Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

Bill found himself drifting in a void. Nothing but a vague starry mass of color surrounding him on every side. Well, almost every side. Before him drifted a pink form, large enough to swallow him whole without a second thought.

It innocently blinked its dark round eyes. “Bill Cipher, in all of our years of knowing one another, I have never once tried to eat you.”

“Hey, I was just trying to give the readers a good frame of reference, Frills,” Bill flinched as he spoke, finding that not only was it difficult to speak, but that his entire area burned. What little he could still feel, at least. His eye widened briefly as he noticed for the first time that parts of his angles were divorced from the rest of his body. The pieces drifted in and out of reach. It invoked the image of a broken glass in the sink. “Anyhow, you could always change your mind. I mean, c’mon. What’s a little snack between a few old pals- huh?” He laughed, eye narrowed in feigned humor. As if he was trying to sell the image of the sly shape he normally was. 

It seemed to heave a sigh at that. To The Axolotl, Bill was nothing but another Icarus. Plummeting into the ocean below.

“You really don’t understand, do you, Bill?”

The triangle looked up to him with his one tired eye. “What I understand is that you said I could call you- you gonna help, or not, Frill’s?” Bill then started nervously playing with his hands, pushing them together and then picking under invisible nails. He looked away.” Y’know, if you really meant it.”

Yes, The Axolotl did say this. Many eons ago, while Bill floated in the wreckage of his home. In what would later form the nightmare realm. That was when they had become truly acquainted with the shadow on the wall. He was nothing more than a lost being, then, not unlike how he stood before it now. It was a sight, and so The Axolotl could not help but speak to him. What it was able to get out of him about the destruction of his world was very little, and Bill had even less to say about how he had survived. All he had to say was that his dimension was liberated, eye wide in shock as if he couldn’t believe it for himself.

The young shadow on the wall had seemed so small and quiet to it at the time. A far cry from the boisterous, larger than life, pseudo-god and entity of calamity that it would later become familiar with. It had been hard to ignore the poor thing. The choice was obvious, and so The Axolotl had picked him up without a word and brought him to the closest dimension that could care for a displaced being. The Axolotl did not want to leave him, and so it offered him the chance to invoke its name should he need anything.

Bill had never once invoked its name before this moment, not even when he was banished to his nightmare realm. And not when he found himself alone, time and time again. It was always a disappointment to see, but The Axolotl waited nonetheless.

“I did. I meant every word of it.” And The Axolotl did. However, it was no fool. They knew how Bill had ended up in their tank. Seen what he had done to countless people and worlds. The manipulations, the lies, and the torment inflicted. All cultivating in his final experience in Gravity Falls, Oregon, Earth . His near success at tearing that world asunder in a facsimile of a party. Then, when the right authorities had come to interrupt, Bill had done something not thought possible for an entity of his stature, and killed a god. 

Everywhere he went, he brought nothing but destruction. This would have to change. Bill could not be allowed to continue doing this, no matter how fond The Axolotl was of this little shadow. 

“All I need is something from you.

A Promise

Spoken true.”

“Anything,” There was a spark of light before a flame billowed out from his outstretched hand. 

The Axolotl chuckled, “That will not be necessary, Bill. I will hold you to your word.” It blinked down at him as he dismissed the flame. “Have you ever heard of Theraprism?”

The Theraprism was an interdimensional maximum security prison, located in dimension #5150, the so-called neutral zone. Wedged between two dimensions, and outside of time authority. Few had the clearance to be there, and fewer had even heard of it. Its mission statement, according to Frills, was to rehabilitate even the most hardened criminals. Granting them “the tools they needed to achieve inner peace, and move on from this life to the next,” it was reincarnation. The Axolotl, highest authority in the entire universe, had seen fit to stick Bill Cipher into a criminal psych ward that specialized in recycling criminals into new life, like they were simply scooping out meat for discounted deli sashimi. Uegh.

Bill was no stranger to a good time, but there was a difference between going to get his brains scrambled by a friend with the right equipment, and just permanently removing himself from existence and turning into a moth or something. He had invoked Frill’s name in order to survive, not… whatever this was. (Seriously, who goes through therapy just to die? Wasn't that sorta the opposite of the point of going to therapy?)

No, he just had to go through with this just long enough to get Frills off his case about it, then he could escape. Reach out to his henchmaniacs or one of his loose threads, and get them to bail him out. 

Adjusting to the constant monitoring and rigid scheduling of the Theraprism was easier said than done. Bill had spent the majority of his long life in-between dimensions, dodging authorities and wreaking havoc in the feeble minds of whatever poor saps he could get his hands on. Regular meal times and sleep were far from priority, to say the least of it. Nevermind that his species didn't need either of those things with any regularity.

Did the Theraprism listen? No. They instead subjected him to a million tests. Everything from blood draws, to organ samples. They apparently consulted dozens of similar species and from there decided on a “care plan” just for him.

One meal a day, consisting primarily of protein and calcium, along with this weird mineral dust. They slipped it into his water along with his pills, making it a weird, chalky slurry. And then after that he was given two hours under the sun lamp with the other photosynthesizers, the time was spaced between four trips a day. With armed security chaperoning him to his own dedicated corner. 

Perfectly understandable, considering the time he'd tried bludgeoning another patient to death. The loose watering pipe adorning the floor of the place made a convenient weapon. He spent a long time in the solitary wellness void for that one. Not that the victim didn't have it coming. Some people were just never taught that staring was rude, were they?

Between meal times, Bill was either taken back to his room, or made to partake in whatever activities were being held. It was at the discretion of whichever doctor was assigned to him that day. So oftentimes he was doing arts and crafts, or was made to read in the library. He used to be forced to sit in at mushy, touchy, feely group therapy sessions, but thankfully they saw reason and quit subjecting him to that the second time he incited a riot. Because one was not enough for these people. They just had to keep pushing it.

At the end of his day he was sent to his room in the maximum security ward. On the outside, it was nothing more than a metal box, with bars set up in front of it, and a secondary door. Both had codes for the locks. Which were entered while Bill was made to turn around, cover his eye, or whatever. Any attempts to take a peak has long since been prevented anyways. Frills had seen fit to remove the majority of Bill's acquired power, including his ability to see through depictions of himself. He'd looked like an IDIOT holding a macaroni encrusted paper he'd snuck out of the art therapy room to his back.

The guard's laughs still echoed in his mind like the vicious and humiliating mockery it was. They had been so amused by his attempt at getting the codes that they'd left the incident unreported. A regular had even said she'd taken it home and still had it at her desk. 

In any other circumstance Bill would have had her cough up her internals, all tangled up like scarves. He would have made her pull them out herself, like the clown she was. Really put on a show.

But being underestimated was one of the few things he had left in his pocket, so he let it be. Let them laugh.

They'd come to regret it soon enough. 

The inside of Bill's cell was nothing special. Four walls, lined in white padding. There was nothing else save for a bed, bolted to the floor, and adorned with a prison grade pillow and blanket. Both choke proof if the doctors were to be believed, not that Bill cared to test it.

It was in the small space underneath the bed, shoved between two loose pad tiles where Bill had stashed what he needed. A small scrap book from his journaling sessions, along with a pack of colored markers arranged in a rainbow. The scrap book was fully allowed in his room, some shit about how “arts and crafts is a healthy outlet for him” or something to that effect. What was not allowed was the pair of scissors, and neither was the razor head. The scissors had been from the crafts room, while the razor had apparently come from the personal effects of one of the more hairier inmates- this one had been unused. It had taken him several weeks of playing nice with several fellow patients to get his hands on all of this. A few exchanges, and a deal here and there.

Bill grabbed the few empty pieces of paper, his back turned to the security camera. Normally he had the time to make whatever he wanted before it was lights out. The therapists called it the “Therapeutic Journaling” Art and Crafts hour. Bill called it a waste of time- and a concerningly convenient breach of security. 

Soon they would see, they would all see.

It was a simple spell, something any invertebrate with half a brain and the right tools could do. Hence how Frills could do little to prevent him from trying it. All it did anyways was allow him to contact his followers and acquaintances through writing. Sometimes a book, and other times the backside of a takeout menu. Whatever he thought and subsequently wrote would appear to them. An imperfect method of communication by far, but a girl would have to make due.

Without much ceremony, he pricked his finger on an empty piece of paper. The bleeding was quickly stifled by the pressure of his finger on the page. 

In the past few days, he'd done nothing but try to reach out to a particular… former friend. One human going by “Stanford Pines.” Once a devoted follower and prospective henchmaniac, he'd become nothing but a pain in the vertices for the past few decades ever since Bill's true intentions with his portal had come out. Old Sixer had taken it so personally that he had deemed his world just perfect for a party. You'd think he'd tried killing his family or something! Oops, wait. He SO did. It was almost like Sixer had locked him from his mind and life or something, completely backing out on his promises and obligations like a coward! And then as the icing on the cake he sicced his pathetic little family on him. Oh, how Bill wanted nothing more than to make the Pines pay. He could do anything once he got his hands on them. If Sixer had simply helped him out of here, he might have considered sparing them for maybe a fraction of a second. But Stanford had done nothing but ignore him since he'd oh so graciously reached out. 

This time, Bill decided to move on, thinking of no one in particular as he wrote his message. It quickly disappeared, leaving behind a faint trace of ink on the page where he'd previously written. Welp, whoever had gotten the message had wasted no time in reading it.

Bill put the pen back to the paper, but was surprised to see that there was a familiar script already halfway down the page. Cursive neatly penned with an off red ink. Classic Stanford Pines.

Oh this was going to get interesting. 

There were several pages that were written, addressed to a reader that Bill was excited to learn were as unknown to Ford as they were to him. Sixer went on about Bill's previous attempts to contact him through the aptly nicknamed “Book of Bill.”

Bill was relieved to eventually see when Ford had signed off his name. Finally! That dweeb could go on for days if there wasn't anyone to stop him. 

He left basic instructions of his own. In order to more effectively communicate, he needed some small offerings. Nothing much. Only a name, some blood, and a little light ritual chanting. 

It barely took a minute before a name was shakily written into the blank space left on the page. There was also a smudgy thumbprint beside it, thick and bright red. 

That immediately narrowed this down to some sort of human follower, likely from one of his cult offshoots. A plan began to form in his mind.

A few pages were dedicated to simply getting the kid up to date with who he was, being sure to litter each page with various visages of himself. They had been all too eager to summon him, and readily took his deal. They had to be insanely gullible, for one. And two, eager to offer their blood for some reason. Seriously, at every opportunity. Bill would be tempted to assume it wasn't theirs. Except for the fact that the writing was as cursed with him as it was, and only offering their real blood could do that. Cult for sure. 

Thankfully, this meant that Bill could better see. Stripping him of his power wasn't going to be enough Frills! The next few pages were littered with his face. It gave him a decent peak at what the sad sap he was dealing with. They were a fairly young human. With dark messy hair, brown eyes, and purple eye bags underneath. Their eyes traced the words on the pages several times over, and they occasionally smiled at the contents in between sniffling and wiping their eyes. Oh, ew. Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew. They were crying. At least, they had to have been crying earlier. What did they think this was, therapy?

Nope, time to put his cards on the table. Infinite power, knowledge, the secrets of the universe, etc, etc… Whatever they could possibly ask for.

Their eyes went wide, and Bill could see they did actually have a red pen. Perfect. The test was easy enough to throw together, seeing as it was a dummy anyways. 

They seemed to be thinking, looking at that first page. Apparently they were going to take the dummy test seriously.

They assigned the illusion as a “duck,” pointing to the lil guy on the right. That was not one of the answers he’d proposed. Nice, okay. So they could think about the outside of the box while sitting squarely in it. Not the brightest he’s ever worked with. But it would do.

Then the riddle of getting the depressed cube out of the house. Their answer was “Sleep in my car w/ me.” Yeesh, okay.

The procrastinating woodchuck was answered similarly. This time, it was not a complete sentence. They just wrote “adderall,” and nothing else. This answer seemed to satisfy them. Bill couldn’t hear them, but he could see them chuckling and sniffling some more.

The word search puzzle was where they seemed to give up and just drew the S shape. They then proceeded to skip to the number he wanted them to divide in half. What Bill honestly expected them to do was to skip it over. Maybe pull up a calculator. Label it a duck too if they were feeling it.

Their answer surpassed his expectations by a longshot. They took their red pen and drew a horizontal line through it, cutting it cleanly in half. When prompted to come up with an alibi, all they did was write “good luck,” and turn the page. They bailed without giving any of the other questions a second thought! Truly a human after his own heart.

Loyalty didn’t matter a whole lot anyways, not for what Bill needed them for.

The next dozen pages go by with nothing of note happening. More explaining his past, his enemies, and what he needed them to do for him. Hell, he even dropped some of the discarded pages of Ford’s oooh so important journal. Just for the heck of it. Humans liked being beheld to secrets.

Their eyes lit up in surprise, head settled in the crook of their arm as they continued to read. Some of the pages describing Ford’s plans of backing out of their deal did nothing to inspire awe or even terror. Just brows furrowed in determination. He knew he made the right choice when he began to tamper with their mind! Nothing too invasive. It was only a tiny bit of finagling with the parts associated with shame, fear, and he even threw out the pain receptors just to be nice.

That was enough of that. Bill began to outline his own plans. No sooner than after he’d asked if they were with him, they turned the page and- oh would you look at that? Another stupidly, precisely handwritten note from Sixer. Ugh- found his happiness, Bill’s ass. Sixer was so still obsessed with him. It was clear as day! Even with that stupid picture of his family. Sixer was SO not over him.

Bill was just about to start putting together another page when it changed again. This time, it was like a technicolor barf on the page. A staple of Mabel Pines. How…Lovely… His eye twitched as he read what she had to say to him. Apparently she was under the impression that HE was the one obsessed with her uncle. And then she had the gall to leave a skillfully rendered (in stylistic context!) drawing of herself dunking him in a bowl of guac and taking a bite with the force to cleave his eye in half. If Bill wasn’t fuming he might have to hand it to her, she was a freak like the best of them. Really a chip off the old block.

The accompanying page was of course from her twin brother. Charged with unearned confidence, but not enough that he was above letting his sister use his page. Well, well, well. What a time to grow a spine, Pine Tree. Not .

The human seemed to snort, rereading Mabel’s page before turning it.

