Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Pines twins stopped the apocalypse. They left the old town safely. Mabel pursued a degree in fashion, while…

…Mabel’s body stayed there.

She passed away.

“Axolotl,” Bill said flatly. He leaned back on a green couch, looking straight at the creature behind the glass. It was a circular room with its walls completely made out of glass, with an endless pool of water behind them.

“I see you’ve created another form after your death.” The axolotl, the God of Timeflow, had a smile fixed on his face. More creepy than disarming.

“‘Death’ is an exaggeration. The Pines essentially banned me from their dimension, by erasing my presence in it. I still exist outside of it.”

“You request a way to get back, though.” 

Bill snapped his eyes up at Axolotl, whose massive form towered a few meters above him.

“It benefits you, too. To have me available to deal with any threats to the realm of Gods,” he argued.

“That’s why I have an offer for you.” Axolotl paused and swept his tail over the sand he stood on, taking a step forward. “Well, I could rewind that timeline to give you a second chance, but according to my estimates, you would still fail to fulfill your Weirdmageddon prophecy.”

“Ax—”

“I will send you back, with just a few conditions.”

Bill frowned. He never did like relying on Axolotl. With a glaring lack of alternatives, he was forced to nod and listen.

Axolotl’s smile widened. “For the timeline to remain stable—you killing Time Baby had me working overtime already—you must take care of... Yes, that twin who escaped your little prison…”

Bill hummed, defiantly noncommittally. 

“Then, the U.S. government is going to—or, well, it has covered up what happened. I need you to ensure nothing gets out. Aside from Mabel, Dipper is the only remaining Zodiac who’s outside the town. If anyone would cause us trouble, it’s him.”

“Pine Tree? What do you want me to do with him?”

He wanted to ask Axolotl more—why him?—but the damn amphibian wouldn’t share.

“The mind is your expertise, Cipher. Just… keep an eye on him.”

“Why not simply kill him, too?” Bill decided to ask.

Axolotl swam a whole circle around the room before starting on his answer. Like a silent, drawn-out sigh. 

“Oh, you can, but I don’t think you will.”

A flicker of red flashed in Bill’s eyes. The “keeper of timelines” was right, frustratingly, as always. Because getting back into the human world was never the end goal. No, it was far bigger, and who else would be as useful as his own puppet?

That sterile room should not be a place to find familiar. How often had Dipper sat on a plastic chair by her bed? Once again, he took his seat in silence. Today, Mabel was asleep. Under heavy chemo, she got more and more exhausted. 

The patient next to her said hi—she was an older teen, who had an ever-growing stack of Stephen King novels by his bed. Dipper made some small talk with her, quiet enough to not wake Mabel up. Well, sometimes he thought he could scream and she wouldn’t even twitch. 

A male nurse walked in with a trolley. The rattling wheels broke up the eerie sanctity. 

“Good morning,” Dipper mumbled, recognising his face, and refusing to give him any of his time.

He flashed a smile at him as he approached Mabel’s bedside. “Dipper, kid, how are you? Oh, excuse me, I gotta pass through.” 

Dipper pushed his chair back, giving the nurse access to her IV. He talked so loudly, and Dipper supposed that’s why he didn’t like him. 

The nurse frowned as something started beeping rapidly. A yellow warning light flashed. The teenage girl behind him let out a gasp. Suddenly, the room was filled with doctors—

Dipper woke up with a racing heart. His head jerked up from his cluttered, narrow desk in his dorm room. His phone was going off, the same beeping from his dream. As he rubbed his eyes, he picked it up, barely looking at it.

How long was he going to have those nightmares for? They seemed to be getting worse instead of better. 

“Hey Dipper!” The other end of the line was noisy, and Dipper concentrated to hear the words. “Are you still on for tonight? We’re at Dante’s and missing you.”

It was the boisterous voice of Alex, a guy he met in his European history course. Slowly, his body was brought back to the present.

“Right, sorry, I, uh, passed out studying,” he answered groggily. 

“You better hurry—Rachel is paying for the first round. Oh, and she brought a friend along and he is hot . She’s actually gonna try to set you two up. God knows you need the help.”

Dipper laughed awkwardly. He fidgeted with his pen for a second before saying anything.

“I don’t know about that… My head’s pretty full.” 

“That’s why you should come. She already told him about you and he didn’t run away screaming. Come on.”

Dipper sighed. In all his antics, Alex really did just want to help. Last year, Dipper had tried to ask him out, before finding out he and Rachel were a thing. Even after the awkward talk that followed, they remained friends. Without him, he would probably never leave his dorm.

“Fine, I’ll be there in a sec.”

After he hung up, he stared at his phone wallpaper for a moment too long. It was a picture of him and Mabel, painting and drawing, when they were eleven. He remembered how he’d splattered yellow paint on her, and she’d drawn circles over his cheeks. In the picture, she was smiling brightly, as if that paint on her nose was a constellation of stars.

He’d stayed nearby, choosing to study in Portland. Here, he majored in history with a minor in theology. It was the closest he got to seeking answers for things he couldn’t explain. Myths and fables. Everything that wasn’t connected to modern hospitals and crushing student debt. Everything that filled the hole of a ruined childhood. 

A brisk wind hit Dipper’s face as he walked outside. He’d only brought a thin jacket, which was fine in the late-spring sun, but now easily let the cold air through. It was a short walk, though, and after a few crossings, the bar’s lights came into view.

Dante’s was a popular college bar in Portland. The bass of the live band vibrated through his body as soon as he came inside. He moved through the mass of people with apologies, searching the crowd for his friends. He found them sitting at the bar. Rachel and Alex were there with two other vaguely familiar faces from either shared classes or previous hangouts—he wasn’t sure about which, let alone their names. 

“Dipper!” Rachel yelled, already sounding tipsy.

They started talking and Dipper wanted to order a beer, before Rachel cut him off and ordered four shots. Right as Dipper found an empty bar stool to join them with, he bumped into someone. 

“Oh, excuse me, I gotta pass through. My friends are—” he said to Dipper.

Before he could respond, Rachel’s eyes lit up, right before hardening.

“William! This is him, don’t be rude.” 

The stranger, William, was tall, and Alex hadn’t exaggerated. He had blonde hair with dark roots falling over warm copper skin. His rolled-up sleeves revealed tatted forearms. When Dipper dared to look into his eyes, he was met with a bright hazel color that held a golden glow when they caught the light a certain way.

“My apologies. Dipper, right? It’s a pleasure.” William flashed a genuine grin, his eyes creasing, as he picked up two of the shot glasses. “Rachel told me a lot.”

His mind went blank. Something about William’s everything... His tone and smooth movement—he’d somehow gotten closer to him, not helping—reminded him of fae and their charms.

“Right…” He steadied himself against the bar.

William laughed and handed him the shot. Dipper noted that he wore rings around three of his fingers. Before a silence fell, Rachel put an arm around Dipper’s shoulder. A bit of alcohol spilled over his hand.

“It’s chartreuse. To celebrate our vacation. We’re almost out of the exam halls, babe!”

At the start of the summer break, they had a trip to France planned. Dipper gave her a half-smile. He’d be even further away from home. From his insomniac nights.

The liquor looked toxic in color but smelled sweet enough. They were probably right in that he needed it. Especially if he was going to talk like a functioning person to the stranger.

William raised his glass. “Cheers, pretty boy.”

“O-oh, cheers!” 

Wait, he’d heard that right, didn’t he? 

The alcohol burned his throat, but it wasn’t bad at all. It tasted sharp but had that sweetness to it. Rachel had let go of him. William said something but he couldn’t hear it. His brain was following too many thoughts at once.

“What?” he asked, way too delayed. 

William only laughed at him before repeating himself, bringing his mouth closer to his ear. His warm breath tickled.

“I’ll get you another drink. What do you want?”

“Just a beer, uh, thanks, really, thank you.” He wasn’t sure if that was an improvement yet.

While William flagged down the bartender, Dipper took a breath to calm down. Rachel was talking to Alex next to him, which was easily tuned out. He hadn’t had anyone he liked since the Alex period. He enjoyed the rush it gave him. And this man wasn’t really a stranger. He knew Rachel. Dipper could rest his anxiety-ridden mind. Just, be cool .

William came back with two drinks. 

“How did you meet Rachel?” Dipper asked him. 

“Well…”

Rachel, perking up at the sound of her name, interrupted. “Oh, we’ve known each other for ages. I don’t even remember.”

“Exactly,” William affirmed.

“You should’ve told me about him sooner, then.” Dipper cracked a smile before taking a sip of beer.

“I live far out of the city, just here for some work assignment.”

“What do you do?”

A pause. “Forest conservation. I’m working with the university to exchange knowledge.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the implication that this man was probably quite a bit older hit. Without a second thought, he pushed it away, not able to bring himself to care when William’s honey voice swept him along.

