Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In a world where everyone has a soulmate, meeting your destiny is easy.

After all, on the eighteenth birthday, the initials of each person's soulmate necessarily appear on the right hand.

This feature, of course, narrows down the search, but finding the right person among thousands of others is a difficult task.

Some people spend their whole lives on it.

Bill Cipher, over the course of hundreds - no, thousands - no, to be precise, millions of years of existence, had countless soulmates.

So many that he couldn’t even begin to count them. And they all had only one thing in common - Cipher didn’t give a damn about any of them.

A soulmate was a lack of choice. Just another problem that occasionally landed on his head. So only a few initials remained tucked away in the corners of his memory:

G.G; H.M; D.U; A.S; K.A.

A handful of those "special" girls he had decided to meet in person.

Did he feel anything? No.

Was it surprising? Also no.

For Bill, concepts like love and soulmates meant nothing. He had never understood why people placed such importance on these connections.

So it probably wasn’t surprising that he personally slit his first soulmate’s throat - one of his fondest memories - laughing maniacally as he did it.

While other demons whispered about his madness, his soullessness, his heartlessness.

And damn it, they were right.

Madness was his second name. Bill had no soul-never had, as far as he could tell. And a heart? Just an organ that pumps blood through the veins.

In his preferred triangular form, there was no heart at all.

And Cipher got along just fine without one.

***

Mabel Pines was just a simple human girl, for whom the soulmate bond was something truly special.

Since childhood, she had looked at the light, barely visible initials on her parents’ hands with quiet admiration.

A.B. and T.P.

Amelia Bell [now Pines]and Theodore Pines.

Their relationship was perfect - almost like the romantic movies their daughter loved so much. Their home was always filled with warmth, carefully nurtured by a loving mother. And the memories of fun and exciting trips, planned by her father, never failed to bring comfort. It was no surprise that the dream of having the same kind of love settled in little Mabel’s heart from an early age.

At thirteen, she had looked at her aging history teacher with quiet pity, at the darkened initials on her hand—proof that Miss Lovegood had never met her destined one [and, if Mabel was being honest, probably never would].

The thought that she might share the same fate lingered like a dark shadow behind her bright, hopeful dreams.

On the day of her eighteenth birthday, she ran around the Shack, making sure everything was ready for the party-pausing every now and then, heart pounding, to glance anxiously at her right hand.

— Calm down, Mabel, — Dipper said tiredly, flipping a page in his book. These endless preparations had drained him so much that he had decided to hide from everyone in the attic. — The mark won’t appear early.

— How are you so calm?!

Her eyes darted to the old clock on the wall.

13:45

Twenty-five minutes left.

— This is our fate being decided, Dipper!

— You’re overreacting. I don’t even believe in this… what do you call it? “Fate.”

— That’s just because you don’t know what initials will appear on your hand yet, — Mabel couldn’t help but smile.

Last summer, she had noticed the initials M.P. on Wendy Corduroy’s hand. And, logically assuming that it obviously wasn’t her, Pines had squealed in delight and sworn to her friend that she would take this secret to the grave - or at the very least, keep it until her and Dipper’s eighteenth birthday.

Mason rolled his eyes and turned back to his book.

— Five, — Mabel whispered, eyes locked onto the clock as she began counting down. — Four.

Her brother looked at her like she was insane and shook his head.

— Three, — she shut her eyes, feeling her heart hammering wildly in her chest. — Two… One…

Mabel slowly opened her eyes.

B.C.

Unpleasant associations flashed through her mind.

***

Bill had never been particularly fond of Dimension B-76. It was an exact copy of Earth, only with supernatural creatures instead of bags of bones. [At least something good.]

However, for some unknown reason, Cryptos and Pyronica absolutely loved the place. And, as luck would have it, they always chose to meet here. Always in some cheap, filthy bar. [Sometimes he seriously thought they were just messing with him - or dragging out some weird, incomprehensible joke.]

— Too bad you weren’t with us. We caused absolute chaos in Dimension 47-G, — the demon grinned, his unnaturally bright emerald eyes gleaming.