Oh would you look at that. Stanley Pines. The loser con-man. Unwanted and quite frankly unneeded. He was the lesser twin who had needed to steal his brother’s entire identity and life. All in order to take 30 years to get that portal up and running again. 30 years was no big deal to Bill of course, barely a hiccup in the grand scheme of things, but he knew it was a lot of time for a human. He knew that Ol’ Fordsy could have figured it out no problem. Stanley Pines was really the lesser twin in about every aspect. And he had the AUDACITY, the NERVE, to call his life a joke. Calling Bill a ghost. To say that he was just anyone.

Stanley was the washed up con artist. Stanley was the unwanted family failure. There was nothing he could do to Bill, and he was a fool to think that a punch to the face would be enough to stop him.

Then he felt it. The barest bones of hesitation in the mind of this human.

Bill was losing his connection to the reader on the other side. This was the Pines. This was Stanley and his stupid little family. He grabbed at his pen, dropping it and only coming up with a scribble by the time the pen met paper. The glue stick and subsequent pieces of collage met the paper in a similarly messy way. When he got his hands on the Pines - before he could finish that thought, he heard a click. Heavy footsteps on the concrete floor, followed by the click of the second door. It started to creak open.

No. NO. This could not be happening right now- he needed more time. Just another minute! 

Is this really what they wanted to see? That no one had been willing to bail him out? No one was willing to so much as call him? 

Fine. Snip, snip. There goes some of their most cherished memories together. 

It wasn’t long before a guard and a doctor were both in the room, and Bill was being restrained while the doctor picked up the book and confiscated his supplies. Even the pen was eventually wrestled out of his hand. 

Bill did not stop trying to bite as he was dragged out to the wellness solitary void.

Chapter Text

This road trip was not Dusk’s plan for his weekend. But when he had found this odd book amongst his old college textbooks in the rusted over trunk of his old station wagon, he had been more than a little curious. Especially as the thing was covered in this weird goopy substance that had absolutely ruined his other books, so it wasn’t like he had anything else to read anyways. 

That was what he had been up to a week ago. Car parked in a parking lot as out of sight as he could manage. He had been struggling to sleep that night, and the mysterious book sat in the glove compartment. It had long since been cleaned off. Surprisingly, there was not a single ounce of damage on the thing, and it didn’t seem to damage anything other than his books, so he wasn’t worried about that. What was a little concerning was how it got into his trunk to begin with. When he had left home he had been in a rush to pack, he hadn’t noticed anyone slip a thing in. It was doubtful that anyone would have done that anyways. It was already a problem enough that he had wanted to grab his crap. So when did the book get put in his car?

Dusk examined the cover. It was a drawing of a one-eyed triangle, with a bowtie and tophat...? Weird, he had thought. It sorta looked like some kind of kid’s book, in a way. The note from the character called “Stanford Pines” did nothing to dissuade this impression. Was it a little off putting that he said the book would infect other books when he’d found the thing in a sludgy pile of books to begin with? Okay, yeah, maybe just a little. But at the time the most likely answer of someone simply breaking into his car to vandalize his belongings seemed much more feasible than the contents of the book being true. 

Dusk turned the page and actually managed to find a pen in his glove compartment, and, with some hesitation, also found his knife in his backpack. What the heck, it would give him something to do. Something other than languishing in how miserable his life was.

There was little resistance, as Dusk had remembered to sharpen his knife before… everything. He then put his thumb to the page, and the rest was history.

Now he was on the road again, having long since been kicked from that parking lot. He spent most of his days driving and referencing maps picked up from rest stops. When he wasn’t driving, he was counting the hours that it would take to reach his destination. Gravity Falls.

When he had started that book, he did not expect to be dragged into the plot of some weird entity. In spite of the endless warnings of the Pines family, though, he did want to make this deal. Every day he was trying to get as far away as possible from his old home. Bill’s promise to switch places with him, or to send him to whatever afterlife he was in, was a sweet deal. He was sure that Bill’s intentions were as horrible as he’d described. Dusk could not find it in himself to care. In his years the world had dealt him nothing but pure shit cards. What was wrong with wanting a little bit of catharsis?

Bill had said that he intended to kill the Pines, but honestly that family seemed stronger than anything. They would survive. Probably send Bill back crawling to wherever he really came from. It was a net zero loss.

It was selfish, but Dusk was selfish anyways. He may as well take what he wants, just this once.

Gravity Falls was not on his gps. It had taken speaking to some Oregon locals to get pointed in the right direction. Several tried warning him that the place wasn't right, or that the people weren't right. Dusk didn't worry too hard about it. Small towns were usually tight-knit, if not also paranoid and superstitious, right? Especially when they were so out in the middle of nowhere. From his limited recollection of his early childhood memories of living in rural Oklahoma, it sounded about right.

He made a turn off the freeway a short while ago, and was driving through a small side road when he felt a shift. Not unlike the click of a pen or the feeling of floating to the surface after a deep dive. It was a release of pressure. A little bit weird, but maybe it was just the weather. It was a lot more humid out here, after all. His ears must have been stuffy.

By the time he had dismissed the mystery in his mind, he could see the sign welcoming him into town. Dusk drove past, not noticing the police car behind the sign. It would be a few minutes later that he would actually spot it. He pulled over to the right, yielding like you're supposed to. The police car pulled up behind his vehicle. And barely a moment later two men exited the car. One was a short pudgy man with dark brown skin and a quite frankly impressively thick gray mustache, while the other was much lankier, and pale. It looked like he might be bald underneath his hat too, but Dusk couldn't tell from where he sat. Oh shit . What could these pigs possibly want?

He took a deep breath, holding his hand out on his wheel like a safety net, the other hand idly tapping on his dashboard as they approached.

“What seems to be the uh,” Dusk nervously stared at the two officers. Remembering with a jarring hyper awareness that he hadn't bathed in a week and that his clothing was even dirtier than that. He had to reek. “What seems to be the problem officers?”

The shorter of the two raised an eyebrow. “Problem?” 

“Aw man, there ain’t no problem, we just wanted to roll in the welcome committee!” The man’s gangly partner said. “We don’t get many visitors around these parts outside of tourist season, y’know?” Well, it was the tail end of winter, so it did sorta make sense.

“Oh…?” That could not be the only reason they pulled him over, right?

The shorter man seemed to catch onto the general tension in the air between them. “That’s right. I am Sheriff Blubs, and this is my partner, Deputy Durland.”

Durland seemed to beam beside the sheriff, holding his arm around the other man’s hip rather loosely. Which was- okay, sorta cute?  “We also wanted to let you y’know that our local diner has some really good coffee,” Durland began.

“And Susan baked the most delightful little pies the other night!” The Sheriff smiled.

“Um, I’m broke… and I’m just passing by anyways..” Dusk looked away, suddenly preoccupied with a random bug on the side of the front window. It looked like some kind of tree beetle. Maybe a maple bug, just by its general shape and size.

The sheriff and his deputy exchanged a look. “Why didn’t you say so? We can take you down there. It wouldn’t be a big deal.” Blubs said.

Um. Was he offering to pay for Dusk’s breakfast? The bug on the window disappeared into a space in between the window and the front trunk as he found it even harder to look at the two men. “Take me down there…?” He eventually asked, confused by the wording a little bit. It was just a weird way to put it.

“Oh, yeah! Your left tail light is out!” Durland exclaimed.

Blubs nodded. “Out, out. It looks like it got torn out between you and me. We couldn’t let you drive into town like that.”

Dusk felt a cold pit in his stomach. He was no stranger at this point to having his things vandalized, but his car was his home right now. And there was no way he could repair that with only gas money to spare- and truly it didn’t really matter in the long term anyways, but Dusk didn’t think he could walk around town looking for this statue. What if it was way out of town? It might take him days to find the thing.

His distress must be clear on his face because the two shoot him sympathetic looks. “Hey,” said Blubs. His brows were pressed together as he seemed to be trying to sound reassuring. “We have a local mechanic in town that I’m sure can help you out.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it for now. We can figure that out later. Right now it really looks like you could use some company.” Durland added.

“Okay…” Dusk loosened his grip on the steering wheel, grabbed his go bag, and stepped out of his car. His face felt warm with a level of embarrassment as he was led into the back of the police car. Something about being chaperoned into the back of a car by these two men made Dusk feel small, like some lost little kid. He found it difficult to speak, even as one of them turned on some kind of playlist over his phone. Pop and punk music with underlying queer themes, the occasional rap, and even a few country and rock songs were thrown in there. It all seemed a little random to him if he was being honest.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice that we didn’t catch your name earlier,” Blubs eventually started after a few silent minutes had passed (except for Durland who had been quietly singing the lyrics of the latest pop song to himself).

“Um, Dusk.” 

“Where were you headed before you got stuck here?” Durland piped up, trying to help his partner start conversation with the quiet young man in the back. To Dusk it felt a little too close to an interrogation. 

“Um…I… I made that up because I didn’t want to say I-” Dusk sweated, face feeling hot again. It was really starting to feel like Bill’s tinkering in his brain had not stuck. “I don’t like pie that much…” A lame excuse, and obviously bullshit. Dusk could not find it in himself to care. He didn’t care how badly he probably smelled right now, or how messy you could see his car was if you looked for more than two seconds. Telling people he was homeless was just out of the question. Especially not some random, albeit oddly nice, cops.

Blubs chuckled at that. “You think it’s just pie? Nope, Susan also runs a kitchen. Y’know, they actually expanded the menu recently, on account of her new staff,” Him and Durland exchanged another glance before both giggling like it was some kind of inside joke. 

“Huh…” Dusk honestly did not know what to say about that. 

They continued into town, very quickly coming upon a small building that seemed to have been carved out of what looked like the log of a douglas-fir. He also noticed it was propped on an old train cart, with a piece of track beneath it and everything. That was pretty interesting, though the name “Greasy’s Diner” did not help his appetite at all.

Dusk stepped out of the car after awkwardly having to wait to be let out. Turns out the back of the car was basically child locked. 

The three headed into the diner. Immediately the two cops are being greeted by friends and other members of the community, whether it be a “Hello,” or just a small nonverbal acknowledgement. It hit Dusk for the second time since coming out here just how small this town had to be. These two were probably the only two in their department out here. And the way they greeted the patrons back implied they knew everyone here by name. It was… certainly different than what Dusk was used to.

Blubs and Durland picked a booth by the window, just a few seats down from an old jukebox, and across from the entrance into the back of the establishment.

“Oh here she comes, lady of the hour,” Durland says as a waitress walks up to their table, pen and small spiral notebook in hand.

She rolls her eyes so far that Dusk is sure that he could easily see an eye popping out if she wasn’t careful. “Eugh, what do you want?” The girl adjusts her blonde ponytail, opening the notebook to a fresh page, and putting the pen to paper as she shoots the two of these men a hard glare.

Blubs chuckles. “Don’t give us that, we just wanted to congratulate you on the new job.”

“On account of the move and everything!” Durland continued for him with a small laugh of his own. 

“Ha, ha… Really funny. Now what can I get started for you?” 

The two older men ordered pie, of course, and a serving of coffee for Dusk, saying it looked like he could use it. They were not wrong honestly. The girl comes back a moment later with the coffee, nearly slamming the small mugs onto the table in front of him. 

“Here, it’s hot so- be careful I guess,” She pauses. Dusk felt small under her staring. “Who’s this? I hope you two know we can’t have people loitering.” She scoffs, walking off to another table without another word, refilling mugs and taking a handful of other orders.

Blubs chuckled again, nursing his own coffee close to him and blowing on it. “Don’t take it personally. She’s been having a rough time. She’s really not a bad kid.”

“Aww, you’re as sweet as sugar,” Durland cooed.

“Oh stop it, you.”

The two proceeded to bicker back and forth in the grossest display of pda that Dusk has probably ever seen. It’d turned out that the two were married and just moved into a home together, making this their honeymoon phase or something. Usually people on honeymoon didn’t do so on the job, nor did married couples generally work together, but Dusk didn’t know if he actually had it in him to judge.

By the time the young waitress, apparently named Pacifica, had come back with their pie, the subject had already changed to Dusk. Questions about where he was coming from, how long he had been on the road, and how he felt about the Oregon weather. He was relieved for the excuse to ignore their questions as Durland cut it up and passed him a serving. He took a bite. Strawberry. A little too sweet for his tastes, but the crust was soft and crumbly. It took all of maybe 30 seconds for him to inhale half of his slice.

“Wow, you sure are hungry, huh?” Durland teased.

Dusk took another bite, not slowing down for his sake. Living off gas station food was not for the faint of heart, and it had been a while since he had eaten something fresh.

There was the gentle sound of Blubs taking another sip of his coffee. It seemed like he wanted to ask another question, but he instead waited for Dusk to finish eating. Not that it took very long.

“So, you said you were too embarrassed to say you didn’t want pie, does that mean you meant to come here?” Durland was the one to start speaking first.

“Yeah, what brings you out here?”

Dusk blinks, looking straight down at the table, to the jukebox, and then down at his empty mug. Anything but look up. “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“We’re just curious, we don’t mean to interrogate you.” The Deputy said.

“It just gets boring out here, on account of how nothing happens out here. Really, it’s by law.” Something about how Blubs says this is weird .

Dusk shuffles in discomfort. There was never an excuse that he had in mind because he never planned on talking to the locals. These people were too nice for their own good. He was the last person who deserved it. After an awkward moment of silence, he spits out maybe the least feasible thing he could think of.

“I’m here to see family, um. My uncle… uncles . You might know them?”

Shit. He should have just said he was a tourist. This was so stupid.

By some miracle, the two officers bought Dusk’s lie, asking if he would like a ride after he’d finished his second mug of coffee. Of course he said yes, not really in a position to be saying otherwise unless he wanted to walk back out of town by himself.

The two men dropped Dusk off outside the Mystery Shack, wishing him luck and leaving him with their department’s number should he need help with anything. Dusk did not know what he had done to deserve this level of kindness from absolute strangers.

He walked up to the gift shop entrance, but the door opened before he could grab it himself. Standing in front of him was a familiar face. A tall older man with fluffy, graying hair, a huge crack on the lens of his glasses, a red turtleneck, and a very well loved trench coat on his back. Dusk froze as the man abruptly stopped.

“Oh, my apologies. I did not see you there.”

There was a short pause as the man stared at him. Likely wondering why Dusk was just standing there in his doorway. It was hard not to stare back. The old man really did look like he’d stepped straight out of some kind of sci-fi adventure novel. One straight out of the 70’s.