William ordered him drinks throughout the night. Somewhere in between a joke about Dipper’s eye bags and an anecdote about how he ran into a deer on a hiking trip, William had pulled him away from his friends, towards an empty corner table. Dipper leaned against it, and William caged him in.

“Dipper… You really are too pretty to go home alone tonight.”

“Oh,” he muttered blankly. How much legwork was the alcohol doing for this? He was fixated on the man’s eyes. 

“Please allow me to have you.”

Dipper looked around for Alex, but couldn’t find his spiky, gelled hair. Oh, fuck it. He nodded, but William waited on a verbal confirmation he couldn’t give. In a haze and with blood flowing to his pelvis, he pulled William closer and kissed him. 

It wasn’t his first kiss, but it fooled him into thinking it was. Like his body being set on fire. All the descriptions of romance novels that seemed fake-to-problematic, but that this man encompassed thoroughly. Just for a moment, he forgot about everything. The past was past. He could do this— live. It was way more than what therapy had ever achieved. He lamented the moment their lips parted, but it was only to catch their breath, and William collided back into him. 

When they exited the bar, the cool spring air and sudden quiet was like an ice water bucket to the face. He noticed for the first time that he was swaying, and William held his arm.

“Careful, Dipper,” he murmured close to his ear. 

His sudden awareness of his drunken state had an adverse effect. William’s eyes widened as Dipper fell against the wall of the building, covering his mouth with his hands. He felt bile rising up from his throat and could taste the bitter alcohol that came with it.

William managed to keep him upright and held his too-long hair as he puked out everything he’d drunk. He kept heaving as his insides started to burn. William did step back quickly, narrowly avoiding dirtying his shoes.

“Take it easy—easy , you’re okay.”

There was something admirable in Dipper’s ability to be completely focused on his embarrassment even at the moment. He pushed William away as he tried to compose himself. 

Fortunately, after that first wave, his body somewhat calmed down. As in, he wasn’t actively throwing up.

“Shit , I’m sorry. Thank you. Uh, I can go to my place—”

William grabbed his arm a bit too tightly. “I’m definitely not letting you go home alone. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

Stuck between his humiliation and the distant fear of giving a stranger his address, he mumbled something incomprehensible. His eyes focused on a flickering street lamp, just to avoid looking at William.

William continued. “I can try calling Rachel, if that’s better. Or, still, my apartment is all the way south, so it’ll be a long walk, though—”

Was he going to refuse him now? There was some relief in that William didn’t seem to be annoyed at him, or just in the fact that he did not simply leave. Maybe, sober, Dipper would have been suspicious of his continued kindness. But, the nausea was washing away, and it stopped being an excuse.

He remembered the way William had tasted. Beyond the lingering chartreuse.

“Just—just take me home, please,” he muttered, grabbing William’s arm. It was half for support, half for emphasis. 

“I got you.”

William supported him on the way back home, which seemed way longer than it should’ve been, but at the same time passed in a vague blur.

Dipper flicked on the light in his apartment, revealing the bland living space. William started looking around, for some godforsaken reason still interested in him and his life. 

As Dipper kicked off his shoes, William spoke up.

“Nice hat,” he said, pointing to a white and blue cap placed on one of his shelves, “A pine tree, like Pines.”

Dipper frowned. It wasn’t anything interesting based on its appearance alone. Just something you could get at every damn gift shop in the state. So why would anyone take note of it?

But, he liked William for that. For caring. “I got it from an old friend, when I was twelve. It’s all I have left from a summer vacation.”

Likely sensing the wavering tone of his voice, William pulled him closer. “You can tell me about it, if you want, Pine Tree.” 

William laughed at his own pun, but Dipper shook his head. “Don’t. That’s not funny.” It came out harsher than he intended.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

There was an awkward moment before Dipper sighed. “It’s fine. That summer… Well, my sister and I visited our great uncle in Gravity Falls, but then Mabel, she got sick, and we spent the rest of the vacation in hospital rooms. She passed away from leukemia by the end of the year.”

“That must’ve been awful.”

“I’m gonna wash my face,” he replied coldly. Suddenly, being in William’s proximity made his skin crawl.

William looked as if he’d been slapped by the shift in atmosphere. Dipper stared back at him hollow-eyed before locking himself in the bathroom with an armful of clothes. 

He scrubbed his face and brushed his teeth until he got out the bitter stench of vomit. At least he was starting to sober up a bit—the room wasn’t spinning all that much. 

Why did he throw that all on William? That was unfair. He just… was surprised by how quickly William had distracted him from it all. And then he’d brought him right back to the memories. Which, except for the nauseating patient room and depressing hospital hallways, were a blur. He’d mentioned his great uncle, Stanley. He passed away shortly after, too, but Dipper didn’t even remember a funeral. Maybe there hadn’t been. It was all… a lot of shit in his brain jumbled together. No therapist had managed to sort it out.

“Are you okay?” William knocked on the bathroom door, gently, but it startled him all the same.

“I—give me a moment.”

There was no reason to be upset at him. It wasn’t William himself but the topic that got to him like this. He leaned his forehead against the mirror in defeat. First he almost puked over the guy’s dress shoes, and now he’d traumadumped before bolting out. William had already left the door, judging by his footsteps. A bit scared that he’d leave completely, Dipper jumped into action. He changed into a clean shirt and sweatpants and returned to the main room. 

Thank whatever deity watched over him. William was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring out the window. He turned around when Dipper entered.

“Sorry for that,” Dipper mumbled. He came to a halt in front of William, standing between his legs.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” William argued, “But, really, I can leave if you’re more comfortable with that.”

He paused. He didn’t want him to leave. He’d be falling asleep and waking up in the same hospital room. William looked at him expectantly and nothing else needed to be said. 

Dipper shook his head and let himself be pulled into him. 

William’s body was lean underneath his shirt. His tattoos continued to his shoulders and upper back. They were all tribal-like patterns but none of which Dipper recognised from his mythology and folklore studies.

Automatically, as if his body was wired for it, Dipper closed any distance remaining between them. 

William paused. “One second, baby.” His fingers brushed over Dipper’s back as he messed with something.

Dipper was about to ask him what it was when he let go and a ring clattered onto the nightstand. It was one that he’d been wearing on his middle finger, with a gemstone set into it.

“It’s a topaz—an amulet of sorts, passed down my family. Can be sharp. Don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

Dipper was barely listening as he became once again caged into his arms. The bed creaked under their shared weight as Dipper grinded against him. William roughly kissed his neck and trailed further down. Their limbs tangled and once again, Dipper’s horrors were pushed to the back of his mind. How the fuck had he managed to end up like this tonight? 

“I don’t know what God I pleased to meet you,” William murmured, mirroring his thoughts. 

“I was overdue on karma.”

William gave him a wide smile, eyes sparkling in the dim light. 

Dipper woke up dazedly. He was in his own bed, covers thrown to the side. His old plaid-patterned boxers were discarded to God knows where. 

He wasn’t alone. A tanned arm was thrown over his stomach— William’s. As he turned around to look at him, his heart now racing, the other’s eyes fluttered open, giving him no time to compose himself.

“G’morning, Pine Tree,” he mumbled.

“Pine Tree?” He raised his brows, cheeks already starting to blush from the mere chance of being embarrassing.

William gave him a look. “You don’t remember? It was a joke from yesterday.”

God, he’d really drunk too much. “I remember you,” he said, diverting the question.

“Hopefully all positive things,” it was said with William’s easy smile. 

“Yeah… Uh.”

Dipper shut his mouth and, with definitely reddened cheeks now, kissed him on the nose as a reply. William froze for a moment, before muttering something he couldn’t hear. Had he made it awkward?

William just leaned into him, and Dipper didn’t have the time to worry when he parted his lips for him.

He’d slept with a half-stranger he met at the bar, for fuck’s sake. He could muster enough bravado to make his continued interest clear. 

Yes, he really was interested, he realized suddenly. The familiar fear of rejection, that each socially inept, nerdy kid had formed over years of shitty public school memories, crept up and settled in his stomach.

It meant something that William was still there, right? He remembered the flirting and chartreuse and making out. But now, in the morning, in bed, he looked a lot more real. His blond hair was a bird’s nest and his eyes weren’t as intense.

That reminded him to think of the present. “I don’t have much for breakfast, but if you’re hungry, I can—”

William interrupted him. “You know that pancake place nearby?”

“Of course! All right, but I’ll pay… I’m sure I owe you a lot.”

“I gracefully accept, Pine Tree.” He reached for Dipper’s hand, and for a moment it felt too cold. 

After breakfast, it hit. He’d just had a proper date.

They sat in a booth with a red-white checkered, plastic tablecloth between them. Their empty plates covered it. The proof that at least an hour had passed already. Time that had gone by in a rush. Dipper found himself talking more and more to him, just hoping that William was as engaged as he was. 

“Next time, I pay,” William said suddenly.