— I never doubted your abilities, Cryptos. — Cipher reached for the glass of whiskey sitting on the table beside him.

— Do you know anyone with the initials M.P.? — Pyronica asked, barely hiding her curiosity.

Bill turned to her, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

— You got a mark, — she explained, grabbing Cipher’s wrist. — It wasn’t there an hour ago… — She narrowed her stunning violet eyes and smirked slyly. — So I think…

She didn’t get to finish—Bill yanked his hand away roughly, rolling his sleeves back down over his yellow shirt.

— It’s all nonsense.

— You’re not going to look for her?

At his friend’s incredulous question, Cipher simply shook his head.

— That’s reckless, my friend.

Exactly what he expected. [The same thing every time.] Pyronica always lectured him about the importance of soulmate bonds - especially for demons. After all, the stronger your soulmate, the stronger you became.

She just hadn’t considered that it could work the other way around.

— I agree you should at least find out who she is, — Cryptos, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up. — Just in case she turns out to be your Achilles’ heel.

Cipher hesitated. Maybe they had a point.

M.P.

Thousands of names flashed through his mind, and yet… none of them seemed to fit.

***

— Miss, may I treat you to a coffee?

Mabel looked up from her phone, shifting her gaze to the guy standing by her table.

Tall, dark-haired, brown-eyed—fairly attractive, but…

— Show me your hand first.

The guy, apparently, reflexively holds out his left hand to her. Pines looks at him with incomprehension and then laughs.

— The right one.

— I'm sorry, — he smiles back, embarrassed, —is it really that important?— and holds out his other hand.

It's autumn, but it's still warm outside, so it makes sense that her interlocutor is wearing a T-shirt, and the dark initials on his arm are clearly visible.

A.A.

— Sorry… — she sighed apologetically. — My name is Mabel Pines, — she shrugged and turned back to her phone, ready to continue typing her message to her brother. Everything about her posture made it clear—she wasn’t interested in this conversation.

— And mine is Jeremy Cassel, — he replied with a friendly smile.

— It’s important to me, — Pines nodded toward the initials on her wrist.

It had only been a month since her birthday, and she hadn’t found her soulmate yet, but that was fine there was still time! Mabel was staying optimistic.

— And to me, it’s just a small thing, — he said nonchalantly, boldly taking the seat across from her. — Besides, what’s stopping us from at least being friends?

The girl hesitated, then shrugged again. Fair point. It wasn’t like they had to date.

— So, what kind of coffee do you prefer?

— You’re persistent.

— Just determined.

***

Bill hadn’t thought about his mark in three years.

Well, to be fair, at first, he had searched for his soulmate with some enthusiasm. But after meeting a couple of what Pyronica called "promising candidates," he shoved the idea far, far away. [Good thing none of those girls turned out to be his soulmate. He would’ve shot himself. Honest to God.]

Cipher wouldn’t have thought about that damn mark at all.

With his long sleeves and jackets, it remained hidden. Sometimes, he even forgot it existed.

But everything changed when he was summoned to Gravity Falls. Again. [Seriously, are there no other places? This is getting ridiculous.]

And, of course, the one who called him was none other than Gideon Gleeful. [What a surprise.]

— Why’d you summon me? — Bill leaned on his cane [which he absolutely didn’t need] and grinned like the Cheshire Cat. — Don’t tell me you want a birthday present from me?

— H-how did you… — Gideon fell silent. He knew. Of course, he knew. Bill probably knew everything.

— Let’s put it that way, — the boy muttered, pulling his jacket tighter around himself, shifting nervously. — I…

— A mark. Yeah, yeah, I know, — the demon cut him off. — You wanna find them?

— I want to get rid of it!

Looks like he was getting desperate. From the memories Bill had already skimmed through, it was clear that no amount of makeshift solutions had worked. The cuts still hadn’t healed, they burned, and some would probably scar.

The demon barely held back a laugh.