The man furrowed his brows in confusion. “Are you alright?”

“Stanford Pines…?” 

“Yes, that would be me, did you need anything?” 

Dusk took a deep breath. Not for the first time since his day started wondering what he was even doing. What had compelled him to come here? He reaches into his bag then, pulling out a particular book. It was obvious by the sharp breath Stanford took and his wide eyed gaze that he knew exactly what it was. Dusk held it forward.

“I thought I should return this. It doesn’t really seem like we can get rid of it for good, but I thought it should be contained so nobody else gets their hands on it. I thought… if anyone might know how to do that, it might be you…?” Why was Dusk honestly doing this? 

Stanford sighed, taking The Book of Bill from his hand. “I should have known it might come to this.” He ran his hand over his stubble in thought. “Thank you for bringing this to me, rather than trying to dispose of it like we had. It’s probably for the best that we know where this is so we can.. Keep this out of the hands of someone that Cipher can get his hands on.”

“Yep… my thoughts exactly, man.” Dusk closed his bag, turning to leave. If he started looking now, maybe he would find it before the sun went down.

“Hold on,” Stanford stopped him at the steps of the landing. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“...nope,” Dusk said with an exaggerated pop. “I’m not.” 

“If you need a place to stay for the night, I’m sure my family would agree that we would be happy to have you.” Stanford seemed to be giving Dusk a once over. It was immediately obvious that the old man also noticed how grody he was. 

Fuck. Fine. Dusk turned on his heel to face Stanford. “Yeah, sure,” He averted his gaze, not comfortable with making eye contact. Thankfully the other man did not see any reason to comment. “I would really appreciate that.”

The man then led him into the Mystery Shack, through the gift shop and into the living room. Where was promptly met with and introduced to Stanford’s twin brother. He looked considerably less handsome than in the pictures, sorta lounging in an old stained wife beater and an old pair of boxer shorts. But the guy was chill, and didn’t at all mind that Dusk would be saying the night.

Stanford then took him back into the gift shop, and to the vending machine. 

“Um? Stanford?” The man only shot him a small smile in response before inputting a number into the machine.

There was a whir as the vending machine moved aside, revealing a set of stairs leading down into a basement.

“Hold the phone… you have a secret entrance?” Dusk was stunned.

“Not so much a secret between us anymore, but yes.” Stanford then frowned, looking all the more tired and old for it. “Unfortunately, I will not be taking you down for a tour. I simply wanted to speak to you while I work on a solution for… containing this.”

“Oh, um, okay…” 

Dusk hesitated before following him into the basement. If Stanford Pines had any intent to hurt him, he could have simply chosen not to try and warn him about Bill. And he certainly wouldn’t have introduced him to his family. With how Stanford presented himself, it was hard to imagine him being anything other than a huge nerd with an underground lab. Dusk shoved a hand into his pocket, feeling for his knife. Even if Stanford was actually some big weirdo, he would be fine.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Stanford really did have a lab down there. It was beyond dusty, but surely enough there were all kinds of beakers, chemicals, scraps of metal strewn about, and a huge stack of papers laying haphazardly on an overfilled filing cabinet. Ford walked up to the desk, pulling up a chair for Dusk and taking a seat on his own, much more aged wheeled computer chair. 

“I apologize for the mess,” he said as he set aside a book, placing it into a drawer along with a handful of ink pens. “I had meant to tidy up down here after Stanley’s and I’s trip, but between a few projects here and Cipher’s book, I suppose time got ahead of me.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. 

Dusk shrugged. “I have no room to judge. I slept in my backseat on a pile of trash the other night,” He winced. He had not meant to share that kind of information, but something about sitting with Stanford made it come out. Maybe it was because Dusk already knew a little bit about him and met his family, so it was only fair he told him something before screwing him over, right?

Stanford sighed. “About that…” He set his hands into his coat pocket, fiddling with them in what was probably a nervous habit… Though it did seem like he hid his hands a lot. “Dusk, do you have somewhere to go?”

Oh, there it was. The other shoe dropped. Dusk should not have come in here. There is a small tremor as he gets up from his chair. “I am not doing this. I did not come over here to air out my… bullshit with some guy.”

The older man muttered something to himself, which sounded suspiciously halfway between an expletive and a sharp ‘ Cipher .’

“I know what it’s like to feel alone at a time like this. Trust me when I say that I know how Bill can smooth talk his way into your life. He has done it to me, and many other people. He took so much from me. I cut off friends and family for him, I devoted myself to him in ways that I can never take back. I changed the course of half of my life for him. You are not the first he has conned out of their regular lives…”

Dusk slowly sat back down, looking up at Stanford. Whatever the man saw on his face made him stop. Dusk swallowed. “I did this to myself. It has nothing to do with Bill at all. He hasn’t done anything to me.”

Stanford looked like he had been hit. “I know it might feel this way-”

“I’m being serious. Is it really so hard to believe that I just suck? I mean, look at me.” Dusk averted his gaze, feeling a strong sense of shame. Wishing that he had never come in at all. 

“What I see is a lost young woman. And I mean it when I say it might feel that way, if you would allow me to finish,” He shook his head but there was no venom in his voice as he continued. “Bill has a way of getting under people’s skin. Whatever you are thinking about yourself, If he told you that he’s your only choice, or that you are hopeless without him, I promise it is not true. … All of it is a lie. He would say anything to get you to cooperate with him. I am grateful that you denied him, it takes a very strong person to turn their back on Bill Cipher.”

“Right…” Dusk still could not meet the other’s gaze. Like if he did, he might be telling Stanford directly what he was about to do. Like Stanford would know to stop him.

The Book of Bill was set on the desk. Then there was an arm on Dusk’s shoulder, loosely hanging there as if he was unsure of whether or not to put it there at all. He gently squeezed. “You are a strong person.”

Dusk said nothing, which was met by another sigh from the old man. All he could do was get up. “Well, I think that is enough for today. I can take care of the book myself later. Let’s get you back upstairs. I’m sure they are starting on dinner right now.”

Stanford took him back upstairs where he unceremoniously dumped the younger man in the living room, grabbing his twin to go speak in another room. Stanley groaned, but did not complain as he got up from the couch and followed his brother out of the room. 

“Don’t break nothin’, kid.”

It was around 10 or 15 minutes later that the older twins came back. In Stanley’s hand was a bundle of clothing. He handed it over. “Look, Pointdexter updated me on the situation.”

Dusk blanched, but took it. “Thanks…” He averts his gaze.

The older man let out a heavy sigh. “I won’t judge you if you need a shower, but I would get on it if you prefer the water not ice cold.” He gave a pointed stare to his twin beside him. 

“Why are you giving me that look? Stanley, you know I don’t use up the hot water.” Stanford fumbled, seeming just slightly sheepish.

“Okay…” Dusk said. Awkwardly hanging there for a moment while the brothers bicker over normal people stuff.

Dusk is directed to the bathroom, where he bathes for the first time in a straight week. He almost doesn’t hesitate to make use of the 10-1 body wash and shampoo. The outfit shoved into his arms before consisted of a band t-shirt and worn jeans with legs that fell well past his ankle. No underwear or bra, but throwing on his jacket covered his chest well enough. He shrugged before stealing a brush off the bathroom counter and running it through his hair, finding his hair came out in clumps that he threw into the trash. That was much better. For all the effort he was putting into abandoning this body, it felt amazing to be clean. Hopefully Bill would also appreciate it for however long he actually got to use the thing.

By the time he came back downstairs, he could see the two older men had moved to the kitchen, along with their niece and nephew, and a man that he recognized from one of their photos. There were also two women he did not recognize. They are introduced to him as Melody Ramirez, Soos’s wife and “Missus Mystery,” while the older woman was Soos’s abuela. The young couple had moved in when the older twins had left the business to Soos (to apparently go on a monster hunting trip at sea,) while Soos’s abuela visited regularly and made dinner. Tonight just so happened to be one of those nights.

And damn was Dusk lucky. The meal was probably the best he had in his life. Being as used to microwave dinners and cold leftovers as he was, the bar was low. This far exceeded that bar. He couldn’t help but gush to the woman in between embarrassingly quick bites.

Later that night Dusk was seated at the couch for the night, and handed a blanket and pillow. The blanket was thin and the pillow case was worn with age, but both were freshly clean and still warm from the dryer.

Dusk found himself lying awake hours after the lights were out for the adults of the house. He was staring up at the ceiling, eyes tracing over the creases in the old hardwood. There had been something he had been mulling over in his mind since he had first gotten into town and treated to breakfast. He did not understand what he did to deserve this kindness or help. 

For the past few months life had been nothing but a constant struggle. Between jumping job to job and having to always be on the lookout for places to sleep. All he had wanted was to get as far away from everything as possible. Eventually all other considerations went out the window. He didn’t bother maintaining his appearance, or his things. Lost contact with all possible friends. Skipped town entirely because he was just so sick of seeing the same officers come to kick him out of whatever hiding spot he had come up with that night. By the time he had found that book in the back of his trunk, he truly had nothing. It was just him, his car, and maybe one more week of gas money.

Bill Cipher was screwed up as all hell. He rewired Dusk’s brain through a book while sitting in prison on another planet. He had intent to hurt people. But Bill’s stupid book had been maybe the first thing to make Dusk smile in a while by that point. Made him laugh. And it was ridiculous, especially considering how messed up the guy was, but there was something really comforting about knowing that a weird demon triangle thing was… really just a person just like anyone else. 

Bill’s offer was honestly a light at the end of a very long tunnel. The thought that he might be able to simply leave was so tempting. Dusk had been just about to make that deal. 

Dusk wasn’t stupid. He knew that there was some kind of trick there. He didn’t really think that it would ultimately matter, if he was gone. There was no one left to miss him, or even really notice that he was gone. Nevermind anyone who would care.

He got up from the couch, folding the blanket despite himself. It didn’t make the space look any less aggressively lived in. Nor did putting the pillow on top. With an aggravated groan he grabbed his dirtied clothing and shoved it into his bag. Throwing his jacket and shoes back on as he slipped out the front door as quietly as he could manage with the creaking door and the old door hinges.

It was cold outside. Dusk clenched his teeth together in order to keep them from chattering, and he crossed one arm over the other as he pointed the flashlight forward and began his foray into the woods. He started down the path leading out into the main road, following it for a while. Keeping an eye out for potential clues was as good a plan as any. Getting lost out here without so much as a working phone was the last thing he wanted. Being alone out in the middle of nowhere with no one any the wiser that he was out here. Left to starve alone? It would be a horrible way to die.

It is maybe 10 minutes down the road that he eventually decides to cross into the woods. He just starts in a random direction. It was super unlikely he would find the statue this way, but it had to be worth the try. With some consideration he decides to take a few tiny rocks and place them around trees in a stack. Sure, they could be easily knocked over at any point, but it was better than nothing.

Throughout the whole time out here, there was the constant background sound of the trees shuffling in the breeze, wolves or maybe coyotes yowling distantly, and the even more distant noise of cars driving past on the highway. The deeper he walked into the forest, the less of those cars he could hear. But the general sound remained constant the entire time. 

Dusk might not have even normally noticed this kind of thing. It was something that might normally fade into the background. Not unlike the constant thrum of a fridge or a dripping pipe in an old building. No, he only really noticed how noisy it was in its absence. 

When he reached the clearing, everything went silent. There was nothing save for his harsh panting and the soft crunch of his sneakers on the surface of the ground. A chill went up his spine. There it was. It was almost exactly as shown in the picture. Half buried, covered in moss- though the graffiti was new.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A voice suddenly asked, making Dusk jump.

Dusk turned and saw Stanford. He was wearing his trench coat over his pajamas, along with his thick boots. The sight would have made him laugh had the man not been carrying a gun. A small handgun, tightly held to his side.

Dusk froze for a moment, eyeing it. “What are you doing out here?” His eyes went back up to the other’s face, barely able to make out a hard expression.

“I came out following you. After our conversation earlier tonight, I was worried you might do something reckless.”

Dusk swallowed, shifting his gaze to the statue again. Its arm was reached out, as if for a handshake. That was what Bill had said. All he had to do was shake hands and they would trade places. If he was fast enough, maybe he could make it before he was shot. Leave Bill to deal with the consequences. Maybe, he thought, Bill would completely survive the death of this body and just be left at square one. No harm no foul. And most importantly, Dusk would not have to worry about it.

He reached forward. 

A few things happened in quick succession. First, there was this strong tugging sensation, as if he was being physically pulled back. Looking forward he could see Bill, saying something that he could not make out. Everything was grayed out, and he could hear nothing but the blood rushing to his head as Bill shook his hand back. Then he was being shoved to the side as Stanford pulled him away from the statue. There was yelling, and scrambling. Dirt unpleasantly stuck under his nails and in his hair in a body he had no control over. The gun fired. And then everything was cut to black.

Chapter Text

Bill awoke to an all encompassing soreness. From his feet to the very top of his body. His esophagus was drier than the bottom of an emptied pint of ice cream, and whatever surface he was laid on was hard as a rock. In the background there was an ever present sound of some kind of electrical appliance, and the dampened voices of numerous people speaking. 

Bill slowly opened his eye. There was a weird sense of double vision as a wooden ceiling came into view. Then he sat up, hands to his sides as he found himself looking at the living room where he had died, or at least this is the room he had encountered in Stanley’s mind. It was much the same as the last time he had seen it. Flaking wallpaper (That Bill DID NOT approve of Ford installing by the way), and shag carpet that would make any parent cry. He was currently sitting in the old hunk of junk chair, limbs haphazardly hanging off of it. Beside him on one side was a lamp, and on the other was an actual fossil. At least, from the cast of a genuine Gravity Falls sample. Across from him was an old CRT television, the screen buzzed ominously with static.

Oh, his plan had worked. It worked.

Bill had been minding his own business in his cell, just being let go from the solitary wellness void the day before. That was when he felt a pull. He did not hesitate to follow it. 

He had been brought into chaos instantly. Before he had the chance to process his surroundings, he was being pushed to the ground. Hard, cold, unpleasantly wet and gritty. The figure was trying to grab him by the ankles, there was a sound that he eventually made out to be yelling. 

“Bill- you get back here!” It was the familiar voice of Stanford Pines. 

Bill had continued to scramble, trying and failing to get up on his feet. Finding everything around him was spinning. A strong hand grabbed at the back of his shirt collar, pulling him up and off the ground. He kicked. Hard .