Dipper hadn’t even thought about the idea, not since waking up. As if he’d forgotten that William wasn’t a long-time friend, and that there was still a chance that he’d disappear out of his life after fucking him.

If William was confused about why he seemed to zone out for a second, he didn’t show it.

“Y-yeah. Okay.”

Dipper had had some obsessive crushes as a child, sure. But growing up, he was rational enough to understand how fickle dating was. It made no sense why his head couldn’t wrap itself around that when it came to William. Why it seemed so determined to revel in delusions of something being meant to be.

“Perfect.” William smiled. “Give me your phone.”

Dipper didn’t think about it as he obliged. He got it back with a new contact saved. “William Bellaso.”

Chapter Text

Bill found them easily. Only a few months had passed since Weirdmaggedon, despite what it might’ve felt like for himself, on the edge of dimensions.

High school had started for the twins. For a while, Bill watched, a disdainful observer to their trauma. It was painfully expected, dull , how one of them would avoid triangles and eyes and bats, and seemed to always jerk up when Bill invisibly appeared. His sister would console him, make a joke about paranoia, showing such optimistic strength that finally made him understand why Axolotl had told him what he had.

Shooting Star could be a problem. Especially one night, when Bill got too close and Pine Tree suddenly screamed out in his sleep. His sister quietly turned on the light and tiptoed to his bedside, eyebrows furrowed in worry, checking his irises and whispering a protection spell, not at all as dismissive as she was to his face. 

If he were to truly prepare his return, he needed to listen to Axolotl.

Without a physical body, he settled on entering her Mindscape the moment she fell asleep. 

He threatened Pine Tree’s life, laughing in her face all the while. It was exhilarating to finally be back in humans’ minds. 

“No one else knows how to ward me off, and you couldn’t stomach it anyway,” he told her, an intentional clue slipping through his lips. The rest of what came out of his mouth was nothing but lies.

It was so, so easy when Shooting Star broke out of it and blindly rushed towards her crafts boxes in the dark, finding a needle still holding a pink thread. Good thing that, in her panic, she made so much noise. She didn’t even notice when he woke up.

With a bit of blood she drew from her finger, she copied a symbol from Pine Tree’s journal. It was the right one— exile —he had to give her that. How fun that she still naively thought she’d outsmarted him. 

“Mabel…?” 

Pine Tree’s tired voice cut through the tension, before even becoming aware of it.

“Stay back! It’s him,” she yelled out to her brother.

Then, facing the empty spot where Bill had appeared in the Mindscape, “I banish you,” she said, full of misguided confidence.

It didn’t accomplish what she thought it would. It was Pine Tree who saw that first.

“Mabel, no! That’s not—”

It was too late for warnings. Bill possessed her body that she’d unwillingly separated herself from, and climbed onto the windowsill. The movements he puppeteered were wrong, bending her bones at impossible angles. Her disconnected soul started begging, now unable to reach anyone but Bill himself. Though, her eyes showed that they both knew she’d already lost. 

Pine Tree stared at her, him, in horror. Bill opened the window, and the harsh wind swept into the once safe bedroom.

“Bill! Please, don’t. Not her. I’ll…” He stumbled over the words and choked on his blind panic as he rushed to the window.

For a final time, Bill turned to the sister. “Don’t worry. I’ll remember your cooperation at the end of the world,” he told her, before taking that step backwards and letting go of the opened window. 

Pine Tree’s anguished cry added a nice finality to the fall.

The black sky engulfed her body for just a moment, too short for Bill to enjoy the sinking feeling in her gut. She fell with a horrifying crack onto the pavement, five stories down, her face twisted into his grin, insofar that could be recognised underneath the blood and bruise.

Posthumously, Bill was thrown out of her body, back into his place as nothing but his own eye. Out of morbid curiosity, he watched Pine Tree break in utter silence.

The way his face twisted in horror when he looked down upon the street instilled a deep, but temporary, satisfaction in Bill. One that began a history of Faustian fates and sacrificed cultists. The despair of humans, and the control over their fear. Weirdmageddon may have failed, but it was far from the end.

He could’ve killed Pine Tree—crumbled into a pathetic, sobbing mess—right there, but what a waste that would be.

In the end, all that remained of it—one of many wishful shooting stars in the sky that night—was a little triangle carved into the wall. Certainly the memories didn’t remain. 

Lately, Dipper couldn’t remember his dreams after waking up, either in his own bed or William’s.

That café from that first date turned into their regular spot. Then it became the nearby park, then the Portland observatory. Places that Dipper had walked past hundreds of times, but that were made special in the most cheesy, romantic way that Dipper didn’t know he was capable of experiencing.

By the time Dipper finished his last exam of the year, one about indigenous societies, he and William were basically joined at the hip, and he was barely getting over the disbelief of it all. 

“If I ever have to read Émile Durkheim again, I will break down,” Alex said, catching up to Dipper as they fled out of the exam building. It startled him, who’d been lost in his thoughts.

“We did it, though. By the way, that one question, about Oregon’s—”

“I’ll believe it once I get my grades.”

Dipper shrugged. Alex wasn’t interested anymore in what was on the exam. He’d have to look it up when he got home. 

They made their way across campus as they chatted. For Dipper, at least, the year was over—he knew he couldn’t have failed his exams. The weather had also turned hotter, finally. 

“How’s William?” Alex asked.

“He’s been busy with work, but for the rest it’s good. Really good.” Dipper was baffled by how quickly a goofy grin got plastered on his face, just by the mention of him.

To be fair, wouldn’t anyone? William was gorgeous and funny and everything . He still couldn’t believe this was real.

“You know, Rachel and I were thinking that he should come with us to France.”

“Oh, totally! I’ll ask him tonight.”

He’d almost forgotten about it. Of course William should come. Oh God, he hoped he could make time for it. It was a two-week trip. Should they have invited him earlier?

They stopped in front of Alex’ dorm building. “Rachel would ask him, too, if he ever replied to her. Seems like he’s very busy nowadays. With someone .”

Dipper blushed. “Hey, I’m not actively trying to hoard him.”

“Uh-huh. Well, see ya.” Alex waved him goodbye with a stupid, exaggerated wink.

The walk to his own building only took another five minutes. He couldn’t get that exam question out of his head. It seemed ridiculous. 

In his room, he rushed to his laptop, not bothering to take off his shoes. 

“Oregon folklore summonings,” he typed into his browser.

The results weren’t anything new. It was stuff about the popular myths of the region, like Colossal Claude and Sasquatch. So where had his professor taken those sketches from? 

He took the piece of scrap paper out of his pocket that he’d noted the question down on. “Symbols like these (see below) have been used in attempts to summon paranormal beings in northern Oregon. What are the important aspects of such occult symbols for practitioners, as per the literature?”

When further searching didn’t help, he decided to send his professor an email about it. 

It wasn’t just that it was something he’d never heard of, but that the symbols were familiar . 

Speaking of the devil, his phone lit up with an incoming text. It half-covered his new lockscreen. A picture of him and William at Holocene, terribly lit by vibrant club lights. William had both taken the picture and had dragged him there in the first place.  

“Dinner at my place tonight?” William asked. The message was accompanied by one of those stickers of cute animals surrounded with motion-blurred heart emojis that Rachel sent all the time. 

Dipper smiled in his palm. “ill be there in an hour.”

However he would describe William, his apartment was the opposite. That made sense, because it was barely his apartment. It was a temporary location he rented from a friend of a friend, for as long as he was in the city. All that to say, the tearing, beige wallpaper brought the most color into the place, and the gray couch and tv-set were obviously bought recently, making it feel like no one actually lived there. 

William stood in the kitchen with his back turned to him, whisking eggs and herbs. Dipper was transfixed by the way his shoulders moved. His shirt was still thrown over the sad couch, where Dipper had all but torn it off. His tattoos were on full display, which only increased his curiosity.

William really did something to him. It made him bolder, or at least Dipper didn’t have to act a certain way, like he did with others.

“Need help?” Dipper asked, walking up behind him. 

Some of the egg mixture spilled as William turned around. “Cut the leek for me?”

William picked up a knife, recklessly flipping it around to hold it by its blade. Dipper cautiously took it; brain wired on too many horror novels and Reddit stories. He wasn’t sure if it was William’s disregard for his own safety or something else that prompted it. 

He didn’t know what to say as he took the cutting board. The rhythmic chopping and the soft, 1930s song playing from William’s speaker were the only sounds for a while.

“Would you come with us to France?” Dipper eventually asked.

William tilted his head slightly. “With Rachel and Alex? When’s that again?”

“In two weeks—bit of a short notice, I know. We’re staying at this cottage in the south—”

“I’d love to, Pine Tree.”

“—But if… Wait, really?”

“My schedule is flexible enough. It’ll be fun.” William smiled.

A part of him wanted to tell him more about where they would be staying, and how it is the same region that la Bête du Gévaudan originated from, a tale that he’d been thinking about choosing as his thesis topic, but he wasn’t about to spoil a victory.