Getting rid of soulmate marks was impossible. Nothing could erase them.

He’d tried once, back in his foolish days. All he got for it was wasted time and a few liters of human blood.

— Can’t be done, kid.

— Then… — Gideon ran his fingers through his hair and yanked at it in frustration. [A pathetic sight, really.] — Change them! Yeah, that’s it!

The demon raised an eyebrow in surprise. Gleeful looked like either an idiot or a lunatic.

— And change them to what, exactly? — he asked mockingly.

— Mabel Pines. M.P.

Click.

Bill’s eyes flickered, almost involuntarily, to his right hand.

My thoughts are confused, changing too quickly, ringing in my ears. Fate is a bitch, of course, but not that much?

He quickly ends the conversation with Gideon, saying something like: "Offer me something good or don't waste my time." And he returns to his dimension in a confused state.

His soulmates have been demons, vampires, even a witch, but this time it can't be Stanford's niece, can it? She's the enemy, the girl from the prophecy, and just a mortal.

It seems like something unreal and Bill is almost laughing. And maybe even a little bit sorry for her. To be his soul mate means to die or to live the rest of your life alone. There is no other way.

What should we do now?

Well, first it would be nice to make sure that it's really her, or else, maybe it's a coincidence, [he really hoped so] and then it will be seen.

***

Coming to Gravity Falls every break, vacation, and holiday had become a tradition - so had helping Uncle Stan at the shop.

Right before Christmas, the Shack was unusually crowded. Tourists were stocking up on holiday trinkets and similar junk, completely ignoring the outrageous prices. [Their mistake.]

Mabel happily took over as both cashier and sales assistant while Dipper and Jeremy… well, she had no idea where they were or what they were doing.

And honestly? She didn’t want to know.

It just wasn’t working out between them.

A lot of people said it was because they weren’t soulmates. Jeremy insisted it was just a rough patch, something they needed to push through.

Pines kind of wanted to believe him.

So she kept covering the dark mark on her wrist with a chunky bracelet.

***

Bill knew that coming to the Shack wasn’t his best idea. Hiding among tourists, stealing glances at Shooting Star - probably even worse.

He quickly averted his eyes from the girl - no, the young woman - and made his way to the snow globe display. From there, he could see almost the entire room.

Picking up one of the globes, the demon nearly dropped it.

Clumsiness wasn’t like him, but maybe fate was still mocking him. Or was it karma? A side effect of the bond?

Or something else entirely?

— Nice choice.

Cipher flinched slightly.

She had approached unnoticed - too unnoticed.

Or maybe it was just too loud in here.

Or maybe he should have been paying more attention.

Mabel, truthfully, didn’t know why she had decided to approach this particular customer. Something had just clicked in her head, and before she knew it, her feet had carried her to him.

And she had always trusted her instincts.

Though, judging by his expression, the guy didn’t seem to need any help.

— I have the same one at home, — Pines said with a sweet smile.

[If only she knew who she was talking to…]

— Really? How cute, — he replied, the sarcasm slipping out unintentionally. He hadn’t meant to sound like that or at the very least, he hadn’t planned to.

Seriously. It just happened.

Much like this conversation, apparently.

The girl blushed slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. [A stupid habit.]

— I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, — she stepped a little closer. — Are you a tourist or a local?

Her curious gaze flickered over his face, quickly taking in every feature.

[A simple, even banal question—but somehow, not simple at all.]

— A tourist. But I visit often… And you?

— I’m the shop owner’s niece. I’m here pretty often and know a few interesting spots around town, — Mabel bit her lip, rocking slightly on her heels. — I could show you around too, — she added, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

The heart of a soulless demon skipped a beat.

But that was just an illusion. A trick of the mind. Just for a fraction of a second. [Probably.]

— Sounds tempting, — a convincingly charming smile flickered across his face.

Mabel’s own smile widened, and her green eyes sparkled with excitement.

Bill really needed to end this conversation. He had only come to confirm whether or not they were soulmates and then leave disappear for good, never to return.

