Let’s be honest if it weren't for you I probably would have never met my niece and nephew. They’re the truest family I’ve ever had besides Stanley and if I had completed my research and become successful I likely would have never spoken to them again, especially once my father came crawling to me for money. I would have never reunited with my brother. I would have never gone sailing around the world. I would have never shaken that deep belief that I was better off alone. In all the same ways that you doomed me, you saved me too. I wouldn’t go back and change what happened. I’m happy now, I’ve made my peace.”

Bill nodded, about to reply when he heard sniffles from Mabel. Both of them looked over to find her tearing up.

“I’m sorry, it's just so nice seeing your progress grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, fanning her face. 

Ford chuckled, “Thank you, Mabel. I’m glad you encouraged us to talk.”

Mabel grinned and flashed a thumbs up, “It’s my job as the one with the highest emotional intelligence.”

Bill couldn’t help but laugh. His laughter caused a chain reaction and before he knew it everyone in the room was in a fit of giggles. Everything in his life so far had been so miserable and messy and broken. But for one moment, sitting on that couch with Ford he felt the one emotion he was the most unfamiliar with; genuine joy.

That night Bill was surprised when Ford let him stay in his room. They sat cuddled up in bed while Ford journaled. Bill couldn’t resist the urge to be nosy and peek over Ford’s shoulder. He was surprised to find that Ford’s research and carefully logged retellings had morphed into diary entries and doodles. He couldn’t help but chuckle at how it reminded him of a 13-year-old girl's diary.

“What's so funny?” Ford asked, brows furrowed.

“You write like a teenager now,” Bill teased.

“Oh please I do not.”

“You might as well start your journal entries with ‘dear diary’.”

Ford laughed and pushed him, “I decided a while ago that writing books filled with forbidden knowledge was a little too risky. I got rid of my old journals and now these books are like a memoir before it's been proofread.”

“What's the point of even keeping up with the habit?”

“These journals have become a piece of me in a way. They are like a piece of my mind stored away for safekeeping. I want these books around after I die as proof of my existence. I know that might seem dumb to you. I mean your likeness is spread throughout history. Your presence is infinite. You probably must think it’s silly to immortalize myself like this.”

But it wasn’t silly to Bill. He understood perfectly. Bill was constantly afraid of dying, of being forgotten. But he would never be able to admit it. He would never be able to accept the fact that the face of death was constantly before him and all he could do was stand there, to work up the courage to spit on it. 

“Yeah I guess it is a little silly,” Bill chuckled nervously. 

“I’m sure you’ll understand one day.”

Their conversation slowly fizzled out and it wasn’t long before Bill began to drift off on Stanford’s shoulder. Unlike the cold and damp basement, Ford’s room was comfortably warm and smelt like fresh parchment and the wind just before it rained. He smelled like wood and sunlight, it made Bill feel so comfortable. He couldn’t help but be reminded of a forgotten, distant past. Of warm embraces and soft encouragement. Of blues and reds. He was fast asleep before he even realized he was dozing off and as Bill slept the most peculiar thing happened to him. For the first time in his life, Bill began to dream.

Chapter Text

Bill floated in the infinite blackness of space, voices echoing all around him. It took him a moment to even realize that he was dreaming. He had never seen his own mindscape before. He didn’t even know he had one. Before him stood two triangles, one red and one blue. Holding a small bundle in between them. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, their voices came back as jumbled gibberish, like tv static in his ears. 

“Mom? Dad?” his voice echoed but did not reach the ears of the figures. 

He tried to reach out to them but he couldn’t touch them, couldn’t get close enough. He grit his teeth and strained harder, desperate to reach them. He wanted to plead with them to turn around and look at him but he couldn’t force the words up his throat and past his lips. Their droning grew louder until the sound of deafening screams rang in his ears. He covered them but it did nothing to block out the sound. 

The image in front of him began to decay and crumble, blue flames licking at the corners like a photograph burning. He squeezed his eyes closed, unable to watch. The flames grew bigger and bigger consuming everything it touched until at last the image was gone and the screams finally died. 

Bill panted, barely able to catch his breath. Tremors wracked his whole body and he prayed that he would just wake up. 

“Good morning, my muse. I missed you.”

Bill's stomach dropped as he heard the voice ring through space. He knew that voice. It was Ford.

“S-Sixer?”