Even if he knew that William wouldn’t mind being dragged along to the dozen attractions and sites that Dipper had already looked up.

So, it was settled. And all Dipper had left to worry about was packing his bags, and hopefully getting an answer from his professor before they were set to leave.

Speaking of, he’d been meaning to ask William. By then, the quiche had been put in the oven, and Dipper sat perched on the kitchen table.

William approached him languidly, resting his hands on either side of Dipper’s thighs. He leaned in and Dipper dipped his head to press a kiss along his collarbone. 

“Pretty,” William murmured.

As Dipper trailed his fingers over the nape of his neck, he thought of the tattoos. William had pushed up Dipper’s shirt, letting his hands roam over his thin stomach, when he blurted out the question.

“Your tattoos… Are they, like, indigenous?”

It made William freeze into an awkward silence. Terrible, awful timing. Dipper cringed at himself.

“They’re… from my hometown. Localized versions of spiritual symbols for prosperity and such,” he said, absentmindedly spinning the ring around his finger.

“Here in Oregon, right? I’ve never come across them before.”

“Makes sense. It’s a small community.”

The conversation fell silent as Dipper realized he’d rather not have started it in the first place. William pulled him closer once again, letting go of the ring. Dipper didn’t get the chance to tell him about the exam or his curiosity. It didn’t matter, not then.

Never had Dipper received such an excited email reply. Genuine curiosity about non-required reading material paired with a question about the exam that didn’t boil down to complaints about the grading would do that.

So, his professor set up a meeting at the university library. Dipper arrived there as a wave of students walked passed. He pushed through them into the building, darting his eyes around to look for his professor—a middle-aged woman with a short afro and oval glasses. The library was almost empty, post-exams, and he realized that with that opportunity, he should spend more time working there, rather than his own cramped dorm.

“Dipper, dear! Good afternoon,” she said, revealing herself to be sitting at one of the long study tables. 

As he took the seat next to her, she pulled a thick, plastic folder out of her shoulder bag. The label was written in her neat cursive and read: “Oregon’s spiritual communities”.

“Hi, Mrs. Blubs, how are you? Thank you so much for making time for me.” He had his notebook and pen ready.

“It’s no problem at all. If this could fit into the curriculum, it would be front and center. I’m happy that you’re interested.”

“Why can’t it?” he asked, “And… Why? I’ve read a lot of your papers, none of which are really about anything you described.”

Mrs. Blubs leaned in closer to Dipper, and lowered her voice. “To answer both of those, most journals don’t seem to accept anything written on these topics.”

He’d tried to dismiss the paranoia he’d had, the feeling that it was somehow important, all his conspiracy theorizing, but this was more confirmation than he’d hoped for. He nervously clicked his pen. Maybe, his gut had been right.

“Please, tell me.”

“My family is from a small town in the Oregon forests. My younger brother became a cop there, and despite how uninteresting his work seemed on the surface—fitting for him—I always got the feeling there was more to it. But, I’d left for college, and at the time was working as a history TA in California, so I didn’t know more than what he told me over the phone. I became curious about the town, and when I was asked to join a project researching demographic patterns in the Pacific Northwest, I began looking into it. That’s when I found the first bit of truth.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“I’d taken a trip back home, half for the project, half for my family, and had gained permission to access the archive. There, I became intrigued by the archived pages of the local newspaper. So, imagine my surprise when I see a photograph of myself as a child on a twenty-year old frontpage. ‘Girl found injured in the forest, recovered safely in hospital’. ”

“What happened?”

“That’s the thing—I don’t remember. Not the forest, nor the hospital. I asked my brother, and he said I’d tripped or something, but he was also vague on the details. I recall a lot from my childhood, and would have remembered something like this. I couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to it.”

“Do you think you came into contact with something mythical?”

“I’ve tried for years trying to categorize these things. Folklore, religion, something else… That is to say, I’ve collected heaps of information about it. Some of the research I’ve come across dates back centuries. Take a look.”

She opened her folder of scattered notes and printed-out articles and dubiously scientific papers. The notes ranged from handwritten to typed with a typewriter. There were pencil drawings accompanying them. Some of strange shapes with a plethora of eyes and teeth, others of more recognisable figures.

Dipper dropped his pen when he read the town name. That tiny detail that she had omitted, because it wouldn’t mean anything to most.

“Gravity Falls,” he said in a whisper.

“Are you familiar?”

Technically, he wasn’t. It was a strange truth he had to contend with. All he had was that first week of summer, before… What he even remembered of that week was another question. There were the imposing trees surrounding the town, and his great uncle’s cabin. It might’ve been a store. 

So, what could he even say? 

“I’ve been there. A bit,” he stammered out. 

Bless his professor for not asking further, but it left him alone with his own questions. Mrs. Blubs ended up photocopying most pages, giving them to Dipper to take home. There wasn’t much more she could do for him. 

The stack of books proved to be less useful than his professor’s notebooks. Dipper soon realized that there was no single author of them, but that they spanned a long period of studying myths, all paranormal in nature. 

The page from the exam question really was a dead end, and so he had to find another reference to the symbols somewhere. It must exist, logically. Mrs. Blubs hadn’t been sure about them, but if everything else was real, these would be too.

The deeper he got into the notes, the more confused he became. It was when he was reading what was essentially an encyclopedia of Gravity Falls, just with far more oddities than what he’d ever expected, that he got thrown off of everything he’d been doing so far. Stuff that included searching for papers and cross-references for everything he was finding. Because this, this was far beyond that.

The buzzer rang right as he picked up his pen again. It was late already; he’d invited William over tonight—almost forgot. He let him into the building before looking back at the scattered research.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring, when William arrived, wearing a black, linen button-down. Dipper hadn’t slept much, and had turned to his research first thing in the morning. He probably should’ve at least brushed his teeth. Shit, he was way underdressed and underprepared.

“Hi,” he greeted wearily. 

William gave him a look that Dipper couldn’t decipher, before he took note of the state of his desk.

“You’ve been busy, Pine Tree.”

“Just helping a professor with something,” he lied. Obsessing over this research, he understood how crazy it made him look. Not to mention that it were William’s tattoos that had started it all. Dipper swallowed painfully. It didn’t mean that he liked hiding anything. It only added to the sudden, growing tension.

William carefully stepped closer to the desk, picking up a piece of paper. Dipper couldn’t exactly stop him without adding to the suspicion. “Oregon forests? I’d be happy to help you.”

“Thanks.” Though, Dipper had the feeling that forest and wildlife protection didn’t cover the things in that folder.

William flipped a page he shouldn’t have. His eyes flickered with something. Dipper froze as he read it.

“Dipper…” William said, softly. Oh, he hated himself. He recognised William’s tone of careful condescension all too well from therapists and teachers. The worry about Dipper’s state of mind. It always started with his name, which William never even used. “Gnomes and zombies. Is that really the direction this research is in?”

“It’s Mrs. Blubs’. It’s not like it’s about it being real, but the people who…”

“But this?” William turned over the page and his lips thinned. “Are you sure you’re being objective? I see—”

“That it’s about Gravity Falls?” It came out harsher than expected. “No, don’t look at me like that, Will! I know nothing can bring her back, and whoever wrote this is fucking crazy, but… But…”

He sobbed through it before the words got stuck in his throat. He didn’t tell William about that part in him that believed it. Or, at least felt like Blubs was onto something. Rationally, he knew it was stupid… It was all he had.

William pulled him closer and gently shushed him. There, wrapped in his arms, he let out his tears. 

“Sh… I know. I really do,” William assured, “That town is a bundle of loose ends, isn’t it? The one time you wanted to go back, your parents…”

Dipper nodded against his chest. His great uncle had invited him, probably a year before he passed away. But then came the divorce, and he was stuck between tension and moving boxes all summer. 

When had he told William about that, though? He’d thought… but he didn’t remember not telling him either.

“Yeah. I should really focus on my thesis topic. France is coming up, anyway.”

William tentatively let go as Dipper forced his breathing to steady. “Gevaudan, right? You really just keep questioning.”

Dipper forced a smile. He was left unsure of anything. There was a bit of a haze in his head. The more he searched for answers, the less he got.

“Did you still wanna go out tonight?” Dipper asked, blatantly changing the subject.

“Oh, let’s relax here for a little while first. Work was tiring…” 

Had William’s voice sounded as strained before? Probably, and Dipper just hadn’t paid attention. 

Guiltily, he squeezed William’s hand for a moment. “Of course, can I get anything for you?”

William shook his head, and then rested it against Dipper’s chest. The feeling of unease washed away.

William had been asking him about his research, pushing him to reconsider. It had been weird. What was Dipper supposed to make of William’s concerns that, when pressed, he always undermined himself, telling Dipper that he supported him? Talk about mixed signals.