— I’ll take this.

— Then let’s head to the register.

Cipher nodded and followed the girl.

— Here’s your receipt, — the demon reached for the slip of paper, accidentally brushing against Mabel’s hand.

He might’ve thought he had been electrocuted

But just then, another customer walked into the shop, bringing a gust of wind with them.

Shooting Star must have thought the same.

— Have a nice day, — she winked at her "new acquaintance" before hurrying back to work.

The moment Bill stepped out of the Shack, he checked his mark.

The world had gone insane.

But he didn’t care.

Honestly.

He had a white soulmate mark, a snow globe in his hand

And Mabel Pines’ phone number on the back of his receipt.

Chapter Text

— Checkmate, Kryptos, — Bill rubs his hands together in victory.

His opponent just smiles. He didn't expect to win, Cipher’s too good a player.

Suddenly, the demons heard muffled footsteps. The heavy, wooden door opens, letting in a little sunlight into the dark room, lit only by torches.

A pink-haired demoness appears in the room, holding a snow globe.

— Why do I have to look all over the mansion for you?

— What are you doing here? —Kryptos looked at her in surprise and then turned his gaze to Cipher, waiting for an explanation, even from him 

He merely shrugged indifferently. He hadn’t invited her but Pyronica didn’t need an invitation. She was used to taking advantage of Bill’s so-called kindness and whatever sliver of concern he might have had for her.

— Came to check in on my best friend, — the demoness drawled sweetly, snapping her fingers. The door slammed shut with a loud bang. — What are you two up to? — she asked, stepping closer.

— As you can see, — Cryptos gestured toward the chessboard and pieces.

— Can I congratulate you on another victory? — she twirled the black queen between her fingers, directing the question at Bill.

— Thank you, darling, — a smug grin stretched across his face.

— Alright, spill it. Why are you here? — Cryptos felt she was up to something.

— To play chess, — Pyronica leaned back against the chair. — You don’t mind, do you?

— Not now. We were just finishing up and about to leave. Business, sweetheart, business, — Cipher replied, pouring her a drink. — Maybe next time?

Of course, Bill sensed something was off, too.

Nothing was ever this simple.

The demoness frowned slightly, brushing away her bangs, which kept falling into her eyes.

— But this will not be just a game, — she reveals her cards a little at a time, places a snow globe on the table, and then picks up a glass with a warming liquid

Cipher’s gaze shifted to the glass object. Ever since Pyronica had found out where—or rather, from whom—it came, she had been carrying it around obsessively.

And it had irritated him so much that he had sworn to shatter that damn [his exact words] trinket into pieces.

It also blurs his eyes, reminding him of the light mark on his arm, and of the girl Pines with bright green eyes, a sweet smile, a mass of light brown hair, and a short, slightly snub nose.

She's definitely not his type.

— Let's play on a wish

There it was. The trap.

— If you need something, you could just ask, — Bill said with feigned nonchalance, his sharp gaze tracking her every subtle movement.

He had no intention of falling for Pyronica’s provocation.

And to uncover what she was really up to, the demon turned to his favorite method.

But Pyronica wasn’t thinking about anything in particular—yet at the same time, she was thinking about everything. Her thoughts were too vast, too unnaturally chaotic, making it nearly impossible to untangle the mess inside her mind.

A sour smirk curled on Bill’s lips.

After all these years of friendship, she had learned his tricks.

Bitch.

— But that’s no fun, — she drawled with boredom. — I just want to play with you. And if, by some chance, I win… I’ll ask for a tiny little favor.

Bill’s instincts screamed that this mademoiselle was blatantly lying.

— Or are you scared?

Cipher’s eyes gleamed dangerously, making Pyronica smirk ever so slightly.

She knew exactly which strings to pull to get what she wanted.

— Give the lady your seat, Cryptos, — Bill muttered in an icy tone.

— Seriously, Bill? You’re not actually going to…

— Don’t keep a lady waiting, — he cut in, louder this time.

Cryptos shook his head in frustration but complied with his friend’s “request.”