There was a bang, and he was dropped. Suddenly Bill could only hear muffled yelling. He was being pulled up again, this time by the front of his shirt. He was faced with the blurry face of Ford, arm pulled back. 

“STANLEY, YOU SAID THE CHAMBER WAS EMPTY-”

Then there was just darkness.

Now Bill is here.

Bill immediately tried sitting up, but fell back as his left arm refused to come with. On his wrist was a cuff, with the chain going underneath the chair.

Oh wow, real mature. They had to know that there was no way that they could possibly contain him like this. Doing something like this just had to be their way of dangling their momentary victory in his face. 

He was still sitting there on the floor, uselessly chewing on those chains, when Ford entered the room.

“Cipher,” His face was fixed with a stern glare. 

“Oh, hey. Fancy seeing you here,” Bill tried. Still gnawing on the chain as he faced Ford.

“You need to leave this person’s body, right now,” Ford continued.

“Or what? Gonna sic the time cops on me? You know how well that went last time!” It had been a blast. And this time it was sure to be just as fun. “Besides, it’s not that simple, Fordsy! I made the big deal for this vessel! No take backsies on that one. This flesh sack is as good as dead.”

Bill openly laughed as he saw the reality of the situation dawning on Ford. 

“You-” 

“And,” he took the chain out of his mouth, holding it up. He licked his teeth, tasting equal parts iron and copper. “Did you really think this would be enough, Sixer? I’m disappointed.”

Ford shook with anger. “Bill, I won’t let you get away with this-”

“Too late for that, buddy!” And with that, Bill made the move to leave this vessel behind. Excited to blow this popsicle stand and get a move on. He had people to meet, friends to make, and debts to collect on!

“ Bill Cipher -” Ford already had his hands around him, dragging him up as if he could somehow prevent Bill from leaving through sheer force of will alone.

Bill could only laugh. 

Until he wasn’t anymore. Silence fell as he tried to leave this body, only to find a hard resistance. He couldn’t so much as reach out of this body. He was stuck. He was stuck in this human body, in this stupid town, with this stupid man. In his numbed shock he almost missed the confusion playing on Ford’s face followed by a smug grin. Bill wanted nothing more than to wipe that look off his face. 

“You can’t leave this body, can you Bill?” 

This… this was not possible. This could not be happening. No.

“Something must have happened, am I right?” Ford continued.

Bill couldn’t go back. 

“I bet it must have happened in the struggle before…” Ford continued to gloat. And ramble.

Bill began to scream bloody murder. 

It had taken 10 minutes for the Pines to incapacitate Bill once he had started swinging. Slamming his (oddly small) fists into Ford’s body, desperately kicking, and reaching forward to bite. Restraining him was the part that Ford was able to do with an embarrassing ease. From there, he had his brother grab him a rag, which was loosely tied around Bill’s mouth. Muffling his yelling as they held him down and began to tie him down to a new chair. It was wooden, and its stiffness made him feel sore pretty quickly.

Bill panted, continuing to scream through the gag.

“Geez, who knew the kid had such a pipe on ‘em?” Fez rubbed at his ears.

“Mmph?!” Just who was he calling kid?

Ford shook his head. “It is just so odd, it seems Bill cannot leave this body, but I have no definitive answer as to why yet…”

“I’m with you that it’s weird, but shouldn’t we be way more concerned about, I don’t know, the kid in there?”

“Stanley… I don’t know how to tell you this, but… This ‘big deal’ of his involves complete control of the host body.” He looked to his brother, at just the right angle that Bill could barely see the color of his eyes. “It’s relinquishing your connection to the physical plane altogether, Stanley. I’m afraid whatever might be left of them is gone.”

Stanley swallowed. “Gone… but not dead gone, right?” 

“Stanley- I…”

“ Right ?” Wow Fez did not seem ready to let go of this. Just who was this hunk of junk to them anyways?

“Stanley, navigating the dreamscape when you know full well what you’re doing and have a tether to the real world is one thing… But going in without so much as a safety net? There may never be a way to find them again. That’s assuming they haven’t already slipped into another dimension, or into a dream. Any number of things could have happened from the time we caught Bill and now.”

“We still have to try, Sixer.”

Ford sighed, settling his hand on his brother’s shoulder in just about the grossest display of familial affection Bill has ever seen. “We can try, then.”

Fez then grabbed Bill by the collar for the millionth time, tugging until Bill was sure he heard a rip followed by the pop of his spine. “Let’s start with asking this guy what the big deal is.”

“We have no way of knowing if he will tell us the truth. I think we are better off contacting this… ‘Theraprism’ facility and having him returned to their custody.”

Fez eyed Bill hard, making him flinch by dragging him up just enough to chafe his skin against the rope. “He’ll be truthful if he knows what's good for him. Way I see it, he’s stuck here with us.”

Ford rubbed at his eyes, eyebrows pressed together tight with stress. “Stanley, where would we even keep him?”

“In your basement, duh, Pointdexter.” 

“We can’t keep a young woman down in the basement, Stanley.” Ford rebuked. 

Fez seemed to mull it over. “Shit, yeah. You’re right. Lemme…I’ll be right back. I got an idea.” He drops Bill on his ass.

What a bastard. When Bill got his hands on him…

Ford adjusts his glasses, nervously thumbing the pockets of his coat as they both wait for his brother to come back. Bill begins to play with the rope around his hand, trying and failing to find weaknesses in the knot. Instead all he got was a mild rope burn. Ford seems to be keeping a watchful eye all the while. So, he winks at Ford. Though it would have looked more like a lizard blinking one eye at a time. Ford jeers back.

Fez returns a few moments later, a familiar green shirt in hand.

“We could use a new employee around here, right?”

“You want Bill to work in the shack?”

What? 

“Sure, that way someone is always keeping an eye on him. And think about it, free labor!”

“That… sounds incredibly unethical. I hope you know that's a serious crime on most dimensions, especially for prisoners.”

Bill rolled his eyes at this. Knowing damn well “most dimensions” had a bounty out on the guy. He'd know, he was the one to set a good amount of them, but Sixer always had to get himself into some kind of trouble. Stealing a shirt here, breaking an ambassador's kid's heart there. Counterfeit. Stealing radioactive material, too. You name it. And boy was having locals take down their own wanted posters a pain. But there was no way Bill would let something as petty as the law keep him from getting his hands on what was his.

“Hey, we could call it community service! Same diff!!”

“Stanley, I think we should clear this with Jesus first. He’s the one running the business.”

“Oh, so you agree?”

Ford looked at Bill, and then back to his brother. “I think there is some merit to keeping him where we can see him, but I am also not so sure about putting him in plain sight. What if Bill tries to run, or even worse? Call for help?”

Fez laughed, a sound that grated against Bill’s ears. “No worries about that one. I got a call this morning from, uh Gleeful of all people. He was asking about our niece’s car . Turns out the kid said we were family. Not sure why she’d do that, but it’s a pretty solid alibi isn’t it? We’ll just say she wanted to help out with the family business.”

“I trust your judgment here,” Ford eventually said. “But we still need to decide how to go about housing him.”

“The supply closet should still have a lock on it.”

Oh wow, Bill started to laugh. They were really going to hold him hostage here. That was too much. He had completely escaped prison just for this ?

There is a smack to the back of his head as Bill's laughter grows more and more erratic. 

“Can it, shithead.”

Bill did not “can it.” Instead he struggled against his restraints until he and the chair fell to the floor. Then he continued to scream some more. He could only hope it was completely unbearable for the two to be moving him at that moment. He hoped he was heavy. He hoped they'd get splinters from the stupid chair. 

Continuing to struggle netted Bill two more trips to the floor. They shifted to taking turns pulling him to the storage closet. The hardwood floor screeched. Various scratches and indents were made on the trip, which made both brothers visibly recoil. Stan more than Ford. He cursed. Something about new varnish.

By the time they got to the closest, they practically threw him in. Shutting the door with a click that confirmed it did have a lock. The room was submerged in darkness. Leaving Bill alone in an unquantifiably sized space. He was practically blind save for the beam of light coming from beneath the door. 

Yeah. Bill was not about to stop screaming now. Mama did not raise a quitter.  

Chapter Text

Bill squinted as the door suddenly opened. The room flooded with light, hitting the back of his skull and making him reel for a moment. Bill realized, with growing dread, that somewhere between his screaming fit and now, he must have passed out. His throat burned. His muscles from the top of his head to the tips of his toes were screaming in pain. And the weird gopher man called Soos was standing over him, untying the ropes binding him.

Bill slowly got up, the ropes falling to the floor in a bundle. He stared up at the man. Question mark stared back. He appeared to be wearing a black suit, and the fez hat that earned the discount twin his nickname. In his hand was the green shirt again.

Neither said anything for a moment. And then another moment that dragged into what felt like a full minute. Bill wanted to kick something.

Soos rubs the back of his head, visibly sweating. “This is getting really weird, so I’m just gonna start talking dude.”

“K,” Bill started rubbing his wrists, and up his arms as he stretched. At least half his entire skeleton pops.

“So um. I’m not sure if you were told this or-”

“Yeah, yeah. Stanley wants me to work here?” Because of course he did. If that man was anything it was a cheapskate. “Community service” his nonexistent right angle. 

“Uh, sorta. In a matter of speaking.” Soos said.

Bill blinked. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Um, well, I can’t really have you at the register or at the front on account of you being an evil Dorito…” Soos crossed his hand over his chin in contemplation (or as close as Bill thought he could get to contemplation.) “That isn’t rude to say, is it dawg? Heh, sorry if it is.”

Bill wanted nothing more than to start up the kicking and screaming for what could have been the third time in the past 8 hours, but it would be painfully easy for them to just gag him again. 

He rips the shirt from Soos’s hand, throwing off the one currently on him and throwing on the new one quicker than he could think to complain about it. 

“It's fine. Just show me what I'm doing.

Bill was taken to the back of the shack’s gift shop, just out of view of customers. He was handed a broom and dustpan, along with a thick and heavy toolbox. What Bill would be doing would essentially be glorified janitorial work. Officially he was a custodian or a “handyman.” In all of his genius, Soos had been the one to come up with it. Apparently it was out of concern for someone potentially recognizing Bill and then the town proceeding to carry out “scary mob violence.” In other words, out of a misplaced sense of concern for him. Yuck.

There was a minute of hilarity as Bill convinced Soos that he didn’t know how to sweep, having him show him a few times. Each time he was handed the broom he would intentionally drop the thing or grind the bristles into the ground hard enough to leave marks in the hardwood. It took the redheaded teenage girl to happen upon that scene while looking for spare change for the till, to chastise Bill and subsequently ruin his fun.

“Dude, just do your job, before I shove this up your butt.” It looked like she was planning on actually doing so too. Yeesh. She was the last person he would have taken to be such a buzzkill.

Soos spent the next hour showing him everywhere he could clean during the day, and then talking about where he would be cleaning after hours when the customers left. The shack was only open during peak tourist hours, and generally closed at sundown. Locals did not shop at the mystery shack generally, so as long as he was out of view during the majority of the day, Bill would be completely out of their sight. Then he started talking about hours and breaks, explaining that since he was full-time he was entitled to a lunch and two smaller breaks every two hours. 

“We break, like, a lot of laws here. Basically all the time, but I don’t think it's fair to break that one. I had to fight both Mr. Pines, but I’m going to be grabbing you for breaks and we’ll go to the kitchen. We’ll be break buddies!”

“Right. Labor laws. Because kidnapping a teenage human is just fine here. I see how it is.”

“Erm, we found her ID, y’know. She’s my age.” To his credit, the man appeared incredibly uncomfortable.

Bill eyed him. One eye practically closed as he squinted. “Did I stutter, kid?” 

Later Soos had Bill work on cleaning up and down the hallways as he gave him an extensive tour of the shack. He showed him where he would be keeping his supplies (the supply closet or “your room” as Soos had said), where all the bathrooms were, and where the circuit breakers were. Not that any of this was necessary considering Bill was more than familiar with the place, but whatever. It gave him time to think about what he was going to do next. 

Bill considered killing the man and running multiple times that day, but that would leave him equally trapped in this body and in this plane, which would be less of a problem if the person who gave it to him didn’t dump him with zero resources that he knew of. No, he would have ran out ages ago if he could just find this human’s stuff. He was keeping an eye out everywhere, bemoaning his limited senses. No longer could he just see past walls or take sneak peeks into the future. There was no easy way to check others' minds or thoughts. Bill was no more aware than the other glorified meat sacks with synapses around him. He would have to weasel himself out of this the old fashion way.

Eventually Soos would have to go on a tour as Mr. Mystery, leaving Bill to his own devices, save for Wendy and the constant thrumming of people coming and going from the front of the gift shop. Throughout the day he would listen to her deal with customers whenever she wasn’t goofing off on her phone. 

Bill did not try to start a conversation with her and she did likewise.

All in all, the work was mind numbingly boring. Dust caked just about every surface of the shack that was not the floor. He had to be maybe halfway through all of it by the time Soos grabbed him for his first break of the day.

It was just the two of them in the kitchen. Soos sat him at the table, before reaching into the fridge and grabbing two paper bags. One was labelled with Soos’s name, and the other was labelled “Dusk.” Was that the name of this flesh bag?

Bill dug through the offered bag, finding a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a small bag of Cheez-Iits, and a handful of baby carrots that already felt slimy on his fingers. He set those aside, starting on the sandwich. The bread was soft, and the jam was sweet, but the peanut butter was grainy. He put down the sandwich, trying to swallow down the food now stuck in his teeth.

“Um, you alright, dawg?” Soos had something pretty similar, though he did not seem to mind the carrots, and he was already halfway finished with his sandwich. Bill had to fight the urge to gag.

“I’m fine,” Bill ate a handful of Cheez-Its in order to try to prove this point. They were also grainy, with a texture that quickly turned into some kind of scratchy paste in his mouth as he chewed. By the next handful, he finds that it goes down better if he sucks on the cracker and then swallows it whole.

“Okay…” There was doubt playing on the man’s face. “I’m sorry about the sandwich though, dude. I didn’t know if you were allergic to anything, and all we had left was the chunky stuff… I didn’t know if you’d like my Abuelita’s cooking after a microwave, heh some people don’t like the texture of microwaved food. I get it… So I had to throw something together and all my food is with Abuelita right now…” Soos rambled on in a way that was beyond infuriating.