The image of a young Ford appeared before him, tangled up with a younger version of himself. His heart felt like it was being squeezed as he watched the way Ford looked at him. The image was still and unmoving, flickering like a hologram as Ford's voice continued to echo through his dream.

“You’re a genius! I don’t know what I would do without you, my Muse.”

“I love you, Bill.”

“I wish I could keep you all to myself, my Muse. I’ll be so sad when you leave to inspire someone else.”

The voice began to distort. The image morphing until an older Ford lay trapped beneath an amalgamation of a human form, shackled in glowing chains. 

“You lied to me! You tricked me!”

“I won’t rest until you’re dead, Bill! I’ll hunt you through the multiverse if I have to!”

“Our partnership is over!”

“I’ll die before I join you!”

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.

Bill screamed into the void but nobody heard him. Nobody came. He didn’t know what to do. Bill just curled up into a ball and refused to move. He couldn’t watch, he couldn’t listen. There was nowhere to hide from guilt and shame in this body. He was unsure how long he stayed like that before the world went quiet once more. But he wasn’t alone for long.

He felt his presence before the being ever made himself known.

Bill, old friend, I’ve missed you. The voice was booming, yet almost soothing, Bill unraveled himself, eyes following where his mind told him the voice was coming from.

The Axolotl loomed before Bill, huge and intimidating in its presence. Floating before a god was a lot more terrifying when you weren’t one yourself. 

“What do you want from me! What punishment do you have next?” Bill shouted, hands balled into fists.

Punishments? I have never once punished you. You may not understand but I have been nothing but a helping hand all this time.

Bill scoffed, “If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

I’m sure you’ll learn to appreciate me in time. But that’s not what I came here to discuss. I’ve been very impressed by your progress so far. It seems that the Pines are a good influence on you. Because you have been making such quick progress, I want to offer you a deal. You love deals don’t you?

Bill rolled his eyes, “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Ax.”

I didn’t mean to patronize. I do have a deal for you, if you’re interested. A way to go back to normal.

This got Bill's attention, “Normal as in…?”

I’d return you to the way you used to be. Everything just like how it was, your body, your powers, your status.

Bill felt his heart leap but he still hesitated, the Ax had already tricked him once.

“What’s the catch?”

Well I want something in return. What I ask of you is simple. You must burn a piece of the one you love at the site where death once stood still. Once this sacrifice is completed I will return you to your old form.

Bill was skeptical and confused, trying to work out what the axolotl meant. But when he went to ask questions the Ax was gone. He shouted into the inky void of space for answers but he received none in return. Suddenly he felt his body begin to drop. Falling down…

                         down…

                                       down…

                                                     down…

Until he woke up with a scream back in Stanford' s room.

“What? What happened?” Ford shot up, already on the defense. He squinted in the dark at Bill, who was still trying to remember how to breathe, “Bill? Are you alright?”

“Heh…yeah sorry, Sixer.” Bill kicked himself for the way his voice quivered.

“Did you have a nightmare? Come here.” 

Ford drew Bill close as he lay down, bringing his head to his chest. Bill realized that Ford had taken his shirt off at some point that night so now Bill's cheek was pressed against his bare chest. Bill loved how warm Ford's skin was. It felt so pleasant he couldn’t help but press his lips against Ford’s skin and inhale deeply. For the first time Bill realized that Ford smelled just like his mother. 

His dream was very quickly forgotten.

As the weeks went on, Bill, Ford and everyone else in the house slowly got used to their new-found relationship. For the first several days, people balked at the sight of Ford and Bill in close company. Dipper was especially bitter for nearly a week before Ford finally sat him down for a heart to heart that Bill was not allowed to be a part of. He wasn’t sure what the two had discussed but when it was all over Dipper actually apologized to him, albeit somewhat passive aggressively with a good ol, ‘I shouldn’t have swooped down to your level’ tacked onto the end. But Bill had chosen to ignore it. He’d have done just about anything to stay in Ford’s good graces. He had even pushed the Axolotls dream deep into the back of his brain. As long as Ford was by his side he didn’t need anything else. He could tolerate being human because Stanford was there to numb the pain. 