— Just don’t take too long, — he muttered, casting them one last glance before leaving the room.

Once the pieces were arranged in their starting positions and the game clock set, the demons began their match.

Click.

The white pawn has moved across the board.

Click.

Cipher made a move in response.

Click.

Due to the muted twilight, the warm fire from the fireplace and the ticking of the clock, the room had a magical atmosphere, lulling, or something. And only players who were closely watching their opponent's every move disturbed it.

The white figure moved across the board, and Cipher gritted his teeth in anger.

The position was too uncomfortable for him and the defeat was too close.

Pironica had always been a great player. Bill knew this, because he had taught her himself, so he tries to hide the slight excitement that has settled in his soul.

He smiles slyly, throwing off the sarcasm, and sips his whiskey.

Chess is his game, and not only tactics are important here, but also appearance. It's important to let your opponent see the confidence in your own actions, in victory.

Bill makes another move, removing one of her pieces from the game.

Click.

The girl ponders her next move, tucking a wayward pink strand behind her ear. The next moment, the black figure flies off the board.

Click.

Cipher stares at his opponent in surprise, his golden eyes sparkling in the semi-darkness of the room.

— The next move is yours, — she says in a sweet voice, sipping her whiskey. Her massive bracelets hit the glass, creating an annoying sound for Bill.

Knock, knock.

He arches a thoughtful eyebrow and turns his gaze back to the board.

Knock, knock.

"What game are you playing?"

Knock, knock.

The opponent must be taken with calmness and indifference.

Knock, knock.

You need to bluff to the last.

Click..

Pironika moves another piece and smiles triumphantly.

— Checkmate, darling, — she imitates Bill's manner.

— How did you do that? — he asks, barely able to believe his eyes.

— I had a good teacher.

It's both pleasant and annoying at the same time.

— What do you want?

The demoness taps her fingernail lightly on the snow globe that has been standing next to her all this time.

Bill realizes that she is clearly up to no good.

Pyronika only smiles mysteriously in response

Something he definitely wouldn’t like.

— I want you to fulfill your destiny. You and your soulmate are meant to be together.

— Excuse me, what?! — Bill snarled.

— You’re excused.

Cipher nearly hissed in fury, clearly torn between cursing her out or flinging a few hexes in her direction.

— I’m allergic to your mood swings, — she said calmly, taking another sip from her glass. — Besides, you don’t have the right to refuse me.

“That bitc…”

— Fine! I don’t care, — he spat out, exhaling sharply through gritted teeth, forcing down the tight knot in his throat.

Almost not a lie.

Almost didn’t care.

Chapter Text

Bill looks at the well-worn, time-worn check in his hand and tries to delay [as Pironika put it] the fateful event.

He offered his friend fame, fortune, his own galaxy, and finally, another game of chess.

Of course, she refused.

Flashback

— Why are you behaving like this?  — Pironika paced around his living room in a hostess-like manner, her high heels clacking. —  Are you afraid that this is not all nonsense?

The demoness asked with obvious mockery, looking at him haughtily with a "I'm right, as always" look.

You bitch. Bill could barely stop himself from strangling her. 

— You just don't know who my soulmate is

Flashback

Cipher hears long rings in the phone, and he really wants to find out that Shooting Star has changed her number or made a mistake when she gave him the check

Flashback

— Don't tell me she's a vampire! — Pironika makes a defiant face.

— Worse than that.

— A werewolf, maybe? — she straightens her pink bangs and snorts with an epiphany.

— She's a human. 

— So what?

Flashback

— Hello? —  Pines' voice is cheerful, and for some reason Bill is sure she's smiling, — who am I talking to?

— I'm... — the demon falls silent. He can't tell her his name. — Your soulmate, I think.

Flashback

 — She’s Six-Fingers’ niece, — he spat with disgust.

— What is it they say: the earth is round? — the demoness shrugged indifferently, a faint smirk playing on her lips. Her violet eyes gleamed with an unspoken: And? Well, what else is wrong?