“Hey, if I was allergic, we’d know by now, Question Mark.”

“Yeah, good point,” Soos shrugged before checking his watch. The head of the watch was scratched and worn, with discoloration on the metal, though the wrist strap appeared new. “We have another 6 minutes.”

“Oh, joy.” Bill feels a weight settle on his back as he fully begins to process that he was just now at the first benchmark of his day. This time of year there were going to be at least another 6 hours of daylight, and that’s assuming he was woken up at around 9 like he thought he might have been.

Bill ends up discarding the majority of his lunch, having filled himself on the Cheez-Its. Soos had wordlessly handed him the rest of his portion, too. That would have to be enough until Bill found something actually edible.

Work after that break remained largely uneventful. Bill continued to sweep and dust the neglected corners he was pointed to. He had already been shown how to draw water for the mop bucket, and was given a task sheet to start filling out. In the last few hours, the Mystery Shack began to empty as tourists moved along or began to sort out their sleeping arrangements for the night in town. The shop fell quiet save for the brushing of broom bristles on the floor and the tap of Wendy’s fingers on the countertop.

“Sooo, you’re human now?” She asked, rubbing her hand up her cheek and around her drowsy eyes.

Bill had been wondering if she knew. 

“No, I’m not human. This isn’t my body.” 

“Oh yeah, they told me that much. She’s the girl who found your diary, right?”

Bill threw her a glare. “Not a diary.”

Wendy rolled her eyes at him, hand now playing over her phone that sat on the counter. Bill did not need to read her mind in order to tell that she wanted to go back to ignoring him and just scroll on her phone.

“Pssh, whatever you say, dude.”

Bill continued to glare, his grip on the broom was starting to make his knuckles white and his palms sting.

She groaned. “Look, man. I want to punch you in the face so bad right now, and I can’t because you’re in this random lady’s body. Maybe just, I don’t know, try to appreciate that I’m being nice to you right now?”

“If you call holding me hostage nice, then sure thing.” 

“Hey, you’re the one who chose to come back here.” Wendy pointed at him. “And you’ve hurt me and everyone I know and care about. You are not the victim here.” 

Bill raised an eyebrow. “And she is?” He asked, of course referring to the human body he was piloting.

“I don’t know, dude. Considering your track record? Fucking probably.” She got up from where she had been leaning against the counter. “I’m going on break, you’re taking the register. Good luck.”

It was around an hour early, according to Soos, who was the one to cover her breaks, but who was Bill to tattle? 

Bill did not end up needing the luck anyways because no one showed up in those 15 minutes. And if Bill pocketed some of the tip jar money, that was between him and the security cameras.

Stanley Pines still watched those tapes as it turned out. Later that night he pulled Bill aside into what is now Soos’s office. He practically pushed Bill down into a chair, while he took the seat adjacent to him.

“Did you seriously try to steal 2.37 from a teenager?”

Bill raised an eyebrow. “Did you count? On the camera footage? The camera footage, that’s gotta be grainy, cuz you’re a cheapskate? That footage?” Bill let out a laugh. “Wow, that is extra!”

The man leveled him with a glare, or at least tried to. Bill made a point of blinking. Not flinching. Not flinching. “Hey, I have a vested interest in making sure you don’t steal from the kids working here.”

 “Last I checked, you’re the last moral authority on stealing from underpaid children.”

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Alright, empty your pockets. Or I’ll do it for you.”

The man heaved a heavy sigh when Bill made zero move to do so. Stanley stood up and got up in Bill’s face. The chair legs ground into the floor as he fought with Bill for access to his pockets, checking the front and immediately finding the crumpled bills, a quarter, a dime, and a few Canadian pennies. Stanley pocketed them while Bill flopped back into the chair and rubbed his arms. His grip had been strong enough to lift him out of the chair, but wasn’t rough otherwise, it was more for show than anything, and It just made him feel small.

“Well, if that's it.” Bill didn’t wait for a response, making a beeline for the door. 

Hands at his shoulders stopped him, and Bill briefly stumbled back. Not quick enough. From where he stood, the door may as well have been miles away.

“Nope. Not even close.” Stanley said, a scowl on his face. 

Now that the two of them were standing, Bill realized just how the man towered over him in this short form. A familiar ice cold feeling washed over him as he backed away. Both eyes were wide, and Bill found it harder and harder to draw in breath with every passing millisecond. Time seemed to pause and speed up simultaneously. It was like a bad trip, making him feel dizzy.

“Now you listen here,” Stanley started. “Because I am only going to say this once. You have hurt my family in ways that are going to take a lifetime for them to recover from. Dipper still has nightmares, and Mabel barely even wants to talk about it. It’s literally written into law that no one talks about it here. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get these kids to open up when they’re around adults they can’t talk to almost year round? And-” He paused for a breath. “My brother was ashamed of what you did to him. He was so sure that we wouldn’t understand him. My own brother was afraid of me knowing just how bad you hurt him.”

Everything in Bill screamed to crack a joke or to kick Stanley in the balls and make a break for it– anything but listen to this stupid spiel. Instead, he continued to stand there, frozen. Stanley went on.

“I didn’t suggest we keep you here for my health. If I catch you hurting my family ever again, body possession or not, I will send you back where you came from.”

“O-okay. Heard. Whatever…” Bill made the move to leave again and was stopped. This time he did not stumble back.

“Are you being serious with me right now? Whatever? You are a nasty piece of work. Just keep your bullshite to yourself. I’m going to be keeping an eye on you.” With that, Stanley dragged Bill, who barely had the self control to keep himself from biting the man, out of the room.

Stanley locked the office behind them, mumbling to himself about Soos’s willingness to keep the lock the same. Bill did not bite. He couldn’t, not as long as he was stuck in this body. There was very little he could do to prevent them from simply locking him back up. This body was too small and feeble to effectively fight back. For the first time in a very long time, Bill was forced to simply sit there and take it.

This was going to suck.

Chapter Text

It was by some miracle that Soos was able to convince the Pines to keep the storage room unlocked at night. By some greater miracle, Bill was also left without any rope binding him. This left him completely free to roam as he pleased. A mystifying choice considering the Pines’ twin’s insistence on keeping him under lock and key before, but Bill knew better than to look a gift gopher-man in the mouth.

There had been an old mattress dragged down here at some point in the day while Bill had been working, beside it was a short nightstand, the wood worn and weathered from use. The top was especially haggard, with much of the outer polish scraped off, and there were many circular stains from variously sized cups. Coffee mugs, knowing Sixer.

A bag left at the foot of the bed stirred Bill’s interest, unable to ignore his curiosity, he combed through the contents. There were a few shirts, some underwear, a single pair of jeans, and one horribly stained compression tank top. In the front pockets it was much the same, a half empty tube of deodorant (ocean scented?), a medicated lip balm, a wallet, and a crazy amount of lint.

The wallet was empty except for a free pizza coupon, which was worthless out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. There was absolutely nothing of any use to him in this bag. Considering his stolen change had been confiscated so quickly, at this point all he had to work with was this vessel’s name, and the knowledge that they had their car left with Bud Gleeful of all people. Useless.

Bill threw on the compression top, quickly finding that it was tight, but slightly better than allowing this body’s breasts to free hang like before. He also threw off the pajama pants lent to him. They clearly belonged to Ford, considering the lingering smell of burnt hair fibers and charcoal. They were a little long for him, and the ends dragged on the floor, which was very inconvenient for sneaking around. With a moment of consideration, he ended up stashing them in the backpack. The jeans were quickly thrown on.

Part of him still considered trying to take a hike now, but knew that him getting far was both unlikely and impractical. It was doubtful that he would find a solution to his current predicament anywhere other than the mindscape. The veil between this dimension and that one was thin in a few places on earth, but the closest by far was here in Gravity Falls. Sure, the mindscape could be accessed just about anywhere with the right tools, but… simply put, Bill just hadn’t ever needed to try visiting from a human body. It was an infuriating barrier, but as it was, he was already going to struggle meditating and gathering everything he needed under the watchful eye of the Pines family- he did not need this dimension itself working against him too.

With that decided, Bill gently pushed the storage room door open. It creaked, but apparently not loud enough to wake any of the snoring occupants of the house. 

Bill tiptoed from one room to the next. He started from the living room and kitchen, then made his way down the hallway, and sneaked around every nook and cranny he could think of before he finally dared risk going up to the attic. The stairs bent noisily as he crept up them. He took short pauses, waiting and listening for any signs of someone waking up. He heard nothing but the snores of Stanley.

The younger twin’s’ room was similar to how it was before; all of the same posters and pictures hung up in all the same places, and the same contained mess on their desk. There were still cobwebs in every corner of the ceiling. The only real difference was that the room was empty of the rest of their personal belongings, and that their beds were barren of any sheets.

Bill poked around, checking underneath the beds, in the nightstand drawers. It netted him nothing save for more lint and a broken bottle of red nail polish that made a mess on his hand. He was picking the already drying nail polish off his hands as he dug through the closet. It was a mess inside, with a bunch of dusty boxes, assorted art supplies, piles upon piles of old clothing, and even a few board games. Bill almost stepped on loose pieces of these games as he practically had to climb onto the piles of junk to comb through everything. Still, he found absolutely nothing that might have been of any use.

Next he went back downstairs, stalking up to the door of the office, and confirming for himself that it was still locked. 

Bill was still contemplating whether he would pick the lock or try looking for the key when he turned and rammed right into something heavy. There was a tangle of limbs and fabric as he grabbed onto it in an attempt not to fall back, and the weight- a person , his brain supplied to him, grabbed Bill by the arms. Firm hands held him in place as Bill stopped flailing.

“What are you doing out here?” 

Bill blinked, looking up at Ford. He was wearing exactly what he was wearing the other night. Likely the same exact pair of turtleneck and jeans, too.

“I was hungry,” Bill shrugs. 

Ford stared down at him, hands still tightly holding onto Bill’s arms. “And you were looking for snacks in Soos’s office?”

“....yeeep.”

The man stared at him incredulously. “Somehow, I highly doubt that.”

Bill shrugged again. “Believe whatever you want, Fordsy. Who am I to rain on your parade?” He shuffled in Ford's grip. “You can let me go now. Wouldn't want to find out the hard way that this vessel easily bruises, would you?”

Ford did not relinquish his grip. “Tell me what you are actually doing, Cipher. What were you hoping to accomplish by coming here?”

“Uh, are you going deaf or something, old man? I said I was up looking for a midnight snack.” Bill snorted at the long breath Ford took in, irritation playing plainly on his face. 

“You know what I meant.”

“Yeap. Heard and understood, loud and clear. What, did you really think I'd spill all my plans to you if you played a little rough with me? As long as I'm in this body I know you won't hurt me. You're drowning in guilt about this kid, huh?” Bill let out a hard laugh. It might have been a cheap shot, but this vessel itself was something he could leverage. “Let me guess. See a little bit of yourself in them?”

“You know nothing about what I see.” Ford said. He was shaking, teeth gritted as if he was doing everything not to allow Bill to goad him. 

Bill groaned. How lame. None of that self righteous anger, no argument, nothing. “Please. I know everything there is to know about you. I've crawled all over in that little crater of a skull you call a brain. I know what makes you tick. You've hardly changed at all .”

Ford exhaled shakily. His grip remained steady for all of two seconds before he relaxed and then released it. “Bill, I am taking you back to your room now.”

“What, nothing else to interrogate me about? Don't tell me you're tired .” Of course, it was a jab at how pitifully Ford would cling to alertness and consciousness during their little portal project, and what came after. Pathetic was the word that Bill would use to describe his constant fight against sleep. Entire pots of coffee, packs of cigarettes, and just about any other stimulant the man could get his hands on. None of it worked. Keeping Bill out was not possible - not without some medical intervention, at least. 

“As a matter of fact. I am. And I think we would all sleep better with you not running around doing whatever you want.” Ford’s voice was unexpectedly even as he motioned for Bill to move away from the door, and in front of himself. As if he was really about to shepherd Bill Cipher back to that storage closet like some kind of toddling human baby meatsack caught up past its bedtime.

Bill did not budge, shaking with a slowly brewing anger as he stared up at Ford. For the second time, it did not escape him that the man towered over him now, or that the man did not have to meet his eye if he didn’t want to.

“You know this flesh sack was trying to con you, right?”

“No doubt because you told her to.” Ford’s hand was gripping his arm again, harsh in its grip this time. Bill was pulled in close enough to the man’s face that he could smell his breath. Coffee, smoke, and whatever it was he had for dinner that night. 

“Nope!” Bill grinned. He continued, heart light at the sight of doubt on Ford’s face. “I didn’t tell that kid to do anything they didn’t want to do. Honestly. I thought they’d hung me to dry by the end of that little ‘family- love saves all’ routine, but whadya know, someone finally came through to me! And about time, too.” Bill laughed. “Your dimension isn’t off the hook quite yet, Fordsy.”

To Bill’s complete surprise, there was no panic, no fear, no exclamation of how he would stop Bill. Not even a word about how Bill was not going to get to him. Ford simply shook his head at him. “I am not listening to this.”

With that, he grabbed Bill and dragged him back down the hallway, through the gift shop, and down to the storage closet. 

Bill huffs. “Oh, so you’re not interested in what I might have in store for you?”

“Not particularly, seeing as it seems you don’t have much of a plan. If any.”

“Oh, I do. I have the most dangerous gang of international criminals in my corner, ready to come back through for me at a moment’s notice.”

“You’re bluffing.” Ford scoffed.

“Am not.”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “Bill, what point is there to telling me this? Why go through the trouble of trying to intimidate me, and my family, if all was according to plan? Face it, Bill. You are done. As long as you are under this roof, there is nothing you can do to hurt anyone.”

Bill went quiet at that, suddenly unable to meet Ford’s eyes. 

“What, have nothing of interest to say?”

“Amanda from the 3rd grade asked you out as a joke.” With that, Bill slipped in, and closed the door. He was not surprised when he heard it lock behind him. Throwing his bag at the door did little to make him feel any better about it. Nor did screaming into the mattress and throwing all of his sheets. 

Bill’s sleep was predictably fitful that night.

Chapter Text

“Happy birthday!!” There is confetti flying everywhere and the sound of sparklers fizzling. They were surrounded by family and friends. It was more than a little cramped in the kitchen, but Stanford wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

Stanford chuckles with a grin, falling forward ever so slightly under his brother’s arm. Today was their birthday. The two of them had made the return trip to their home in Gravity Falls for the occasion.