The weather became warmer, and Dipper found himself spending most of his time either at William’s, where there was functioning AC, or outside. All he could really do was familiarize himself with the Gevaudan attacks. Leading up to their vacation, he almost forgot about Mrs. Blubs’ research as he emerged himself into the new thing that kept him occupied. Something that didn’t keep causing tension between him and his boyfriend.

After a manic five-hour research session on airplane wifi—courtesy of spending the entire night packing—Dipper slept through the entire connecting flight from NYC to Lyon. They arrived in the morning at 7 A.M. after nineteen hours of travel. 

William walked ahead of them, searching for the car rental place. Dipper could barely keep up with his pace.

“How are you not exhausted?” he asked, making a small sprint to catch up to him.

“I slept for a few hours, too. Cheer up, Pine Tree, we arrived.” At that, William grabbed his arm and pointed at a sign. “Well, almost.”

Dipper rubbed the sleep out of his eye and followed. It was Rachel who, with her decent French, talked to the attendant of the car rental while Dipper could nap by just leaning against William. 

“C’est pour deux semaines, mademoiselle?” he asked.

“Oui, merci beaucoup.”

”Bien, veuillez signer ces formulaires. Je vous donnerai la clé et vous pourrez payer par carte.”

With that, they were led to the car, a standard white Renault, with just barely enough space for their luggage. Alex started shoving their suitcases into the trunk with as much grace as a tapdancing Amhuluk. It got to a point where Dipper started fearing the safety of his laptop and books as Alex mistreated his bag. 

William left his post as Dipper’s upright pillow and took over the task like someone who could actually complete kindergarten “put the square in the square hole” puzzles. 

Rachel gave Dipper a look of frustration, and Dipper tried to convey his feeling sorry for her, while he also wondered if Alex’ brutishness was something anyone could be into, and if Rachel fell into that camp. He did not dare ask. Instead, he fished his phone out of his pocket to check if he had service yet. A 4G symbol appeared—cue for a sigh of relief—and loading his maps app proved to be successful. 

He started rambling, “So, it’s a three-hour drive to our address in Mende. And then we need groceries, and if we go to the nearby village for that, we can check out—”  

“Let’s just get three bottles of wine and we’re good,” Alex suggested, wiping some sweat off his brow. 

Dipper wanted to protest, but it was why he’d brought four different books on French folklore and myth with him in the first place. If they got drunk, he had more time for himself to keep investigating the possible explanations for the “beast” attacks.

“There’s the Gevaudan museum, right?” William quietly said to him, “I can come with you.”

“I’d like that.”

Alex shook his head as he involved himself. “Really, Will?” He side-eyed Dipper.

“Well, I’m not letting him go alone,” William said flatly. 

It was fair, what Alex thought. Since the beginning, William had been so extroverted. Probably not giving a single damn about any of Dipper’s obsessions, just tolerating them. Still, it hurt.

Many of the records—at least the modern ones—discussed the mass hysteria that befell the region about this alleged beast. Pointedly dismissive.

The lingering thoughts about Gravity Falls forced him to approach it from a more open perspective. What if it had been a real monster? How would that have shaped the community? What cultural traces would remain?

“Entre 1764 et 1767, des centaines de personnes furent victimes de ce que l'on appelé la Bête du Gévaudan. La théorie la plus acceptée est qu’il s’agissait d’attaques de loups, mais d’autres…”

Dipper walked through the empty exhibition halls with William in tow, reading signs and old texts in display cases.

In one room, he stood eye to eye with a bronze sculpture of it. A thin body crudely formed, with a large, roaring mouth. It wasn’t like most contemporary depictions of it, which boiled down to large, unruly wolves, but instead it was something more alien. Yes, from a distance it was a wolf, but the closer he got, the more its shape unnerved him.

As he stared into its dead eyes, claws dug into his shoulder and something led out a low growl by his ear. He jumped up, dropping his notebook and pen to the ground, and let out a scream. For a second, it was as if death had reached him.

Then, he just heard William snickering behind him. 

“Will! Jesus, you scared me.” At least they were about the only visitors at this time, an hour before closing. Dipper didn’t want his first experience here to be getting kicked out of a small-town museum.

William forced back his laugh. “That was the point, dear.” 

“Not funny.”

Dipper had just turned around when William fell into a coughing fit. First, he rolled his eyes, but it sounded genuinely painful.

“Hey, you okay?” he finally asked. William stood bent over, one hand gripping his knee and the other covering his mouth. 

“Y-yeah, just the tiredness catching up to me.”

“You’ve been ‘tired’ a lot, lately. Are you sure?” Dipper asked, but it cost him effort to care when he was still… He wouldn’t say mad, but something about, well, everything in the past weeks had him feeling on edge.

That didn’t excuse being a shitty partner. So, Dipper dragged him to a bench and forced him to sit down.

William combed a hand through his hair. “It might be the heat.” 

“Yeah, it’s hot today. I’m also feeling light-headed. We should probably meet with the others.”

As predetermined, the plan that night was to drink themselves into a stupor. Quickly having recovered, William humored them, and Dipper relented as well. Turns out that after a day of dragging his feet from landmark to landmark, he couldn’t be mad at any activity that involved sitting down. He’d gotten a headache, though.

The kitchen was attached to the living room, with the side tables and chairs plucked straight from the Rococo era, but if it were the Ikea version. There was no way that any of it was authentic, nor did Dipper wish for it to be with how carelessly his friends were lounging and drinking on the furniture.

At some point, in a quiet lull of the conversation, Rachel knocked over a candelabra, and the noise echoed through the cottage.

William broke the silence. “Terrible acoustics.”

“Spooky.” Alex let out a laugh. “Hey, Dip, what would haunt places like this?”

“Demons?” William added unhelpfully.

Dipper emptied his wine glass before answering. “Just ghosts. Victims of the beast’s attacks, maybe?”

“Attacks?” Alex asked.

Rachel elbowed him.

“The Gevaudan attacks?” Dipper said incredulously. “I’m writing on it… Like, been talking about it for—”

Alex shrugged and mumbled something that resembled an apology. That was enough socializing. With a too-loud clink, Dipper put down his glass and got up.

“Hm. Speaking of, I’m gonna go up to my room,” he announced, “Still got stuff to do.” 

“No, c’mon, let me pour you another glass.” Rachel already held the bottle in her hand.

“I’m good.”

He swiped his phone from the table, giving Alex one last tired glare, and left. 

He should’ve kept working on the Gevaudan project. It was useful preparation for next year, it really did interest him…

“Zodiac demon Gravity Falls,” he typed into his browser, not really thinking about what that meant.

Look, he remembered Will’s words. Believed them, even. It just didn’t explain the tattoos. And, sure, maybe he was getting on his nerves with his antics—that’s what vacations do to couples—and now Dipper refused to ask William directly. 

Scrolling through the results page, he landed on a community archive of sorts. There were photo scans of pages that looked to be similar to some of the handwritten notes in Blubs’ folder. Most of which he recognised, but others he didn’t .

Right after the page with that sketch, the one on his exam, which had started it all, was one that gave a depiction with description of more symbols, ones that didn’t match the tattoos, but still belonged to the same thing. He sucked in a breath. This was it.

The drawing was of a sigil. It had an outer band with ten of those symbols surrounding an eye of providence in the center. The notes scribbled around it called it the Zodiac. A way to contain an ancient power.

Dipper’s hand brushed over the sketch with a level of dread that didn’t make sense to himself. His head still hurt, almost as if it was getting worse as he tried to process what lay in front of him. He kept reading the accompanying text, which was easier to deal with. 

“The Zodiac is essentially the reverse of the demon’s summoning sigil, which fuels his magic for as long as it is active,” it read.

Dipper zoomed in on that first page. The “summoning sigil,” its symbols on William’s body.

Why did his head hurt so much? 

Back to the Zodiac, his eyes fell onto the Pine Tree. Exactly like the one on that stupid hat. William had commented on it, that first night, and Dipper had stormed off. 

He’d told him not to call him that, as it reminded him too much of Gravity Falls. Why had he forgotten about that until now?

And knowing that he’d said that to William, why had William kept using the pet name? 

Now in panic mode, Dipper retraced all his memories of William. The more he thought about it, the more things didn’t add up. 

“Trust no one,” was underlined at the bottom of the page.

Dipper buried his head in his hands and screamed as the migraine turned into something that was deeply, deeply wrong.  

There was a loud crash coming from downstairs, and the drunken chatter had come to a sudden stop.

Refusing to hesitate a second longer, Dipper rushed out of his room, his heart racing. His vision was spotty from the overload of information in his head. He ran into his charging cable and his laptop crashed to the ground. He didn’t pause. 

At the top of the stairs, he looked down into the hallway. No one was there, but there was noise coming from the living room. His friends were yelling, followed by harsh footsteps… A high-pitched scream rang through the house.

Dipper almost tripped down the steps in his hurry. Alex’s voice came through heaving, begging . By the time he reached the door, it had been cut off as it choked out the last bit of air. 