August was drawing to a close and with it came the huge ordeal that was the Pines twins’ 23rd birthday. Bill did not see what the big deal was. He found the concept of celebrating simply staying alive for another trip around the sun a bit idiotic. He didn’t remember his birthday let alone celebrate it and he didn’t quite grasp all of the fuss over the twins’ birthday. But he didn’t make any objections or comments and he mostly stayed out of the way. It was interesting watching the whole world buzz around him in a chaotic blur while he sat in the center of it all, completely still. 

As the twins' birthday grew closer, Bill felt a growing pit of sickness in his stomach. He wasn’t sure why it was there or how to make it go away. All he knew is that everytime he thought about the birthday party the sicker he got. 

It wasn’t until one week before the party when Bill thought he finally placed where the sickness was coming from. He was sitting at the table in the living room with Stanford when Mabel burst in through the door, cake pan in hand. 

“I made cake!” She yelled in a sing-song voice.

Bill cocked his head, trying to get a better look at what was inside the pan, “Isn’t it a little early to have the cake done?”

Mabels eyes went wide and she quickly hid the cake behind her back, it was clear in her expression that she had no idea Bill was there until he spoke up.

“Mabel, are we still doing that? It does feel a little insensitive…”

“But Grunkle Ford, it’s the ten year anniversary! We have to celebrate!” Mabel placed the pan down on the table sheepishly fiddling with her fingers, “I guess I didn’t think about Bill being here.”

Bill’s eyes went wide as he read the cake. In carefully placed black frosting it read, “I survived Weirdmaggedon!” with a frosting painting Of Bill’s old form with a monstrous row of teeth. 

“You guys…celebrate my death day?” Bill tried his best to sound casual through grit teeth and clenched fists.

“Awe Bill it’s not like that! We just celebrate the fact that it was our, not-death day!” 

Bill scowled, face bright red, “This feels a little demeaning.”

“Demeaning? I don’t know da meaning of that word, HAH” Mabel giggled but very quickly stopped when she realized Bill didn’t find the joke funny, “Don’t think of it as us celebrating liberation from you, though it totally was that. You should be celebrating this day too! As a mark of how far you’ve come!”

Bill didn’t feel like he’d come that far. He felt like this was the lowest he’d ever been if he was being quite honest. But Ford grabbed his hand and suddenly all his objections were forgotten. 

Bill figured that this must have been it. That the looming anniversary of the apocalypse was what was causing his sickness. At least now that he knew the cause he could relax and not have to worry about it. 

But the next morning it was even worse. And that dark pit continued to grow and grow and grow. Until finally it was August 31st. The day of the party.

Bill kept himself holed up in his room that whole morning, he almost wanted to stay hidden in his bed till the party was over. It took both the combined forces of Ford and Mabel to finally drag him outside. 

The party was huge and elaborate, put together with the combined powers of Mabel's craftiness, Soos’ handiness and Stan's ability to get just about anything as long as it’s obtained illegally. To Bill it seemed like every person in that small backwater down had shown up, of their own volition, to attend this party. It was loud and overwhelming and everyone seemed to be having a good time except for him. Bill clinged to Ford’s side, attached to him like a parasite. He was lucky that Ford was just as easily overwhelmed as he was. The party hadn't been going for 30 minutes when Ford steered them away from the chaos and to a quiet spot right at the edge of the woods. They were close enough to the event to still watch all the action without having to deal with all of the awful sensations that came with such an environment. 

Bill was enjoying the quiet moment alone, snuggled up to Ford when Dipper snuck away from the party and sat beside them. Bill felt a little annoyed that his peace with Stanford was being disrupted but chose to ignore it. But then Stan spotted them and came to sit as well. And then Soos and Melody joined them. And suddenly their alone time was completely shattered.

Bill just zoned out, not really listening to the conversation around him. He only caught snippets here and there until one caught his attention.

“...I’m still not used to leaving at the end of summer,” Dipper said sadly, picking at the grass

Bill furrowed his brows, sitting up straighter, “What do you mean?”

Dipper's smile grew a bit more tense, “Well you know, everyone’s leaving next week. It never really gets easier. But I’m glad I get to stay in California for the winter at least. It’s too cold up here.”

“Oh,” Bill felt that growing pit that had been stuck in his stomach for days completely consume him. He felt almost faint.

“You…you knew everyone was leaving at the end of the summer right? I kinda just assumed you knew,” a look of genuine worry spread across Dipper's face. Bill knew that the worry was not for him, but for his reaction.

