Chapter Text
The tree stood tall beside the shack, its branches long, sturdy, and covered in rich green needles. It had been nearly forty years since it had been planted, and it still flourished, always green, always beautiful. Mabel would still visit it from time to time, but less so as the years passed. She didn’t have as much time to go to Gravity Falls, now always busy with her fashion line. But she’d always come to the tree at the end of the summer on those final days and talk to it. Grunkle Stan and Ford had long since passed away, so she was the only one who visited the tree. The mystery shack was now run by Melody and Soos’ kid Jamie. He was a bright man, and his own wife was pregnant as well.
The town had moved on from the time the tree had been planted. But one person—or rather demon, hadn’t. People had begun to expect to see the triangle demon sitting in the branches of the tree, resting against its trunk. He’d just sit there, eye closed, never saying a single word to passersby. He was practically powerless anyway. Before Ford had died, he’d managed to figure out a way to recreate the barrier that surrounded Gravity Falls, and contain it to a bubble four feet across around Bill, magic trapped inside. However, Bill could still move around the Falls if he used enough force against the barrier.
He tried to escape at first, but seemingly after forty years he’d given up, and just spent all his time in the tree.
No one had seen him leave it in years. Sometimes he’d move around its branches, kicking birds out and tossing off nests. It wasn’t uncommon to go towards the mystery shack and see birds’ eggs broken and their contents oozing into the dirt. Jamie would try to clean it up sometimes, but more often than not he just avoided the tree altogether.
Most people did. It was a grim reminder of what had happened that summer so many years ago. Bill’s presence in the tree didn’t really help either.
The end of the summer was fast approaching, and Mabel had just shown up for her yearly visit to the shack—but mostly to the tree. Her hair lined with grey was drawn back into a ponytail, and she was wearing one of the sweaters that had gotten her famous in the world of fashion design. Smile lines marred her eyes, but as she approached the tree, there was a lingering sadness to them.
Wind rustled the branches softly, needles seemingly shushing one another as she knelt down beside the tree. Mabel didn’t even look up at Bill, though she knew he’d be there. She held out a flower, and placed it on a root of the pine tree. She then leaned against the trunk, and closed her eyes, forcing back the inevitable and familiar tears. The wind pushed the needles once more, and a few yellowed and dry ones were coaxed off of the branches and onto the ground.
“Happy birthday, bro-bro.”
Bill rolled his eye upon hearing that, retreating further into the tree. He didn’t want to hear Mabel’s conversation with ‘Dipper’. Again. Every year, the goddamn same. Always yammering on and on to ‘Dipper’. It’s just a tree. Bill glanced at the branches around him, absent-mindedly thumbing one between his fingers. Not only was it just a tree, but it had been forty years since it had been planted. Mabel should have been over it by now. Dipper was dead. Move on.
The branch between his fingers broke, yellowed needles falling from it. Bill looked at it curiously, before just sighing and leaning against a different branch. And as Mabel began to talk to ‘Dipper’ about what had changed in her life, Bill wished he had ears so that he could cover them.
“It’s been a pretty busy year… I actually entered some items into an auction in New York. You should’ve seen it, Dipdop. They were bidding on a sweater I made back in the twenties, and it sold for a couple hundred dollars. The money’s going to charity of course, but it was so cool to see people liking my work. It wasn’t even that great of a sweater to be honest.”
She continued on for about ten minutes, going into details about her new line of clothes, the people she’d met, and the opportunities she had. Finally, she paused for a second, before continuing on in a somewhat softer voice.
“I miss you Dipper. I wish you were here.” Mabel sighed, picking up a stray needle, and rolling it between her fingers, “I hope you’re having a good time in heaven.”
Bill finally snapped, calling back, “Heaven’s not real.”
Mabel tensed up, and the end of the pine needle pricked her finger, earning a drop of blood. She didn’t say anything for a moment, and instead just looked up into the tree’s branches at Bill. He was staring down at her, eye narrowed.
“Hello, Bill.”
“Shooting Star.”
“Still haven’t left the tree then?” She looked at him with faded contempt.
“No. Still talking to thin air?”
She didn't respond for a moment, but then just sighed, leaning back against the tree, "Why are you still here, Bill?"
"As if I'd tell you."
"What, is it all part of your 'plan'? The one that Ford thwarted by putting you inside that barrier?"
"Shut up, Star."
"You're the one who decided to talk to me!" She stood up, glaring at him, "Bill, it's been forty years. You're sitting in the tree growing out of my brother's grave. You don't even leave, and you never even say why.”
"You want to know why?” He hesitated for a second before continuing, “It’s—it’s to rub it in yours and the rest of their faces."
"That you lost?" Mabel responded, though she knew all too well what the other meant.
"That I killed him."
She stared at him then, meeting his gaze for a short moment before just shaking her head softly, closing her eyes. She didn’t say anything either, and that just irritated Bill even more. She brushed off some of the dirt from her skirt and then turned to walk away.
Bill scoffed, and then jumped off one branch to land on another, eye widening in surprise when it snapped. Mabel turned around at the noise, seeing him floating above the splintered wood where it had broken. He moved closer to examine it, and ran his hand along it. It was completely dry. He blinked, glancing towards Mabel, and with a sneer to his tone, he called out to her.
"You should really get someone to water this tree you know, or else 'Dipper' is going to die twice."
The terrified expression she returned would probably be all the entertainment Bill would get in a long time. He laughed as she stormed inside the shack and slammed the door. She was still such a kid. She'd never be more than the sister of the boy who died trying to save the world. Bill picked off pieces of the dry wood from the stump of a branch, tossing them to the ground.
He wondered what would happen if the tree actually did die. He'd have to find a new place to stay, for one. Maybe it was time to leave anyway. Try to escape once more. But the more he thought about it, the more he wanted the tree to remain where it was. It was a good home base, he argued with himself. A smart location to look over the shack.
Besides, no one bothered him here. He practically owned the thing. He'd killed Dipper, and even now he owned what Mabel thought was his soul.
Pine Tree was his.