He tore open the door. But all that remained was the grandfather clock ticking the seconds away. Eerie silence filled him with dread as he took in the scene.

Only the moon illuminated the scene. Blood looked pitch black in the dark. This was a dream. He’d wake up soon. It’ll be over. He’d be in his bed…

Rachel and Alex lay on the ground. In an excruciatingly slow movement, William pulled a kitchen knife out of the dead flesh of Alex. He rose to his feet and tilted his head, backlit by the moonlight. Dipper could throw up, but he was frozen. A manic grin formed on his boyfriend’s face as he turned to face him. His eyes were hidden in shadow.

“Did you miss me, Pine Tree?” The cadence was off—no, it was finally back to what it had been in broken memories.

It all clicked.

“Bill,” he gasped out.

Chapter Text

Bill clasped his hands together, the sound echoing, as some twisted, empty applause. “Took you long enough. Too long, really.”

“You… All this time. You made me forget. Oh my God, Mabel.”

His countless nightmares about hospital rooms, they were all fabricated. All of it was a lie.

For months, he’d been sharing his bed with the monster who’d murdered her. A demon . One that had erased all his knowledge of the paranormal. And yet, the complete re-shattering of his worldview— gods existed, different dimensions—paled in comparison to the simple hurt of betrayal.

“That’s all in the past. Rachel did pick a nice location—quaint, quiet, isolated . I didn’t want to kill them, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity, not when you were getting so close to the truth. I always intended for you to figure it out eventually, because, well, I want to make a deal with you.”

“ No! Why—why did you… For so long?”

Bill shrugged as he wiped the knife clean with the hem of his shirt. “I was waiting for an opportunity.”

“For what?!” Dipper yelled, and he wanted to scream until his breath ran out, but couldn’t find the energy.

Bill ignored him, talking mostly to himself. “I was patient. Your Mindscape has been useful for finding old Sixer’s research notes, and sometimes, something just feels right…? I know that amphibian god had something to say about this all, and if he’s unhappy that’s gotta be a good thing.” He paused and grinned down at him. Oh, how much Dipper would give to kick those teeth in.

But in shock, he could only stare at him and his mockery of everything they’d been through.

“I’ve been working on breaking Gravity Falls’ barrier from the outside,” he continued, “but, damn, sustaining your memory loss takes a lot of my mana.”

“No… You can’t, not now, after…” The still-blurry memories of the apocalypse almost send him into another panic.  

“But I can . Thanks to you,” Bill replied without missing a beat, sounding all too happy.

Dipper cautiously took a step back and scanned his surroundings. “So, what now? Kill me?” 

“Oh, only if I have to.”

Could he escape? The car keys lay in the empty fruit bowl on the kitchen table. The metal caught the pale moonlight, and Bill noticed them too. Before Dipper could make a run for them, Bill grabbed them, dangling them from his fingers.

“It’d be quite rude to leave now, Pine Tree.”

Desperation didn’t lead to calculated moves. “Fuck you,” he hissed.

Without a plan, Dipper took the bowl and threw it at him. It shattered, but before he could see how blood—fucking hopefully —ran down Bill’s face, he backed off and ran out of the house. For a moment, Bill didn’t chase after him, instead picking a ceramic shard off his skin. 

Out the door, Dipper was dripping sweat, despite the cool summer night. In the darkness, the white paint of the Renault seemed luminescent, but it wasn’t any hope without the keys. Still, he rattled the driver seat’s door, praying for a miracle. Weirder things had happened in Gravity Falls, now that he knew. 

His phone was not getting service either. Maybe further up the road there’d be a signal. He could try. He had to. The image of running down the unlit road, getting lost, flashed through his mind. It made him freeze for a second too long.

Bill approached quietly, still holding both the keys and knife. A bloody cut stretched across his face. Next to the shed, a drain cover lined the stone tiles of the path. He walked towards it—Dipper’s heart sank—and unceremoniously dropped the keys through the metal grate. They plummeted into the running water deep below with a distant splash. He’d run out of options, and Bill knew that perfectly well.

“So, are you going to listen?” Bill asked, as if Dipper was an unreasonable child. 

He stayed quiet.

“Come back inside.” And if only Dipper had a choice. He followed; rather that than being dragged back.

Bill closed the front door behind him with a shrill laugh, caging them both in. His eyes shone yellow, like feline predators, so inhuman. But animalistic wouldn’t be the right description either. Bill, demon that he was, had always been distinctly malicious in a way that other creatures aren’t. 

“What the fuck do you want from me, Cipher?” Dipper managed to yell out.

“Your mind, kid. I told you, you have Sixer’s knowledge stored in there. I just can’t afford to expend more magic on you—your blissful memory loss. If it flatters you, you’re the most likely to complicate my plans, too. Gotta keep an eye on ya.”

“No… No! I’d never—”

Before Dipper could stutter through the rest of his thoughts, Bill dropped the knife and grabbed his wrists and pushed him against the wall, rough enough to hear his bones crack. He screamed out, something that Bill didn’t even react to. 

“Save your breath, Pine Tree. I’m not asking .”

With an abstract sense of determination, Dipper thrashed around, and his foot caught Bill’s shin. The slight pause it gave him was a bitter consolation for what was coming.

“Then kill me,” he yelled. It spelled out his death sentence. He hoped it did.

Bill only grinned wider, then dropped it into a faux-concerned smile. When he spoke, it was a few octaves lower.

“But Dipper, I could never kill you. You panic too much, darling.” It was William’s voice. Why did it send such a flutter through his stomach?

All he could do was grit his teeth and fight against it. “The act was already up. Stop it.”

“You want it, though. Tell me, how much less sorrow did Mabel’s death cause you these past months?”

“Don’t you fucking dare—”

If William, or rather, Bill, made his life any fucking better, he would still never choose him. It sickened him—he hadn’t had that choice.

Bill tilted his head. The movement went too far to look natural. “You want me to shut up? That’s fine, too. I’ll have you either way.”

With that, he released the grasp he had on Dipper. There was no time to react—no time at all—before Bill backhanded him. His topaz ring tore his cheek open.

A spark of electricity traveled through his nerves. The shock could’ve been either magical or emotional, but it was all the same when Dipper collapsed onto the ground with blurry, wet eyes. Only then, uselessly, did he understand the shape the gemstone was cut in—a perfect triangle, now stained with Dipper’s blood. Subtlety hadn’t ever been a quality of Bill.

Dipper's foot twisted as he got up and tried to hit him again. Bill dodged and Dipper hit his head, falling against a chair, one that he’d sat on earlier, chatting and laughing with—with…

The image of Bill began to blur. From the corner of his eyes, he saw them , dark shapes twisted strangely on the floor.

"I have all the time in the world, darling," Bill said, approaching him once more, "It'd be safer for you to end it now. Make a deal. We can go back to pretending."

Dipper couldn’t fight back when Bill grabbed his chin and brought him close enough to feel his body heat. He flinched, but Bill only waited, looking down into his eyes.  

“I won’t let you hurt more people.”

“You can’t stop me.”

Bill slid his hand down, grabbing his throat with a force that sent him reeling. Dipper couldn’t breathe, and all that Bill did was squeeze harder, silencing his choked gasps for air. He was a dead man walking, except Bill wasn't gunning for his death at all. 

It was about his mind. Some fucked idea of using him to destroy the world. Something about Dipper made Bill want him—the fact that the Zodiac included him? The haze made it impossible to think.

Bill made the mistake of letting go too soon, and Dipper sprinted into the bathroom with a level of stamina that shouldn’t have been possible if not for the adrenaline. Behind him, Bill's soles already clattered on the wooden floor as he chased him. His heart raced as he locked the door, fidgeting with shaky hands. It was an old, rusty lock, and couldn't withstand much, he feared. 

"Aw, you're hiding. That's cute. You’re not making this easier for yourself, though."

"Go to hell," Dipper spat back.

"I just got back."

Dipper let out a sob, finally at his breaking point. He threw up. The dusty mirror was the only witness to his breakdown as he cried over the toilet bowl, strings of saliva hanging from his lips. The stench of the earlier alcohol hit him like illness.

He desperately scanned his mind for any way to stop it, but the truth was simple—he could not stop Bill Cipher, not again. In a universe of magic and endless possibilities, here he was helpless.

Bill would get tired of waiting. He’d open the door and hurt him more.

With nothing else to do, Dipper prayed to whoever might have listened. Bill said something from behind the door, maybe it was even laced with a tinge of concern about him—God, Dipper hoped his state was bad enough to die from—but his ears were ringing and any sound was muted.

Was he passing out? He felt dizzy. An adrenaline crash? The alcohol? Had Bill done something? His head hit the toilet cover as he sagged down.

A breeze carried the familiar smell of forests. The bathroom tiles had made way to dirt, and Dipper opened his eyes.

He was sitting on forest ground, paralyzed, with his head bowed down. He could see the bases and roots of conifers in front of him.