Bill laughed and it was the fakest laugh that had ever escaped his mouth, “Yeah kid, of course I knew. What am I, an idiot?” he laughed again, hoping it would sound more convincing this time. It didn’t.

Oh my god. I’m so stupid.
Of course everyone was leaving. God, why had he been so stupid as to think otherwise. No, deep down he knew everyone was leaving. He knew all along and had just refused to acknowledge it. That’s why he had been sick all that time. He had been a fool to think otherwise. Of course everyone was leaving. They always left. Everyone always leaves. Bill could barely hear what was going on around him, it felt almost like he was leaving his body. It wasn’t until Ford grabbed his shoulder that he came back to reality.

“Bill, are you okay?” Ford said softly.

“What?” 

“You’re crying. Are you okay?”

Bill brought his hand to his face and sure enough tears were flowing in steady streams down his cheek. His face burned with humiliation. Of all the times for his body to betray him, why did it have to be now? 

“Hah! Stupid human bodies, always doing things against it’s owners will. It’s probably the wind,” Bills lies became especially unconvincing the moment he started having to choke back sobs. 

Bill rose to his feet and Ford was quick to follow. 

“Bill, what’s wrong?”

“God, Sixer! It’s nothing! You’re over thinking things. I don’t understand how this stupid human body works.” 

Ford didn’t look convinced, likely because despite all his insistence that he was fine, tears were still streaming down his face.
“Bill please just talk-”

“I said I was fine, Stanford!” The words came out much harsher than Bill had intended. Seeing no way to backtrack from his outlash, he pushed Ford away from him with enough force to send him stumbling backwards and quickly made his way back to the house. It wasn’t until the gift shop door slammed behind him that Bill let the sobs fully overtake him. He dropped to his knees and sobbed, loud, ugly sobs with his head in his hands.

Why did everyone leave him? Why? It just wasn’t fair. He sobbed harder thinking about his family, his home, his henchmaniacs, the Axolotl, Stanford. They all left. They all gave up on him. Everyone always left him.

I do have a deal for you, if you’re interested. A way to go back to normal.

The words that the axolotl had told him rang through his head so vividly that Bill was almost scared he was back in the axolotls realm again. 

He had done his best to ignore the dream and resist the temptation to solve the Ax’s riddle. But now, he was going to be left completely alone. He had told himself that everything would be okay as long as Stanford was by his side. And he was leaving too. What was he going to do?

The sobs renewed at this thought, despite Bill's desire to shut his body up, he just couldn’t stop crying. 

It took awhile but he finally calmed himself down and dragged himself up off the floor. Now with a clearer mind it became obvious to him what must be done. If everyone was just going to leave him at the end of the summer, he would simply leave first. He was done, he didn’t need to be here any more. The Axolotl had given him the perfect way out. 

You must burn a piece of the one you love at the site where death once stood still.

The riddle still stumped him a bit. Burning an actual part of a human seemed a little excessive for the Ax. So what on earth could he have meant instead?

These journals have become a piece of me in a way. They are like a piece of my mind stored away for safekeeping.

Ford's words popped into his mind almost as soon as he pondered the riddle. A large grin appeared on his face as he realized that the Ax must have wanted him to burn the book. With almost all good will towards Ford forgotten, Bill crept towards Stanford’s room. The house was dark and all the shadows seemed to be judging him. He did his best to ignore it as he stood outside the bedroom. For some reason he couldn’t bring himself to go inside for several long moments. A small voice of reason that he thought he had killed a long time ago scolded him for ever even considering burning Ford's journal. But Bill pushed that voice back into the depths of his mind and continued forward. Just his luck, Ford's most recent journal was sitting, open, on Ford's desk. Bill picked it up and slammed it close, not wanting to risk whatever was written there making him feel more guilty. He next slipped over to Stanley’s side of the room. Rifling underneath his bed for a lighter, feeling grateful for the old man's bad habits.

He held one item in each hand. They felt weighty like a gun. Like an instrument of destruction. Like a noose in his hands. 

Bill snuck out the backdoor and slipped in the forest. He had been unsure before but he was certain now where the Ax wanted him to go. So he walked in a daze through the forest with only the lighter to guide his way. 