His niece grinned up at them, excitedly going in for a hug, followed by a hug from her brother.

“Happy birthday, grunkle Ford.” His nephew pulled away, presenting both of his great uncles with small, square packages.

Stanford could remember it now, with the startling clarity that came with realizing that one was lucid dreaming- as he played over the memory, bright and uncanny. This was their latest birthday, the twins had pitched in to get their uncles matching watches. They were nothing particularly expensive, to his brother's grief, but they had designs by Mabel, specially engraved by Dipper with tools he was able to borrow from his woodworking class teacher. Stanford rarely ever took the thing off, save for bathing.

Stanford grinned and took the package presented to him, thanking the both of them. He then opened it.

It was a red button.

The room quieted at once, and it is with a sense of dread that Stanford realizes his twin is no longer beside him. In fact, there is no one here, save for himself and his research assistant. A younger Fiddleford Mcgucket. The man looked much the same as he always did at that time, unshaved stubble and tired eyes. They were no longer in the kitchen, but in the basement in front of a half finished portal.

Stanford swallowed. “Fidds?”

Red lights send a pounding ache into Stanford’s skull, and he is slowly made aware of a blaring alarm- just what was going off?

“Go ahead,” His old friend said. “Pull the trigger. You’ve already taken enough from me, you can at least spare me the knowledge of what we’ve done.”

Suddenly Fiddleford is pulling Stanford in by the forearm. Stanford is no longer holding the button. In his hand was his handgun, pressed against Fiddleford’s abdomen.

“Fiddleford- please,” Stanford is tearing up, shaking, he cannot keep his composure as he falls to his knees. “I never should have asked you to come here.” Stanford chokes on his tears, chest heaving in sharp pants. His heart raced, and he could no longer bring himself to look up and face his oldest friend.

The alarm continued to blare, getting louder and louder until he could no longer hear Fiddleford.

And then it stopped.

Stanford sat there, simply breathing. In and out, in and out. Slowly as he could manage, until his heart no longer felt as if it were trying to burst out of his chest.

He opened his eyes.

There was nothing before him but the endless expanse of the sea. Wooden boards creaked beneath his feet, and there was a strong smell of salt water that permeated the air like a heavy cloak. It was unmistakable, he was on the Stan O' War 2.

This was something Stanford could work with. All he had to do was find Stanley, and he could get back on track to enjoying this dream. The two of them could maybe go fishing, he mused to himself. Ice fishing had been a new experience for the both of them. Maybe a little bit boring for Ford, but he valued the time he spent with his brother, and the look on his twin's face when they started catching a few was a very fond memory. It helped that his brother had taken up cooking in the last few months- those fish had been delicious.

He makes his way down the deck, hand on the handle to the lower deck when he is suddenly being ripped back- it is only from many such experiences of getting dragged back and forth on the whim of the waves- that he is able to regain his balance. Ford grabs the handle again, only be be fully wrenched off the ground. Gravity seemed to stall for a moment, and his heart leapt into his throat. Then his back was slammed into the back of the deck, air knocked out of his lungs. As he tried to gather himself and recover, he noticed for the first time that everything around him was bathed in a yellow light, the source of which felt so close now. The light hit his eyes and brightly rattled in his skull, and it was like he was standing straight ontop of a light tower.

It is with a heavy feeling of foreboding that he pushes himself back up on his knees and turns to face the sea.

Before him was a scene straight out of one of the kaiju films he'd enjoyed so much in his youth. Towering above the ship was a monster, gazing down on him with a single, slitted eye that emited so much light that it was almost possible to miss the long and dark tendrils winding around, onto the boat, and creeping up beside Ford as if to reach out to grab him. It stared Stanford down, unblinking in it's intensity. The tendrils were grabbing onto the boat now, wrapping around the stern in massive loops.

It was at this point Stanford decided he'd had enough. It was time to wake up.

Stanford ambled out of bed with a groan, throat dry as a groggy sensation came over him in waves. Ford could just about scream. His mind had cooked up a nightmare of Bill Cipher. He thought this was over- he thought he was over with this!

The last few days had been nothing less than a nightmare.

Ford had not expected to be seeing from the unfortunate most recent victim of Bill Cipher’s manipulations. Nor did he expect for that person to slip away and revive Cipher, and in retrospect, he really should have. Ford remembered how he once was wrapped around his fingers, how not even one of his closest friends and colleagues could convince him to turn back from Cipher’s plans. Not even after the incident that could have very well taken his colleague’s life. Ford worshipped Bill. And as much as his family accepted him and loved him, a small part of him would always burn with shame. Ford had isolated himself from his peers, and had alienated himself from his loved ones. By the time he had come to realize that he was endangering their very dimension, it had already been too late. Cipher had gotten him so in his own head about how he could have ever trusted the demon, that this overwhelming feeling would follow him for 30 years. Back to his own home, and to his own family. Even after so long, he had feared rejection from the people who loved him the most. Ford feared that he might still be an awful person, and what was worse was that he thought he had been over this. That he could leave this behind him.

Now the source of all of this shame was in his home. Trapped here by his own stupid machinations. Ford had been given the opportunity to move on with his life, live out the rest of it with his brother at sea, and for his greatest concern to be making it home every year for his nibling’s birthday. This was ripped out right from under him like a rug. Because of course Bill Cipher would do this to him.

This was what had him awake at the break of dawn, packing his bag and preparing to trek through the wilderness for the next few hours. The unicorn hair barrier needed to be renewed, and parts needed patching up as well. Unicorn hair was an excellent material for just about any type of spell work- but unfortunately it was also quite fragile. Normally it might have been reinforced, but they hadn’t had the time before. Now, with circumstances being as they were, he would have the time to do it right. It was an odd feeling, thinking about how just a few summers ago he had put up a barrier to keep Cipher out. This time he was renewing the barrier in an effort to keep him in.

At least long enough to find and recover the young woman that Bill had manipulated, and to get into contact with the proper authorities. If anything Bill had said in his book was to be believed, anyways. It was unlikely he would lie about something that clearly embarrassed him, but there was always a level of uncertainty with him. Ford could not trust him, that was for sure.

Ford mulled over the conversation he had with Cipher earlier in the night as he slipped out the front door and made his way into the forest. It was largely true that as long as Bill was under their roof, he would be unable to harm people. Even his omnipotence and knack for digging through people’s heads for their insecurities seemed to be gone. Bill had been right that Amanda had asked him out as a joke, but Ford had known that. He had been in on the joke. If he remembered right, the joke had been on Stanley. Some roundabout attempt at getting Stan to spend more time with their friend, who’d had a raging crush on Ford’s brother. Bill, for all of his talk, did not seem aware of this. His omnipotence was nowhere in sight, nor was any other power. He was entirely human, and he had no legs left to stand on. Ford would have to experiment with it, but it seemed to be the case. Bill was no more harmful than any other human.

The thought gave him some solace. Everything he and his family had gone through wasn’t entirely for nothing. They were still safe. Ford was still safe.

Though that still left thoughts of what he had said about the young woman whose body he occupied. Whether he could trust Dusk going forward, if there ever was any going forward. It was without a doubt that retrieving her from the mindscape would be a difficult task. It was like he told Stanley, working with the mindscape without a tether was perilous. The time Ford had personally spent there with Bill, and sometimes just by himself, had taught him that much. There were numerous times where he had encountered a lost soul. Brain dead car crash victims, and other souls that had refused to move on that had eventually found themselves in a verifiable labyrinth. Often they would wander until they lost themselves entirely.

It did not seem to be a pretty way to go. Which was why they had to begin looking for the young woman as soon as humanly possible. It was the whole reason they were bothering with keeping Bill here in the first place, why Ford was out in the middle of the woods to venture into unicorn territory, and why he would ultimately have to put up with the bastard for the near foreseeable future.

Celestabellebethabelle was as unbearable as she was 30 years ago, still posturing herself as a pure being of light, magical sunshine, rainbows, and adult virginity- for some reason. Nevermind that she had no way of knowing whether or not he embodied the latter point, nor did that have anything to do with literally anything- just on top of it being stupid and pretentious. She did not seem to recognise him at first, immediately going off on a judgmental ramble. Rather than stand there and take her behaviour, Ford did the obvious and kicked her teeth in with his steel toed boots. He narrowly missed, ramming her in the upper jaw and neck. In the ensuing struggle with the unicorn he was able to grab hold of a chunk of her hair, ripping out maybe a few dozen strands. More than enough to reinforce the barrier around the house.

Running from her and her friends was a little less straightforward, if only because in the years he had been gone he had become less than familiar with the winding forest, with its trees, hills, and unexpected drops that nearly had him tripping several times. Ford might have considered bringing Stanley if it weren’t for that very reason (his brother was the perfect person to have in bar fights or during storms at sea, but he was never the most coordinated- and sue him, he was worried about his brother’s joint pain.)

Instead, Stanley was at the town’s car dealership. One upside to Dusk lying about her relation to the Pines was that the owner of the dealership was willing to let Stanley pick up what was in the car. What he was looking for was anything of emotional value to the young woman. That was what they would need in order to bind the body to the confines of the shack. It might not be enough, he thought, to lock Bill himself in. In any case, it was better safe than sorry, it was unlikely that anything they already had would cut it.

He returns home with the unicorn hair, tears in his clothing, small bruises and knicks on his legs and hands. His coat falls onto a chair with a plop as he takes a seat at the living room table and immediately starts to braid. The braids had to be fine, as he could not afford to waste any of the hair. With a pang he thinks of his niece. Mabel was a great help with spellwork like this. Perhaps she would have also found it cathartic to braid the unicorn’s hair after they had wrecked her expectations the previous summer. At the time, Ford did not know how to warn her to set aside her preconceived notions of what a unicorn was, but then she had her friends with her. The encouragement from them had seemed like enough, and she came out of that experience with a new sense of confidence. Still, after the little mock funeral service she had helped him carry out for Bill Cipher’s corpse, he wanted to return the favor. He had missed out on so many years with his family, so any chance to spend time with them was more than worth it.

Ford was roughly a third of the way through the process of braiding the unicorn hair when the kitchen light flickered on, followed by the tired whir of the aged coffee pot brewing. A few minutes later, Melody entered the living room. In her pajamas and fluffy slippers, with a hoodie hanging from her shoulders. In her hands were two mugs of coffee. She gave him an incredulous grin, handing him one of the mugs. The coffee was hot and the color was lightened by plenty of creamer and sugar.

“Morning, Dr. Pines.”

Ford sets the braid down, taking another sip of his coffee. “Please, you can call me Stanford, or just ‘Ford.’”

She snorts, taking a seat across from him. “You know I can’t think of you as anyone else, even Soos calls you that.”

“Hm, family doesn’t call me that.” Nor did his friends, for that matter. Though they were sparse in this dimension.

“The kids call you grunkle, though. I dunno if that counts.” She teased back.

“You know, it might not be completely inaccurate to call me something like that, considering Stanley’s involvement in your fiance’s life…”

She sighed. “You really think so? When we first met I kinda just thought he was Soos’s dad. Up until he called him ‘Mr.Pines.’ I didn’t expect my boyfriend’s boss to become one of the most supportive people in our lives, but the way he helps us out is really sweet. I know Mr. Pines likes to come off like a gross jerk, but he’s a really kind person.”

“That sounds like Stanley.” Ford said. He finds himself thinking again about how long he had been gone from the life of much of his family. Stanley, the longest. There was so much he didn’t know about his brother anymore. It honestly didn’t cross his mind to ask about his relationship to the young man who succeeded him in running the shack. There were so many other things to catch up on. Even Stanley hadn’t thought to tell Ford about his own divorce until the two of them ran into his ex wife at a flea market off the coast of Connecticut. (Very interesting woman; Ford was not entirely convinced she was human.)

They had all the time in the world now. Assuming Bill didn’t do what he always seemed to do to Ford’s life.

The two drank their coffee together in relative silence for a few minutes before Melody asked about the unicorn hair braid, which Ford was enthused to explain. She seemed to understand the general premise, and ended up helping him braid the rest of it with surprisingly deft hands. They end up talking about Ford and his brother’s trip, Melody’s educational plans (she was apparently an English major with a minor in creative writing), and how to prevent the gnomes from getting into the trash bins. Ford suggested mouse traps, and the two of them would spend the next half hour spitballing different types of snacks to tempt them with.

The two were long finished with their coffee and with braiding the unicorn hair by the time Soos had come down. He was already in his suit and fez, indicating that it wouldn't be long before the shack opened.

“Hey, Dr. Pines,” The young man waved to Ford before setting something down onto his fiance’s head, not unlike a crown. What it actually appeared to be was a cream cheese bagel, just lightly toasted. It was what Melody seemed to make herself just about every other day.

She giggles at Soos’s antics. “You goofball, thank you.” She takes a bite from the bagel, shaking loose crumbs from her hair. “You know, I think you’d normally wait to crown a queen.”

Soos shakes his head. “Nah, I was thinking more like crowning a princess?”

“Oh?”

“Yea, Abuelita said all women are queens.” He said.

Melody took another bite of her bagel. “I love her so much.”

The entire exchange was almost too uncomfortably saccharine, but they quickly changed the subject.

“Welp, I’m gonna check on the Man-Dorito now. See you later dudes.”

Ford was in no hurry to stick around in the house after that. He had to inspect the barrier, repair parts of the original seal where he could, and line the perimeter with the newly acquired hair. Then there was the case of checking for and likely going back over each rune, all of which were left in the dirt and over the foundational concrete of the property. He would need a shovel, paint, and plenty of axe body spray (these types of spells always went over much better with the addition of a pleasant smell- Ford would have to parse the why later. For now, he simply did as his mentor had taught him.)

He made short work of securing the unicorn hair barrier, there having only been a few small breaks in the braid over the course of the past year. Digging up the old runes was a much more laborious and time consuming task, but eventually that, too, was done. The new runes were now sparkly and pink, courtesy of Mabel’s (supposedly) child friendly spray paint.

By the time he was finished re-burying them, the sun was bright overhead, and it was well into the afternoon. Ford was tired, parched, and sorely regretting the decision to forgo breakfast by this point. Mud and dried dirt coated his shoes and coat, as well as his hands and even his hair was thick with it, sticking to his face like some kind of plaque. Ford was no stranger to getting “down and dirty,” as the youth might say, but this would be a little much for the other occupants in the house. He could use an outfit change before he went back to work.