Oh. It hit him. Was this his afterlife? That didn’t seem too—

“Dipper.” It sounded tired, with some amusement hidden in it. He heard footsteps approaching. Whoever it was came to stand in front of him, but Dipper still couldn’t look up. The man wore black pants and dress shoes, strangely out of place in the forest.

“What is this?” he asked, in a “please-fucking-let-me-rest” tone of voice, “Did I die? Are you a god or something?”

The man laughed. “I am. But you’re not dead, yet.”

It could’ve been a trick. It definitely was, knowing Bill, famously a dream demon. But then what could Dipper do about it? 

“Please, I, I need help,” Dipper stammered. Let him give into the hope.

“I can see that.” There was a stifled laugh in it. “Here, let me.” Dipper felt a hand on his shoulder as the stranger crouched down, enough for him to see the dark blue, flowing shirt he wore, ruffles decorating the collar, and puffy sleeves billowing around lean arms. 

His aching eased almost instantly. When the man pulled back, Dipper noticed a blue sigil on his palm, glowing ever so slightly. The symbols were familiar, something from his research, he was sure of it.

“Thank you! Uh…” What was he supposed to say to a supposed god that he was trusting-but-not-quite? “What… What’s happening? How do I stop him?”

The “god” spoke carefully. “Axolotl would’ve let him kill you. Let me be clear—I am not doing this to save you. That would be antithetical to all I am doing. Need to keep the Nightmare realm somewhat happy with me…” he was talking more to himself, Dipper realized with growing disdain. “No, this is to disrupt Axolotl’s control.”

What the hell. Dipper tried to move, but was frozen in place. “Axolotl? The time being? That name, it was in the journal… You said the Nightmare realm? As in, Bill’s fucked-up home? You…”

“Don’t worry about it. Listen, I cannot help you kill him, as much as I’d like to. I can only tell you your options, do you understand?” 

“Because of what? If you’re a god…” Dipper clenched his jaw. How he despised not being able to move, or even see the face of the being in front of him. He hadn’t even been given a name. Every single time, it was just him accepting more and more bullshit he had to go through, ever since… He remembered his parents arguing, then the almost end of the world. Mabel, Bill then, this, whatever he was… Nothing was ever just easy.

“These are things that you can’t possibly understand. Way above the level of a single mortal,” the god said with an infuriating amount of condescension for the tiny human in front of him. Like an ant.  

“I know plenty. Ford, he…”

It went painfully ignored. “You need to accept Bill’s deal. Once you’re out of this, you’ll be free to prepare for his death.” It was said so casually, as if Dipper wasn’t being asked to give up his only choice once again. 

“No, you can’t expect me to do that! I don’t want to be anywhere near him. I’d rather die,” he yelled, and if tears welled up in his eyes, he didn’t care.

“I understand, but...” The god almost lowered himself, allowing Dipper to see the chain of a necklace tucked into his shirt resting on his collarbones, but then hesitated, like Dipper wasn’t worthy to even see his damn face. 

“Do you? My friends are dead. He murdered Mabel. Everything, Weirdmageddon… You’re treating it like nothing mattered. Like I don’t matter.”

“Because you…” Dipper braced himself to hear the harsh truth, but the god swallowed his next words. And then, he sighed. “Dipper, you do matter. You defeated Bill Cipher once before, which is a miracle. You were tricked, but chased the truth until you found it. It matters that if you survive tonight, you are free from these terrors. You have a life to get back to. Parents that care for you, students, your friends in Gravity Falls, they will be there.”

Why did it sound… sad? From where Dipper knelt, he could see a white outline of a building beyond the trees. The tone that the god used and the unfamiliarity of the place combined into a sinking feeling of dread, despite the actual, somewhat nice words.

“Who are you?” he dared to ask. 

“Your worst ally.” There was a resigned smile behind it, and Dipper knew it wasn’t a lie.

The god continued, “In Gravity Falls, Ford worked on a machine that can disable all magic within the forest. Once you activate it, let Bill figure out how to break the barrier—he will find the solution. Once he’s inside, without magic, kill him.”

“But he’s a demon. I—” How could he possibly do that? 

The god shrugged. “He’ll essentially be mortal. I’m sure you’ll manage. It’s him or you. If you play along, he’ll fall into the trap.”

“You’re telling me to manipulate him? Like that’s easy!”

“Oh, you’re capable of a lot once you have to survive, Pine— Dipper.” A pause, as if he himself was caught off-guard. “I’m sending you back into the bloodbath. Stay strong.”

Dipper wanted to protest, to explain the slip-up—he knew what fucking nickname was—but it was no use. 

Dipper squinted his eyes against the bright bathroom light. The first thing he saw as he sat up was Bill, holding his wrist.

“There you are,” he said, smiling unkindly.

The smells of vomit, blood and alcohol came crashing back, and his body hurt again, with sudden stabs of pain as he’d just grown used to the lack of injuries. Either the god didn’t want to or couldn’t interfere outside wherever the fuck he’d been. Great.

“How’d you get in?”

Bill tilted his head. The answer—that he was a demon in a strong, physical body—was too obvious. Dipper let out a groan as he tried to move. 

“You’re too fragile,” Bill mused. 

He moved to touch a bruise, and Dipper flinched away. 

“Stop,” he said, hoarsely, “Stop, please.”

At that, Bill paused, shifting his posture. Dipper knew what he was saying. And Bill knew that Dipper wasn’t just mindlessly begging.

“You agree to the deal.” It was a statement, not a question. Bill sounded all too satisfied. 

Dipper managed a nod. It was letting go of his pride. Trusting the most vague, suspicious being that has no business randomly plucking him from his world to offer some kindred advice. Like what the hell? The chance that it is just Bill messing with him is about 75 per cent. But, the theory made sense, even if he couldn’t trust the information.

He kind of needed to be alive to stop Bill.

“Yeah, asshole, it’s a deal.”

Bill chuckled, like this was some cute display rather than Dipper having a crisis. He kisses his forehead as some fucked up reward. 

“See? It all works out. You won’t have to worry your pretty little head.” He didn’t offer a hand in the traditional sense. He only cradled Dipper’s in his, squeezing lightly until—despite how big the part of Dipper that would rather rot here and perish—blue flames lit up the bathroom. 

Bill brought him back to the kitchen after that. He spared the bodies one more look.

“They were annoying you, though, weren’t they?” he said, flatly, “You could find better company.”

Dipper stayed frozen, cheeks wet. Not staring at anything at all. The hospital room had been nicer, and it hadn’t even been real. Parts of him weren’t real. Memories influenced personality. Experiences made a person. What was left of him? Was Bill the common thread connecting his life together like pieces of different jigsaw puzzles that didn’t quite fit? Was that the one bit of identity he had now?

“Can we go home?” he asked. He sounded so tiny , and Bill only smiled at him. 

“Of course baby,” Bill cooed, “You have a thesis to write. I’d be a terrible boyfriend if I kept you from that.”

Somehow, Dipper laughed. Dry and ugly. Because how was this his reality? He’d been stressing about his thesis just a few weeks ago, sitting in a too-hot classroom. Now the universe might experience premature heat death in his lifetime.  

They’d been following Interstate 5 south for a gruelingly long hour, driving past evergreen forests that brightened up the otherwise gloomy late-fall day. The dulling landscape would’ve been perfect as a background to the short road trip, complete with the occasional stupid tourist attraction advertised. Cramped together in Dipper’s beat-up Honda that groaned like a dying man every time you shifted gears. 

“It’s like coming home, isn’t it, darling?”

Dipper tensed. It could’ve been a bearable drive. His palms were sweaty where he clutched the backpack on his lap. He tried to read a road sign up ahead, anything to not turn to face him.

“Sure,” he replied stiffly. 

Bill put his hand on Dipper’s thigh, squeezing him in a way that came across as a threat. “Great memories,” he said, his grin obvious from his tone, “‘cept maybe the whole ‘getting erased from your existence’ bit.” 

“You’ll be back where you left off soon enough.” His own voice sounded strange, like he was on autopilot performing his lines. “We need to take the next exit—get on 20.”

This September, Dipper’s classes had started again, a normal life he’d been safely brought back to, all things considered. Not that it eased the survivor's guilt. 

Focusing on college, he’d managed to keep a distance from Bill, insofar that was possible when dating him. How fortunate that Bill spent most of time researching and testing ways to get inside Gravity Falls, only coming to see his boyfriend when he needed something. 

So, Dipper kept up the fucking performance of his lifetime. As if he’d be happy to have Bill by his side like a twisted comfort. As if Dipper was so lonely that even fake-dating the devil was a benefit. 

And now they’d reached the finale. Bill could get through the barrier. Reach the Mystery Shack, and all the residue power from the apocalypse. If it wasn’t so fucked, Dipper would’ve been fascinated with how it was possible. Something about Bill suppressing his mana in his physical body so that the anomalies of his form were diluted enough to not clash with the barrier. 