The clearing where his physical form had stood frozen looked exactly the same as the day he died. He felt as if nothing had really changed other than the fact that his body which had once been frozen in stone was now gone. Bill couldn’t even tell where the statue had been, the earth had already grown over the indents in the soil. The earth had forgotten him too. But he knew he was in the right place. He could feel the magnetic pull dragging him right to the spot. Bill held out the journal and flicked open the lighter. He cursed the way his hands shook as he lit it, how badly he trembled as he held the flame to the corner of the book. He couldn’t hesitate, he couldn't feel guilty. He couldn’t handle another family leaving him behind. He needed to leave first. 

Bill brought the lighter closer and tears began to slip down his face as he watched the papers curl away from the heat as if the book was desperately trying to escape its own fiery death. He was about to bring the lighter closer still but the sound of a twig snapping right behind him caused him to startle and drop the lighter. 

“Leave it.”

Bill froze, halfway crouched towards the ground. He slowly turned, holding the journal close to his chest. He didn’t know what he expected when he turned around, but he most certainly didn’t expect to come face to face with the cold fluorescent bulb of a memory gun.

Chapter Text

Bill and Ford stood frozen in the clearing, both unsure of what to do. Bill couldn’t even look at Ford, his eyes were transfixed on the memory gun pointed in his direction. Even from his vantage point he could tell that the gun was already set. His name transcribed on the side.

“I don’t even know what to think. I thought something was wrong when you ran off but really Bill? Burning my belongings? Why? Just to be cruel?”

Ford’s face was nearly expressionless, his eyes being the only thing to betray just how hurt he was.
“Sixer, it’s not like that. I..I just…” Bill chewed his lip unsure of how to explain himself and still avoid his mind being erased.

“Then explain, Bill! No more lying!” Ford’s eyes brimmed with tears as he spoke. 

Bill looked down at the book, the Axolotls words still ringing in his head. He wanted to leave so badly. Bill straightened up and took a step forward. Ford tightened his grip on the gun but did not move. 

“I’m sorry, Stanford. I really am.”

Bill sighed and raised the book, bringing it down as hard as possible on the memory gun. Stanford yelped in pain, dropping the gun. Bill kicked it as hard as he could against the trees before diving for the lighter. Ford dove for the gun. Both scrambled in the grass before whipping around to face each other. Bill held the lit lighter to the book, the corner bubbled and singed. Ford aimed the gun at Bill's face. For a second both stood off waiting to see what the other would do.

“Don’t shoot! It will be cinders before I ever forget my own name.”

“Don’t do this, Bill. Are you really going to throw away everything for…for…” Ford trailed off as he tried to wrap his mind around what it was exactly Bill was doing, “Please just talk to me. I thought…nevermind. Just give me the book.”

Ford lunged forward, grabbing the book. Bill did not relinquish his hold and instead grabbed Ford’s shoulder and yanked him down where his knee collided with his stomach. Ford doubled over but quickly recovered and landed a hard punch to Bill's jaw. Bill stumbled back, dropping the book which tumbled away in the grass. Both men shared a brief panicked glance before diving in tandem towards it. Limbs flailed and punches and kicks landed blindly as they fought over the book like two school boys.

“Why can’t you just tell me, Bill? What terrible plan do you have this time? What idiotic thing are you selfishly fighting for?”
Bill didn’t answer, his only response a full powered punch to Ford's jaw. 

Ford was strong and skilled but Bill fought with the tenacity of a cornered alley raccoon. Suddenly Ford understood why his brother had walked away from his fight with Bill so scraped up. Bill's punches were wild and violent and full of desperation. Even if he knew deep down that he would lose in the end Bill just kept fighting until he physically could anymore. He didn’t know when to quit. Despite Ford's best efforts it took a few minutes of fighting before he could finally get Bill pinned to the grass. Ford would almost be impressed with Bill's raw chaotic energy had he not been so pissed.

“No more games, Bill. No more fighting me. Tell me the truth, now ”

Bill squirmed and kicked, unable to truly admit defeat. But when Ford didn’t budge he sighed, dropping his head into the dirt. 

“I don’t want to.”

“I can still erase your mind, you know.”

Bill rolled his eyes and grit his teeth, dreading monologuing like some pathetic villain, “ Fine. I told you when I first came that I was here because I wanted to make amends. Well I’m sure you knew from the get-go that I was lying. Truth is I was sent here by a higher power, the Axolotl. He kept me locked up in a hellscape he called the ‘Theraprism’ all this time hoping that I’d learn some lesson and change for the better. Well it obviously didn’t work. I cycled through doctors faster than a watermill cycles through water. I kept destroying things, inciting riots, killing my fellow inmates and trying to escape,” Bill huffed, watching as the grass bent away from his breath, “So I guess he eventually decided that I was more trouble than I was worth and I'd be better as someone else's problem. He sent me here instead and told me this was my last chance. I either change for the better or I’ll die and it will be permanent.”

