Chapter Text
“WHAT?!” Bill shouted at the top of his lungs, his eye going red, “You want me to go live as a human?!” he spat, another wrinkle forming just above his eyelid.
“You heard me, Bill,” The Axolotl spoke calmly towards Bill. “This is your punishment. It will be good for you. I promise. Plus, I’ll even let you into contact with that human you liked so much.”
Bill rolled his eye, crossing his arms, “Pssh, I hate all of those flesh sticks. They’re all worthless beings!”
“What about the one they call Stanford?” The Axolotl questioned.
“What,” Bill’s face fell flat. Stanford? That backstabbing asshole? The one whose brother tried to kill him? Hell no! He didn’t want to see him for shit. “Why in hell would I ever want to see HIM?! I hate him! He stabbed me in the back!”
“The drawings in your room beg to differ. Plus, I heard from one of your peers that they heard you talking about him last night.”
“Oh come on! You seriously think that I was talking good about that sad sack?!”
“No, I think you were talking about how guilty you felt.”
Bill sputtered, “What?! That’s crazy! I would never.”
“You’re becoming quite defensive.”
“You don’t know anything!”
“I know everything.”
Bill felt his eye twitch and he wanted to pounce on that stupid axolotl and shout that he was the god here! But the chains stuck to his legs held him back. So, with a defeated sigh, he relaxed a bit, looking away from The Axolotl.
“My decision is final, Billy,” The Axolotl told the demon.
“When do I leave?” Bill asked, his monotone voice making him seem like he didn’t care much for the arrangement that was being set up for him.
“Next week.”
“That early?!”
“Do you want a chance to prove yourself or stay here for the rest of eternity?”
He paused, “Fine…”
“That’s what I thought.”
As The Axolotl left Bill’s quarters, the dream demon looked over at the ever growing piles of drawings scattered around his room. Many taped the walls and floor, while all the others were in each and every crevice. It was Bill’s way of keeping himself from going even more insane than he already was. And it helped, for a little. But sometimes he’d get deep into thought about Ford, or his parents, and he’d lose it. Trying to rip the chains off his legs, crying, disturbing others, ripping apart drawings just to tape them back together later, and singing that tune he sang. It made him want to rip off his skin – or lack of, for a better term. But now the thought of seeing Stanford again was driving him up the walls. Was it mandatory for his recovery/punishment, or was it just a suggestion? He hadn’t had enough time to ask. And not to mention, a human form! That sounded like crazy talk. Bill Cipher? A multidimensional god, as a human? That’s your best one yet!