“You’re tense,” Bill remarked, “Did you not take your Xanax?”

Dipper had, actually. But he doubted anything could make him relax under these conditions. 

Bill turned on the blinker and changed lanes. They were nearing the exit. It wouldn’t be far now. 

Bill didn’t know Dipper had been here three weeks ago, too. This exact road, driving the same car. Coming back to the Shack had been strange. Wendy wasn’t in town anymore, and Soos had hired new staff to take care of the place day-to-day. How had Bill so thoroughly wiped his memory that Dipper had never gone to Stan’s funeral? Soos had had to tell him it’d been heart failure. 

He quickly wiped away the tears before Bill could notice. 

Ford had gone off the grid around that time. Dipper had tried to contact him, but to no avail. No surprise there, really. So, he’d been on his own to uncover the machine and activate it using instructions from a fourth journal Ford had started and left there. He liked to think it’d been left for him. 

“...Must’ve forgotten,” he mumbled, replying to Bill, way too delayed to make sense.

The car protested as they made it past the exit, onto a bumpy road through the thick forest. Over the treetops, Dipper could make out the iconic, UFO-shaped valley, still with the same broken bridge. The town was still several miles away, but the barrier was close . When he’d been here, he’d made sure to figure out the exact point of this road where they’d enter the barrier.

They continued for a while in silence. Past the cliff, a long bend to the left, speed limit road sign, a fence protecting the road against avalanches…

Dipper knew, logically, that there was no way to feel the barrier as a regular human. Still, there was a shift in the atmosphere in their shitty car without functioning airco. Bill’s shoulders’ tensed. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. 

“Baby?” Bill said, tentatively, trying to act sweet. In control.  

Dipper acted like he’d been daydreaming, absentmindedly following the landscape. “Hm? Did you say something?”

“Wanna make a pit stop? We can pull over here.” The road here passed through some sparser forest, with enough flat ground next to the asphalt to park the car. 

This was it, then.

Play compliant. 

“Go ahead.” He gave Bill a tight smile. 

The car swerved off-road and jerked to a stop. Bill didn’t bother with the handbrake, didn’t turn off the engine, before he moved.

He threw open the car door. “Wait here,” he said.

Dipper immediately unbuckled his seat belt, all the while keeping his eyes on Bill, who was scanning the area for whatever was wrong about it. The signals from Ford’s machine flowed in waves through the forest, gradually dispersing at the outer edges of the town’s heightened paranormal properties. Bill couldn’t perceive them, but the wrongness of the lack of magic in a place where there should be—that was tangible to someone like him.

With shaky hands, Dipper opened his bag, and unsteady fingers brushed over the cold metal inside. A handgun Stan had kept underneath the cash register of the Mystery Shack. He clicked off the safety, cringing at how loud it sounded to his own ears, but Bill’s attention was elsewhere. 

Deep fucking breath. So far, the god, or whatever it was, had been right. He’d managed to keep himself safe, to do everything right in preparation of this moment. All that was left was—literally—pulling the trigger. And pray to the guy that it would work. That they were far enough into the radius that Bill couldn’t get mana from outside of it. That Bill couldn’t heal or revive himself. That—

He dropped his bag when Bill knocked on his window, his ring hitting the glass. 

“Pine Tree, come here.” Dipper had never wished more that he could read his tone. Fuck, Bill’s growing agitation had better nothing to do with uncovering Dipper’s plan.

“One sec.” He reached for his bag, but Bill had already opened the passenger door, and all but dragged him out, separating him from his only protection. 

“Something’s wrong,” Bill said, matter-of-factly. He stared him down, vying for a reaction.

At that moment, the possibilities of Bill having found out were all too real. He could’ve read his mind, or he’d already seen the weapon. Maybe using Ford’s machine was like pointing a flashing sign at himself as the culprit.

“How so?” Could he sound any less shaky? 

Bill didn’t answer. “Let me inside your mind for a bit. Fordsie might’ve known something…”

No fucking way Bill wanted information now. This was him trying to see if Dipper had planned something. He needed to get his bag. Everything would be okay if he could just get back to the car. This would be over. He’d sleep in his dorm. He’d hug his parents.

He refused to think about any other way he could fail. 

The sweat on his back couldn’t be explained by the early autumn warmth. 

“Yeah, okay, uh…” Think . Use that 4.0 GPA brain . “Let me sit down for that. You know how light-headed I get from it.” Before Bill could argue, he stepped back towards the car. “Are you okay?” he added, just to divert attention.

“My magic got… weaker,” Bill said.

Dipper sat down on the car seat, feet planted on the off-road. His fingers brushed against the zipper of his bag. 

He had to keep talking.

“That sounds bad. Can you still enter my mind though?” 

Bill curled his fingers around nothing, testing his humanoid form for something maybe? “Guess we’ll find out—”

“No we won’t.” Dipper’s voice cut through the air, uncertain and terrified , but clear. Both hands were clamped around the gun, arms stretched in front of him, the barrel staring down the demon with absolute certainty.

A beat passed.

Bill’s expression lagged behind the situation, but slowly, the pretense of it all faded from it. He took a breath.

“So that’s how it is,” he spat through gritted teeth, “Do you know what you’re doing, Pine Tree?”

“Your current body is mortal without magic. One of the gods told me. You have enemies, Bill. One of them had to bite eventually.” Dipper stood up from the car, adjusting his hands. The fact that Bill hadn’t lunged at him was good, probably. 

“You think that you can finish this? Shoot the demon who’s haunted your life point-blank. Is that really how you see this going down?”

“It is, Cipher.”

Bill tilted his head in that annoying “I know better than you” way. “It won’t bring your friends back. It won’t bring Mabel back.”

“No, it won’t,” Dipper agreed icily, “But it’ll bring my life back. You’re done ruining me.”

Bill’s jaw tensed. “I see. You always were stubborn, Pine Tree.”

Dipper held up the gun with a chilling glare. For the first time, Bill hesitated, having to reconcile with the fact that he might’ve lost. His calm veneer was cracking after so long. Dipper couldn’t help but feel a creeping satisfaction. 

He twisted the knife. “You failed a second time. I’m making sure you don’t try a third time.”

Bill took a step closer, smile unhinged. Dipper squared his shoulders, bracing himself, finger cramping from how he held the trigger. 

“Don’t…” Dipper whispered.

“Third time’s the charm, though,” Bill joked, laughing at himself in that ridiculous, absurd way because nothing about him made sense and that’s what made him terrifying. 

In a blink, Bill was on him, pinning his wrists to the unfeeling metal roof of the car. Dipper didn’t drop the gun but Bill didn’t seem to care.

“Gods, Axolotl ,” Bill started, “That fucking asshole. I think I get it now. Think about it, Pine Tree. This shouldn’t happen . An immortal demon shouldn’t die from a gunshot from a mentally-ill college student.”

Where was this going?

“Y’know, I could’ve gotten to Gravity Falls through other means. But I chose you. Not just because Axolotl said so, but… ha!” Bill bumped their foreheads together. “It’s you , Pine Tree. A god spoke to you, how rare do you think that is? I don’t know who it was, but they don’t just help out any mortal. And here you are, killing me. I knew I picked you for a reason. Don’t fucking know what that reason is, but there’s one.”

Dipper wrestled himself free, shoving Bill back, but he only kept on going, even as Dipper raised the gun again. 

“I killed your sister and friends. So many people died because of me. I have a legacy, darling, and once I’m dead, you’ll live knowing that you’re irrevocably tied to me. Who fucking knows why? Good luck chewing on that. Maybe, if the universe is cruel enough, I’ll return again. Through you . Always through you. So you can sleep with one eye—”

The recoil of the gun hit Dipper harder than the sound. He wasn’t some third amendment freak, had never really even held one beyond practicing for today. So, naively, he’d pictured this moment for weeks, including the sound. Always the sound. Of course, the image too, of Bill’s shocked expression, the way his body gave out, but never the recoil. It’s one of those things you underestimate. 

Dipper’s back hit the car as Bill fell. 

“You pretended to be mine,” he hissed, “Don’t you fucking dare make it anything more, you—you monster… Shit .”

But Bill didn’t respond. Didn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing him beg for mercy.

It felt empty. Like Bill left something hollow in him that sat wrong in his gut. Like he’d been right .

There was a thing such as surviving Bill. Dipper wasn’t sure there also existed winning against him.

Last laugh, right? 

The car’s engine hummed in the quiet. He should get out of here, pray that this wouldn’t get him accused of murder. 

It’s funny. The thought that went through his head. “William would know what to do. He’d take care of it.”

The sweet boyfriend who’d, apparently subconsciously, always had had serial killer vibes. 

Maybe they’d throw him in a psych ward. That would feel more normal than going back. 

He climbed in the car, driver’s side. Bill’s body lay in the rearview mirror, still human, still committed to the bit. The Little Trees air freshener swung as he drove off, mockingly.