Ford listened with disbelief, unsure of how to feel. He had always thought of Bill's story of coming back to life just to make amends as full of bullshit but Ford could not see any prison holding Bill Cipher for very long. Even with his doubts, he found it hard to believe that Bill was lying. His story felt so absurd to be fake. Bill was a masterful liar when his back wasn’t against the wall. He crafted his lies to be as realistic as possible, weaving truth and fiction together until you couldn’t tell which way was up and which was down. If Bill was lying then his skills had truly deteriorated. 

“So I did my best to just fake it. Everyone wanted me to be different. So I tried so hard to be different. I really fooled everyone, I even fooled myself.” Bill laughed, fighting back the tears, “The Ax told me there was a way out. And all I had to do was burn the journal. And I could leave this all behind. Be myself again and answer to nobody. I sat on his offer for weeks! I ignored the temptation because I thought as long as I had you, I didn’t need to go anywhere.” Bill buried his head in the grass and began to sob again. He didn’t even care how foolish he looked, it hurt too much to hold it all back, “But now you’re leaving me! You all are! Everyone always leaves me…it’s just not fair. I really tried this time. I tried so hard and in the end I’m still going to be completely alone. Why do the people I love have to leave me?”

Bill sobbed harder, not even realizing the confession he had just made. 

“The people you…what…?” Ford said softly.

There was a moment of silence as both processed the words that had just come out of Bill’s mouth. Had he really just confessed to loving the Pines? Ford? Anyone? The notion seemed absurd even to Bill himself. Could he even love anyone? Was that a thing he was capable of doing?

“Nothing! Nevermind. Just forget it. Just erase my mind so I don’t have to remember saying that.”

“Oh, Bill.” Ford couldn’t help but roll his eyes and shake his head at Bill's melodrama. 

Against his better judgment Ford released his hold of Bill and sat in the grass beside him. It took him a second to make sure Bill wasn’t going to fight him again before he brought the other man into his arms and let him sob into his shoulder.

“You don’t actually care…nobody does. None of you actually want me to be better! You’re just scared of me. I was so stupid to think otherwise.”

Ford had to stifle a laugh, not because the situation was particularly funny, but because it was just so absurd. To have Bill Cipher cradled in his arms while he cried like an infant. 

“Oh Bill, you truly think after all this that we don’t want you getting better? I would love more than anything if I could sail away next week and not have to worry about you blowing something up or wrecking the town or summoning your friends to come rescue you or you pulling some shit like this again? Bill, I want you to be a good person more than anything in the world. Not just so I can justify the fact that I’m still so stupidly chasing your tail or the fact that I of all people let my guard down. I don’t just want you to be better so I can finally sleep peacefully at night. I wish more than anything I could fully believe in my heart that you are good so I would never have to worry about you hurting anyone ever again. But it’s more than that. You’re family now, to all of us. Whether we like it or not we’re stuck with you.” Ford laughed but Bill just glared up at him through tears, “A real family will always want to see you at your best. A real family will do as much work as possible to see you there. It took me a long time to learn that myself. We all want you to be a good person, Bill. But you’re still too wrapped up in denial and shame to truly believe that there even is a good person inside you. Is that really the way you want to live forever?”

Bill sniffled, feeling so foolish, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not leaving forever, Bill. I will always come back home.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Ford chuckled softly, “I know.”

Bill laughed humorlessly, “And the worst part is, deep down I knew full well that this was all a test. I was more willing to face whatever happened when I burned that book then stay here. I feel so stupid. If you hadn’t tried to shoot me again I probably would be back in prison…or worse.”

Ford just nodded along, unsure of how to answer or if he was even supposed to. He almost understood where Bill was coming from. He knew how hard it was to be left completely alone. To watch all your loved ones leave without ever saying goodbye. His brother left him without a word. His parents had died while he was in the portal. His only friend turned tail and ran when he realized the great evil they were up against. He had hated saying goodbye to the twins at the end of that first summer. Part of him had feared they would never come back. 