The gift shop was relatively slow, as it had been for the past few days. The shelves were fully stocked anyways, with the rest of the shack being surprisingly well kept on this particular day. Normally dusty corners were cleared, and previously cluttered shelves had some semblance of order. Even if said order involved placing the surprisingly well made sea-monkey mermaid hoax replica beside the genuine display of siren scales. It looked nice, even if it was more than a little early for spring cleaning.

Ford had to keep telling Stanley that it was more than natural for a tourist attraction to have its off seasons, but it did little to stop his brother from insisting on helping his successor. Everything from teaching the young man how to file paperwork for the business (like Stan ever had an interest in filing his taxes correctly before?) to bringing down heavy boxes of backstock to be sorted through and put back on the shelves. As his brother put it, he was “hanging up the hat and mantle. But not retiring!” and then something about the IRS never getting their hands on him at sea.

The young worker at the front desk, Wendy Cordorough, as he had been told, gave him a half hearted wave. Her legs were propped up onto the desk, and her arms dangled uselessly at her sides. At her feet was her phone, and judging by the lack of buzzing and light up notifications, Ford could only assume that no one was on. “Hey, Dr. Pines.”

Ford nodded to her, caught between an awkwardness at the quiet in the shack, and that he did not know the girl very well yet. He just had not had the time previously, between the looming threat and apocalypse. Then there was the shipping trip. He had been kept busy by packing, planning, and later work on their boat before they could set out. After that, keeping correspondence with anyone aside from family and close friends like Fiddleford had been well out of his mind. From what he had been told, Wendy was fast on her feet, a strong-hearted and clever individual, and that you would find no one better for speed climbing with an axe under her arm. He had wondered in the past if she might be open to helping Stanley and himself get a hold of more difficult to acquire samples deep in the forests of Oregon, but the subject had just never come up.

The subject would still have yet to come up because in that moment Soos would come in from the kitchen, panting and making his way to them with a sense of urgency. “Hey, dudes. Uh, Bill’s really freaking me out. He locked himself underneath the sink somehow and started hissing when I told him to come out. I am- not entirely sure what to do here, dawgs.”

Wendy snorted. “Like Mcgucket’s second wife, or Durland’s cat girl mage?”

Mcgucket's… what? Ford was lost, and was handed zero explanation as Soos shrugged. “Mcgucket’s wife, I think, with a side of Mr. Pine’s creepy gold dude. Before it stopped working.” He took an audible breath. “Man the front while we save the crazy Dorito man?”

“Already ahead of you, man.”

Ford sighed, already heading into the kitchen area, and barely noticing Soos following behind him with a heavy toolbox in hand. He wanted no part in whatever game Cipher was playing now, but the sooner he ripped off the proverbial band-aid, the sooner he could get back to completely securing the barrier and retrieving Dusk.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he would actually be dealing with in the kitchen. Ford tried the cabinet door to no avail. The door barely came open before slamming shut. Ford thought he could see a thick rubber band affixed to the hooks on the inner lining of the cabinet.

There was a hard slam. “Screw off, Question Mark!” Cipher did then, in fact, hiss.

“No can do, dawg. I can't leave you stuck in there. We're getting you out!”

There was another thunk followed by a groan. “Ow, is it me, or are these human bodies getting less and less durable?”

Ford blanched, remembering the numerous times that Bill had occupied his own body. The mysterious bruises, the scratches, the aches. He could remember in vivid detail the nail, straight through his hand, nearly fixing him to the table. Ford swallowed, throat tight.

“Bill, get out of there right now.”

There is a pause and a shuffling of limbs. “Nope, sorry Sixer. Really set up a comfy crib-” he then gave a sharp breath. “Yep, so I'll be staying in here.”

“You are acting like a child, Cipher.” A dangerous, conniving one.

“Takes one to know one!” Cipher blew a raspberry. It was a wonder that Ford had ever revered him as a muse, like some kind of god and artistic inspiration wrapped in one.

Ford reached into a kitchen drawer, grabbing a pair of scissors, with which he opened the cupboard again and simply snapped the rubber bands.

Bill was huddled underneath the sink, bent in on himself awkwardly. The sight reminded Ford of a ragdoll, with his limbs hanging uselessly at his sides. His knees were pulled up underneath his chin. There was dirt on his face, and it coated his clothing. He glared up at Ford, lifting his arm to protectively pull his knees further in as he scooched ever further back into the cupboard. Not that there was a lot of space.

Ford did not hesitate to grab him, easily lifting him out of the cupboard by the arm. Cipher winced and hissed. “Let me go-” Cipher almost fell out of Ford's grasp, hand protectively reaching to guard his ribs as he stumbled. Ford was helping him to his feet before he had the chance to think about it, still firmly holding him by the arm, but also holding him steady with a hand at his back.

“What did you do?” Ford asked, standing still. All sorts of horrible scenarios flashed in his mind, of Bill jumping off of high surfaces and purposefully bending the human’s body further than it was meant to go. Already he could see closer now that it was in fact his abdominal area that he was guarding, his left side in particular. Even upright like this, Bill was hunching forward, knees bent and taking shallow breaths. For a moment, it was easy to see the young woman in front of him, rather than the demon that had done so much harm.

That train of thought flew right out the window as Cipher tried to lean forward and kick at him.

Cipher was stopped easily enough, being too weak to do much of anything. Ford ended up recruiting Soos’s help in getting Cipher down into the basement. It would be easier than leaving Cipher unsupervised upstairs while they grabbed his equipment. To Ford’s surprise, Cipher tired out by the time they reached the elevator, making it much easier to guide him through the basement and to his (as of the moment) makeshift examination room.

Soos had elected to return to work, after Ford had reassured him numerous times that he would be just fine by himself. That left him down in the basement, alone, with no one but Bill. It had been a very long time since it was just himself and Bill down here. Ford could recall exactly the last time. Blood pounding in his skull, limbs splayed out on the floor as he’d cried out in agony. Cipher had threatened to send someone to take his eyes that night.

Now he was sitting Cipher down in an exam chair, leaving zero room for argument as he began to gently press at this left side. “Tell me if any of this hurts.”

Obviously, it did. Cipher winced and tried to back away, already raising a leg again in order to kick at Ford’s face- but he quickly dropped it and hissed in pain. He was quick to fold in on himself like he did before.

Ford sighed. “Bill, whatever it is you did, I need to be able to examine it.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft for who he was speaking to- but it had to be. Cipher had alluded to his fear of doctors and medical exams plenty of times for Ford to get the gist that there would be no cooperation whatsoever if Bill thought he was being prodded at. It was ironic, and irritating all at once. Especially with the times Ford should have gone to a doctor after an episode with him. Everything from broken limbs to dozens of spiders in his throat. It felt distinctly unfair that he had to take care of Bill now.

Cipher looked away. “Didn’t do anything.” He eventually mumbled.

“A likely story,” Ford was unable to stop himself from scoffing. “Please, just allow me to get a closer look at it. The sooner we can get this over with, the sooner you can leave.”

Cipher huffed. “Fine.”

He stopped putting up a fight, only occasionally flinching away when the pressure did hurt, voicing his complaints aggressively and cursing at him.

Ford could not be entirely sure without some testing, but it appeared that Bill had managed to dislocate the rib, or otherwise caused it to slip. Though, worryingly, it did not appear to be his fault at all. Dusk had hypermobility, and, as it turned out, wore a compression shirt. A shirt that Bill had simply put on and went to sleep in because he did not know any better. What was worse, was that judging by the fading bruising around the ribs, Dusk themself had been doing this first-

It was something that would have to be addressed later.

Tears played at the corners of Bill's eyes. Ford did his best to ignore it. Not only would it feel awkward to do so on his end, it would also likely cause Bill to double down on hiding it- as well as hiding any further symptoms. If there was one thing Ford could say he knew about Bill, it was that he found vulnerability to be trivial at best. Just another way of manipulating the people around him. Even when he portrayed himself as a trustworthy teacher and friend, he had a tendency to keep his emotional distance. Then, there was how he cornered himself before. Like an injured animal.

It should not have calmed Ford’s anxieties so much to see Cipher this way. It was sad and pathetic, and Ford did not pride himself as the kind of person to want to see anyone like that.

Ford escorted Bill upstairs, grabbing him an ice pack and supervising his first dose of pain management. He was careful not to leave the medication out for Cipher to find later. The closet door was also locked. Ford would not be budging on this tonight if he could help it- for the sake of Dusk, and- despite everything, Bill.

Ford didn't know what he truly wanted, but Bill Cipher cornered like an injured animal was far from it.

Chapter Text

Boredom could not even begin to describe how Bill Cipher felt. For the past week and a half he had been basically confined to the storage closet these people called his room, only let out under the direct supervision of Soos or his fiance, and it was only for meals or small tasks like grabbing the mail and sweeping. That was it.

Bill lay face first in bed, knees awkwardly hanging off and pressing into the hard floor, leaving what Bill was sure would be those short lived indents in the skin. His ribs felt better, but he would sooner wait out the rest of these two weeks in utter boredom than work in their stupid shack. Besides, he had a plan now.

It was late afternoon, so Red went home, while Question Mark was in the kitchen. Melody was in the living room with Fez. Bill heard what he thought was Sixer heading into the basement roughly an hour ago. There should be no one coming in with food for him for at least another 45 minutes. That would have to be enough time.

Bill got up, playing with the hairpin between his teeth. Melody had given it to him to keep all this thick hair out of his face. Ford would not have allowed him to have this, he was certain, but he had not been there to stop her. Bill had never picked a lock before this, not having much of a need to, nor could he remember exactly how. That was why he had been practicing it for the past week whenever the occupants of the house might be too distracted to notice him jostling the lock and getting the door open.

The plan was simple: Get this door unlocked, make a beeline to the front door where Melody kept her purse for her tiny mirror, as well as a pen, and slip back into the closet where he will be able to reach out to his loyal henchmaniacs. Failing that, he would contact Mary. She was the second to last person he wanted to talk to (that honor would go to Frills), but he knew that deep down she was so not over him. Her dimension would make a tolerable halfway point and had the benefit of being nigh impossible for authorities to get through on account of the delightfully maniacal commute time.

Bill worked the door open, the sounds of the tv drowned out any noise from the lock and door. The hallway was clear, so he made a quick sprint to the door where he could see Melody’s bag hanging from its usual spot off the stair banister. It took a second for him to fiddle with the annoying little zipper on the top and then to find the mirror and the pen. He set the bag down on the ground, not bothering to set anything back right. It would not be necessary. Bill was getting out tonight.

He made his way back to the maintenance closet, only half tripping once. Bill did not bother to lock the door behind him either- it would be a hassle with just the hairpin.

The ritual was a simple one; just your run of the mill interdimensional video call, not too different from his book. The mirror would project his reflection and allow for two way communication.

Neither Amorphous Shape nor Hectorgon picked up. Keyhole did not either. Bill rubbed his eyes- still not sure which one to pick next, honestly. He tried another time, and finally, someone did pick up.

Pyronica stood in a packed bar, the image was distorted, as if he was looking at her through a glass and past the contents of it. Beside her he could see Hectorgon and her sister, of all people- behind them he thought he could vaguely make out 8-ball and Teeth.

She squinted at the glasses, picking it up and rotating it. The image that reflected on Bill's stolen contour mirror blurred as she inspected the glass at a few angles. The way she seemed to be leaning on the bar table gave him the impression that she was more than a few drinks in. The way she started talking only went to show it.

“Oh, wooowwww, Billy, that you?”

Bill glowered. “What gave it away?”

“All of that,” she rolled her eyes, motioning with her hand to his human face. “You are obsessed.”

“Okay, ignoring that-” Bill pinched his eyebrow ridge and gave a hard sigh. Dealing with a drunk Pyronica while sober could be the absolute worst. Being sober several dimensions over was now also pretty high up there. ”Can you pick me up?”

Pyronica dropped forward, leaning heavily on the bar counter as she brought the glass closer to her, as if trying to obscure it from everyone else’s view. If that was the idea, she was failing pretty spectacularly. “Bill, aren’t you on, like, probation right now? Some goody two shoes- two shoes shit?”

“-What, no. Who told you that?”

The glass is abruptly moved again, the image spinning on Bill’s mirror before settling again above Pyronica, and pointed directly at her sister, who was now holding the glass in one hand and running the other soothingly along her sister’s back. Pyronica mumbled something that Bill couldn’t make out, but made no attempts to wrestle for control of the glass. Which was odd; last Bill checked she hated Hydronica.

“This is Bill Cipher?” She squinted at him, once again turning the glass as she scrutinized him. The constant shuffling of the glass was going to make Bill puke at this rate. “Looks a little fleshier than I imagined.”

“Nice to meet you too.” He said, biting down the urge to throw the mirror and or just hanging up and trying someone else. Pyronica was by far his best chance at getting a one way ticket out of here and back to the Nightmare Realm. “Mind putting Pyronica back on for me? Henchmaniac business, I'm sure you get it.”

Hydronica did not hand the glass back to her sister, instead she just snorted at him. “Didn't you know, little guy? That little freak show fell apart a while ago. I had to bail my little sister out because your stupid stunt was going to land her in prison for millennia.”

“Yeah, millennia, Bill.” Pyronica groaned. “And then there were rumors that you got thrown in rehab. You screwed up royally, failed to get us our dimension, and then you left us to deal with it! Why would I want to pick you up, you slimy little loser-” she continued, becoming less coherent the further her sister leaned the glass away.

Bill's hands shook. ”I wasn't in rehab, I was in a prison bent on breaking me down and killing me. I made it out- I just need a little help sorting out the dimension and body issues, so if you could just-”

“Yeah, no, not happening.” Hydronica said. “I am not letting Py drag your sorry ass out of whatever it is you've gotten into. What's going to happen is I'm going to eat this shot glass-”

“Wait, no- please-” Bill pleaded.

“-and then I'm going to call the authorities and report that you're in whatever backwater dimension that mess is.”

“No, stop-” Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

“Bye, Bill.” With that the image disappeared from the mirror. All he could hear was an explosive crunching sound and the noises of the bar until eventually even that was gone and all he had left was a silent contour mirror in his hands.

Bill sat there paralyzed for a moment, staring at the mirror, seeing the human face staring back. Suddenly the sound of Stanley’s show in the living room, the boiling water in the kitchen, even the thrumming of the electricity, and the elevator ding followed by a resounding tap of boots on the floor was all too much.