— She is also a sign of my circle.  

Pyronica bit her nail thoughtfully.

During Weirdmageddon, she had mostly been having fun, ignoring the little bugs scurrying beneath her feet [a mistake, in hindsight]. But now, a memory surfaced - of that girl in the bright sweater.

For some reason, her - out of everyone - Bill had shielded from the madness. Locked her away in a fake but admittedly charming world of his own creation.

The thought nearly made Pyronica burst into laughter. But she cut herself off quickly, feeling the burning glare of her friend.

She knew - he had just been rummaging through her thoughts

— "You have to admit, this is really funny," — the demoness says mentally, — any other complaints? — she adds out loud.

— I kind of tried to kill her, her family, her friends, the whole town, if you haven't forgotten, of course! — Bill really hopes that his friend will take pity on him under the weight of arguments.

— Well, congratulations, Cipher! — the demoness claps her hands and smiles predatory.  — You have three yeses, and you can move on! 

Flashback

— I wasn’t expecting a call from you, — her voice held no trace of reproach, only a hint of playful teasing.

— I needed to gather my thoughts.

— Yeah… me too…

***

Turned out, Shooting Star was in Piedmont. Which, honestly, was a relief for Cipher. He had zero desire to return to that wretched Gravity Falls especially for her.

The only exception, of course, would be for sealing some favorite deals, but that was a different matter entirely. Passing by garishly painted clowns, brightly colored tents, and obnoxious frauds, Bill scoured the crowd for Pines, cursing her for every second he had to spend in this place.

A fair.

Of course.

Letting her pick the meeting spot had been a mistake. Cipher should have known that the ever-optimistic Mabel, with her love of fun and magic, would drag him to a place like this. But the realization only hit when he arrived.

It had been stupid to think she’d pick a fancy restaurant or an art museum. Not that Bill was against music, fun, or especially parties.But this? This was pure tastelessness.

He was seriously considering making a quiet exit before it was too late.But then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a mass of curly chestnut hair and a bright, blindingly colorful sweater.

…Time for a change of plans.

As he made his way through the crowd, Cipher  came almost close to Pines. She was watching an old woman dressed like a gypsy, with all kinds of rattles around her neck, arms, and ears [obviously fake]. The woman was whispering something in an unknown language, most likely made up by her, waving her arms theatrically and throwing tarot cards around.

Men and women of all ages were stomping around her, wanting to hear what awaited them, what to fear, and what to expect. They wanted to know their future. The so-called clairvoyant, without hesitation, kept telling the same story: "I see a family, children, happiness, wealth. "Pay the money and please go.

Mabel hummed as she watched, folding her arms across her chest.

— And who actually falls for this? — Bill finally decided to reveal himself.

Pines flinched at the unexpected voice, turning around—then immediately broke into a sweet smile upon seeing him.

— Anyone who doesn’t understand magic, — she glanced at the fortune teller, then back at him. — So, about 99 percent of people.

— And you do?

— Maybe, — Mabel smirked mysteriously and winked. — We can never be completely sure of anything. I mean, initials appear on our hands by some unknown force—so is it really surprising that people believe in stuff like this?

She extended her hand.

— Mabel Pines.

— Bryan Campbell — the demon, shakes her frail, warm hand, piercing the light mark on her wrist. 

It seems so unreal that Bill wants to pinch himself. Suddenly he wakes up. Mabel tilts her head to the side, staring at him in awe. Just like back in the Shack.

— How could it be otherwise?

She smiled again, and grabbing his arm, she led him past the various tents, trying to find something interesting, while, of course, asking him various [in his opinion] provocative questions. [Paranoia had always been his thing]. The demon answered vaguely, trying not to give her any specifics, although he asked leading questions, which Pines answered without any secrecy, avoiding only the topic of Gravity Falls. 

And despite this, he listens to her almost attentively

— Do you see that?! — the girl squealed excitedly, sparks of joy flashing in her eyes.