Ford held Bill for a while longer, listening to the distant sounds of the party that they had both abandoned. He couldn’t help but feel a little bitter that Bill had taken up so much of his summer. But for once he didn’t feel like all that time was wasted. It was the first time in his life he had ever gotten somewhere productive with Bill. It was the first time he felt like they were on equal playing fields. He had truly meant what he said; Bill had wormed his way into their home. He was part of the family now. For better and for worse. 

When Bill had finally calmed down enough, Ford and Bill walked hand and hand through the woods until they finally returned back to the party. By now most of the crowd had gone home. Now it was just Dipper and Mabel up on the karaoke stage singing some old pop song that Bill vaguely knew the words to while Stan, Soos, Melody, Wendy and Robbie all cheered them on. Bill didn’t know what he was going to do when tomorrow came. He didn’t know what would happen when summer was over and everyone he cared about was gone. But for now, at least he could party a little bit with what little family he had left. 

September marked the end of summer and the beginning of a desperate scramble to make sure all ducks were in a row before it was time for everyone to go back to their normal lives. Everyone bustled around the house in a frantic scurry to pack and book flights and plot maps and stock up on supplies. In the chaos Bill slowly faded into the background. Ford hadn’t acknowledged their fight in the forest or Bill's emotional confession of love. Part of Bill was fine with that. He didn’t quite know how to face the love he held deep in his gut. And he definitely didn’t know how to face the fact that despite getting ‘better’, he was still constantly making mistakes. He was fine with letting it lie for now. He chose to believe that they’d come back to it when they were both ready. 

Bill tried his best to tell himself that he was going to be fine with everyone leaving, part of him wished that he had just taken the Axolotls deal and dealt with whatever cosmic punishment waited on the other side. Death would have been better than watching another family leave him behind. He repeated over and over that it wasn’t going to be forever and that eventually everyone would come back but it felt like another lie. It didn’t feel real. He felt so abandoned.
But despite all that, Bill still took it upon himself to help throw a party for everyone who was leaving town. For the first time in a while he thought back to his first time attempting to sweep and couldn’t help but laugh at how far he’d come. He had always thought of change as a way of admitting defeat. To become different was to admit that who you were before was wrong. He had liked who he was before. But he liked who he was better now. 

He knew at the end of this party he’d have to say goodbye to all the people who helped him get this far, and it stung a lot. He would never admit it to himself but these people had been his crutch and now he was being forced to walk on his own. He didn’t know how to say goodbye. He never had to before. 

Finally the time came and the sickness that Bill had felt all before the party came with it. He felt nauseous watching everyone gather on the porch with their suitcases. He hated watching them all say goodbye to each other. He hated every second of this. He hated goodbyes. 

But despite that he still accepted the bone-crushing hugs from Stan and Mabel. He even accepted the begrudging handshake from Dipper. He may have hated every goodbye that came his way but at least for once these goodbyes didn’t feel like being forgotten. He knew he’d be on his family's mind for the next nine months that they were apart. 

Ford even kissed him for the first time in front of everyone. He didn’t have a hint of shame as he wrapped his arms around Bill's waist and pulled him in for a kiss. And despite all the jeering in the background, Bill kissed him back with all the passion that his crooked heart could muster. 

Bill couldn’t help the tears that flowed as he watched everyone drive off in their respective cars. He felt like a piece of him was leaving for the rest of the year and he was just going to have to learn to live without it. 

But despite all the pain, he didn’t feel like dying. 

For the first time in his whole entire life, Bill knew he was going to be okay.

Chapter Text

I can’t believe I’m saying this but thats the end! This is the first fic I have ever seen through to the end in all my years of fanfic writing and I am so proud of myself for seeing this one through. 

If you had told me at the start of all this that my stupid self indulgent redemption arc would get people to show up in DROVES I would have never believed you. I still can’t believe that 13 HUNDRED people took the time to give love to my fic.

For all the people who left comments and encouraged me to keep going thank you! It’s very hard for me to complete these kinds of projects and you guys are literally the reason I kept going.

Thanks to my Betas:

necrotic_bones

valerian_valentine

And CountryCryptid

For all your hard work

If you really liked this fic be sure to check out my instagram @grassfedclowns where I am constantly posting new content about this AU. 

I know an afterword like this is a little out of the norm for A03 but I just wanted to thank you all for everything. It’s been a blast.