There was a crack as Bill broke the small mirror in his hand. He was still lining up broken pieces of plastic in an attempt to summon Bloody Mary when Soos came in with his food.

Bill did not make it easy for the man to wrench the bits of mirror away from his hands. There was kicking and yelling, but by the time everyone else in the house was at the door, Soos had already gotten the mirror and secured most of the bigger and sharper pieces in his pocket. Bill had given up on fighting the larger human by this point and had taken to sitting on his knees and staring vacantly at the floor as Soos hesitantly patted his back.

The older Pines twins stared- recognition flashed in Melody's eyes at the sight of the shards in Soos’s back pocket, and his Abuela looked less than pleased herself. It was an awkward moment where Soos was checking Bill's hands for any damage and everyone else was sorta just standing there in the doorway.

“Uh, guys, I think we need to have a house meeting.” Soos eventually said.

They had to move a few kitchen chairs into the living room to make room for the entire shack. They sat Bill down and asked him to explain himself.

“It was nothing, seriously. Just doing my makeup, that’s all!” Bill awkwardly laughed.

They did not buy it.

Melody shot him a befuddled look, probably thinking about how she had previously offered to help Bill cover his eye bags. The makeup itched and he ended up wiping it all off in the kitchen sink within minutes of wearing it. Then there was the fact that it was in completely the wrong shade- Melody was puff pastry pale compared to Bill. Bill had looked like a clown, and she knew that because he made sure that she knew that.

Soos seemed to also have his doubts. “Dude, I’ve seen you using gloves to do the dishes. We know you have a touchy-feely thing.”

"Okay, I get it, dogpile on Bill for being a weirdo about your GROSS human things you have all over the place-"

Ford started. “Bill, that is not the point-"

“I called my henchmaniacs, and they called the cops on us. Are you happy now?”

The rest of the house was in agreement that this was a good thing. That they could get Bill out of the way and likely get help with the human body situation.

Bill had to remind them of the portal that was still in pieces down in the basement.

“Sixer, if they hadn't already caught on that you were my accomplice before, they would definitely figure it out when they get a run of the place. Y'know, with all the outstanding warrants.”

Ford coughed, sheepish. “It hasn't been a problem before, why would it be any different now?”

Bill rolled his eyes. “Who do you think told them to leave earth alone? We had a mutual understanding that this dimension was mine.” It was more like an understanding that if anyone else so much as thought about touching Ford or his home that he would haunt them with nightmares for all of eternity, but he'd keep that to himself.

“Hold on-” Stanley shook his head. “How come this hasn't been a problem since he got thrown in prison?”

“Nothing I said to a therapist was admissible in a court of law.“ And even if it were, there was no way he would have spoken to anyone about it face to face. Bill did not talk to cops in any dimension.

Stanley squinted at him, face fixed half in disbelief and half in just befuddlement. “That’s convenient.” He scoffed.

“Very.” Bill stared right back, eyes twitching from the strain of binocular sight, but he did not blink.

Stanley looked away. “How can we be so sure that you're not making this up? That this isn't some kind of scheme of yours.” He asked.

“Don't take my word for it, I guess you can just wait for the cops to frisk the place!” Bill laughed.

Stanley rolled his eyes, shoulders crossed. “You better not be making this up.”

Melody spoke up then, looking about ready to explode. “So now what? How long is that going to take? Does it work like it does here, or what?”

“It depends on the dimension, what jurisdiction we fall under,” Ford answered for Bill, earning his own pointed stare. “If we fall under any at all. Last I was told, we did not. My friend did not tell me how exactly a situation like this might proceed, I was a little occupied with…”

“Destroying me? Yeah, Pointdexter. We all get it. You were on a mission to defeat Bill Cipher all by yourself like a big boy- and he MISSED, if any of you were wondering, by the way.” Bill laughed, trying to fill the awkward silence. Ford coughed.

“Ooohhhhhh.” Soos mumbled something to himself about ‘headcanons’ and that he needed to update his ‘fanfiction.’

“Anyways, whaddya say you see how fast you can cover up the downstairs while I take care of my pugs- I mean jugs of lemonade. They need a walk.” Stan said.

No one made any mention of the small fact that everyone in the house knew about the pugs.

Ford hummed thoughtfully to himself. “I could use one of Fiddleford’s prototypes, it has promising cloaking capabilities. Perhaps if I laid over some tarp…”

Bill ended up being dragged into the kitchen by Soos's Abuela, followed shortly by Soos and Melody. She insisted that the three eat before dinner got cold, and it was genuinely difficult to argue with the woman. Seriously, Bill had tried once and she just went on with what she was saying as if she hadn’t heard him.

Bill ate his portion hastily, not tasting much of anything. Then he had made to make a quick trip to the bathroom, an unfortunate necessity in this human body, and one he was sure they would allow him without question. This was, of course, just too suspcious apparently. They would only let him go if he had someone to escort and supervise him.

There was a window, awkwardly placed across from the toilet, but just high enough that there was no way to see someone on the seat. And that was if you could see through and into the bathroom in the first place, it was on the second floor after all. Bill stood for a moment, a backup plan forming in his mind. If he could just get through that window and safely onto the ground, then he could- well, he could figure it out. He would figure it out. All he needed to do was go. The only thing stopping him was the window screen.

Without hesitation, he threw his hand forward at the screen- almost punching a hole through it. With a groan, he tried again. And Again. Five times before he finally bent the frame of the damn thing and was able to pop it out. It fell to the ground outside with a faint clatter.

Freedom. It was so, so damn close. All there was left was to get this vessel through the window. Wedging his form through would be a piece of cake with the newly healed ribs! It might just take a minute of playing twister with the wall.

Don't worry, they said, we won't look they said, you'll have privacy they said.

Yeah, well they still opened the door when they heard the sounds of him pushing the bug screen out of the window, they still pulled him out of the small window by his legs- not that he was even fitting through in the first place! It was the human vessel's hips holding him back! He had tried popping them out of place, but it was of no use.

In the end, they took him back into the living room, and made it more than clear that they would not be taking an eye off of him until the authorities got here.

Complete squares.

Chapter Text

It was stupid, Dusk thought. In hindsight, it really was stupid not to consider that there would be some sort of afterlife. After all, what was the point of ending your life if you would continue to suffer existing? Or some equally as melodramatic thing that Dusk could go over in his head again and again. He only had eternity as a ghost to do it.

That was assuming he was a ghost at all. Honestly, Dusk had no clue what he was. He had a vague enough sense of where- somewhere in the forest. The scene of the statue had been left days ago, if his sense of time was still accurate. He had been wandering around for at least a week now.

Wandering through trees and along all sorts of paths. Everything around him was painfully washed out, adding a surreal sense to the landscape.

He had been trying to locate the road before, in hopes of finding the shack from there. There had always been some feeling of foreboding since he came to, always the distant mumbling of voices in one ear, no matter where he was. They only grew louder as he had come up on the road. Until he had to hold his ears and take deep, gasping breathes. It all came to a head once he had reached the road. The natural sounds of the forest were all but entirely gone by then, inaudible against the screams. The cries for help and sobs were all he could make out anymore- and so he turned back into the forest for fear of what he would find if he headed out any further.

The horrible screaming did not stay quiet for long. Dusk only found himself heading deeper in the forest, at points unable to see the sky above the treelines anymore. There was no longer any sense of night or day. Just the yelling and screaming.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to not regret making that deal. He wasn't in some karmic-alternate-universe therapy realm, nor was he entirely gone to the world. He was running now, desperate for any sort of end to the noise, and just finding himself going along the same paths again and again. Where was the statue? Weren't ghosts known to be tethered to their resting place or something? It really made no sense.

Finally, Dusk fell to the ground, hands around both ears as he curled up, eyes screwed tight as he lay there. His throat was tight and dry from overuse, he realized. When had he started crying?

"Just breathe, Little Star."

A soft voice gently chimed in his ear, and against everything, it could be heard over the yelling.

What the fuck? Dusk's legs feel like jelly as he stumbles up onto his feet. What fuck was that?

"I'm a friend, it will be alright. You're almost there, haven't you already gotten this far?"

Did… Dusk say that out-loud?

There was a giggle, and suddenly the forest was alive again, the crowing of birds and shaking of the trees above were the only thing Dusk could hear. Relief passed through Dusk like wave.

"Yes, you did."

Dusk laughed. "Did you do this?"

"No. That was all you, Little Star."

There is a flash of confusion at that, but Dusk shakes his head. It really didn't matter. "Who… are you?" He asked.

"Like I said, a friend, I have come to bring this particular journey to an end."

With that, Dusk looked down and realized that the dirt and grass at his feet were parted, it was another path. His feet are moving fast before he can fully process what he's doing as he breaks into a sprint.

It opens into a clearing. At first, Dusk can barely understand what he's looking at, the brightness was harsh and overwhelming- mutely he notices that his head is aching again. He blinks harshly. Once. Twice. "What… are you?"

"Oh," the being laughed. "I apologize. Sometimes it's easy to forget that few beings can truly see me like this. Bill never seemed to have a problem."

Then there is a huge, bright pink axolotl floating before him.

The sight clarified nothing.

"Bill? Like Bill Cipher?" Dusk asked, not any less confused than he was before. "How do you know him?" It dawned on Dusk then that maybe he should have been more suspicious of a voice in the woods. A voice, in the afterlife, in the woods. Distantly, he could once again hear a screaming chorus echo.

"Perhaps this is not the place to talk."

All at once, the clearing falls away. Around them is an inky void, white specks shined brightly in his periphery. Dusk seems to float, unsure of what to make of anything that was happening. His heart started to pound and his lungs felt tight. "Where are we now?! What's going on- How do you know Bill-?" Dusk panicked, trying to run and finding zero footing to go anywhere.

The being before him seemed to sigh. Not in a way that Dusk could hear it, but the sensation was there in the air, rippling like a wave. It was kinda cool. Would have been much cooler if Dusk had any idea what was happening-

"Please, calm down, little one." It bent down so that is stood there on all four limbs, and so that it no longer towered over Dusk. "I can see that I have frightened you. I apologize for that… one."

Dusk couldn't help it. "Why do you keep rhyming like that? I thought it was just me at first, but I keep hearing it- it's getting weird, dude. That one wasn't even that good." Dusk could feel himself tense as he realized he was completely ripping into some kind of monster, ghost, demon, creature- thing. Demon, most probably, if it knew Bill.

It shook it's head. "I am the Axolotl. And Bill is not a demon, not strictly by Earth standards. I think a more fitting term may be 'ghost' if the definition serves me right," It floated to Dusk's side, tail waving. "And I like rhymes, they are a delightful past-time. Now please, one question at a time, let them form a line."

Somehow, that rhyme had to be even worse. It shot him a sheepish look.

Okay, so Dusk had a lot of burning questions. About everything that was happening, about where he had been. Questions about whether or not he was dead and this was some kind of sick joke. Questions about Bill. Questions about the Axolotl itself. He vaguely remembered from skimming the end of that book that Bill was in therapy, which made this the guy who checked him in. What did it want with him? Dusk took a staggering breathe, trying to ground himself. Maybe he should just start with the stuff the thing definitely knew.

"Where are we?"

"Oh this? This is my tank."

Dusk's eyes screwed in confusion, this still clarified nothing. "Where is that?"

"Hm, I suppose you might call this another universe, one outside of time, and outside of conventional dimension. It is my domain. I came to being here, and it is where I find my rest. Everything here is to my needs. Aside from the stars." It hummed. "Those are for Bill."

Huh, that was interesting.

"So… how do you know Bill? What are you?"

"Those are two questions, Little Star."

Dusk groaned. "Fine, can you, I dunno- tell me why I'm here?"

"That is simple, I brought you here so that you may be returned to your body."

Oh, so that meant it worked. It worked and there was a way for him to be returned to his body. His body. His body wasn't a corpse, or buried six feet under. Dusk floated in stunned silence for a moment. "Am I not dead?" He asked.

Large arms scooped him up then as the Axolotl pulled him close. It was a warm feeling that seemed to permeate Dusk's entire being. It made his head feel fuzzy and his eye's heavy like when he was little and had just finished a hearty meal from his mom on a sick day. The memory made him tear up. "Oh, little one, it wasn't your time. It never was." That was what it took to break the dam. The Axolotl continued to hold him close as he sobbed into it's neck.

"I- I never thought I'd make it to be like this. I didn't expect to be here," He choked. "I didn't think, I didn't think about it. I went to school to make them happy. I kept my head down and my problems to myself, until- until- My family- it was an accident! They were never supposed to know," He heaved another choked sigh, The Axolotl did not interrupt him. "And now I'm alone, and running out of options, and I was too much of a coward to make it stop myself until I found this book…" He sniffled. "And you know how well that went, I guess. I just thought I found a friend, and he wanted something I could give him. The worst that was gonna happen was I was going to die or something, right? And that's what I wanted anyways…" Dusk sighed, trying to wipe tears and snot from his face without getting it on this being. The Axolotl took it with grace when it got an elbow to the face, wordlessly helping to wipe some of the tears.

"I'm sorry," It eventually said as Dusk wiped the last of his tears, looking up to it with red rimmed eyes. "It must be hard to feel so alone. I'm sorry that Bill reached you at such a hard time, he should never have been able to take advantage of you." There was real guilt and sorrow in the being's voice, a sentiment that Dusk could feel almost viscerally.

"'s okay, it's not your fault…right? Besides, Besides, I'm an adult, I can make my own decisions."

The Axolotl nodded down in acknowledgment. "Yes, but make no mistake, none of this was any fault of your's. I promise. Bill was my ward, and ward of the theraprism- the failure to properly contain him- that responsibility lies with us."

Dusk shrugged, not sure what to really say. At the end of the day, it really did feel like this whole thing was on him. The whole deal with Bill thing, not any of that other crap. Maybe Dusk shouldn't have tried taking the easy way out, maybe he should have just put the damn book down. It was a freaky, possessed book that demanded his blood, what did he expect was going to happen? Dusk thoughts ran in circles until he remembered that the two of them were having a conversation. He took in a sharp breath.

"Prison, I get, but how is Bill your responsibility?"

The being made a vague hand waving gesture with it's other hand. "Bill has burned many bridges in his lifetime. I am the last thing he has left."

Dusk still burned with more questions, but coming to the forefront of his mind had to be…

"What is Bill doing now?"

The Axolotl heaved a heavy sigh.