Bill glanced around, trying to figure out what had caused such an outburst. But seeing nothing unusual, he turned back to her with a puzzled look, waiting for some kind of explanation.

— They’re selling cotton candy! — she finally clarified, pointing toward a stand nearby. — Let’s get some!

— I don’t like sweets, S… — Star. Bill barely stopped himself from slamming his mouth shut. A terrible habit—one that could expose him completely. — …Cutie.

Mabel gave him a look of pure disbelief, blinking her emerald-green eyes.

How can someone not like sweets?!

"Is he really my soulmate?"

"I’m just as shocked, sweetheart."

— But if you’re that passionate about sugar, then go ahead. My treat.

After all, he wouldn’t be the one paying for her future dentist visits.

Pines smiled gratefully and they headed for the kiosk. Bill had to cheat by turning on his charm to get them through the line.

— It's a little unfair, — Mabel said, biting off some cotton candy with pleasure.

— But you got what you wanted, — the demon shrugged indifferently.

— Do you want to try some?

Cipher hates sweets, but her offer somehow sounded tempting, so much so that he would have almost agreed if the bell hadn't suddenly rung.

When she saw the name on the phone screen, her good mood abruptly disappeared. Mabel fidgeted, looking at Bill and then at the phone in confusion. Finally, she sighed heavily, answered the phone, gave the demon the cotton candy, and stepped aside.

Cipher realized that the conversation was clearly not for his ears, and although he was curious, he turned his gaze in the opposite direction from the girl, watching the children throwing balls into the jars, hoping to win a toy. Many of them, of course, failed. Crooked-armed fools.

— Do you want to play? — Mabel came almost close to him, trying to seem as cheerful as she had been a few minutes ago, but you can't fool a demon.

— Such games are not for me.

She watched the boy who failed to hit the target and walked away from the other rides in frustration. He reminded her of Dipper, and his failed attempts to please his lover. Her brother still hates this game. Wendy still doesn't understand why

— What are yours?

Bill doesn't answer. She wouldn't understand.

— Who were you talking to? — the question is tactless, but he's never been one to care about decorum.

Mabel raised her eyebrows in surprise, nervously twisting the phone in her hands.

— It's... Uh, sort of... my boyfriend

— Kind of? — Bill mimicked with mocking amusement, smirking.

— It's complicated. We're on the verge of breaking up, and… — she started, almost defensively.

— Got it. Classic scenario, — the demon shrugged indifferently and handed her back the cotton candy.

Mabel froze.

She had expected something—disappointment, anger, sadness, surprise—anything but this.

— And… you have nothing to say?

— Good for you.

— Good for me?

— Always best to have a backup plan.

He nodded toward her right hand.

— In the end, it doesn’t mean a thing.

Another one.

Are you kidding me?!

Mabel wanted to argue but bit her tongue just in time. There was no point in forcing her opinion on him. Let him think what he wants.

She had learned firsthand how important the soulmate bond was, how dangerous it was to play with fate, trying to change things.

It never led to anything good. Even Jeremy had come to understand that. And yet, he still wasn’t in a hurry to break up with her.

Not love - just habit.

— So do you have a "backup plan" too? — she frowned, finishing off her cotton candy.

Bill, watching her, caught himself thinking - Mabel really was kind of cute. No wonder she had intrigued him more than the other members of the circle. And then he remembered.

She had the blood of his enemy.

She was his enemy.

And that thought sparked something inside him - something messy and contradictory, twisting together into a knot of unfamiliar emotions.

Cipher didn’t know how to react to it.

What to do with it.

How to fight it.

So he blamed the soulmate bond.

— Already jealous? — the demon asked smugly. — Surprisingly, no. I never thought of it.

His grin was sharp, predatory—worse than that, even. But Mabel didn’t seem to notice. She only nodded, lips curling into a faint half-smile.

His answer brought her an odd sense of relief. Because, really -who would want to know that they could be so easily replaced?

And then, she fell into thought.

Bill knew that some poor guy named Jeremy was in for a long conversation tonight. Pines had finally decided to put an end to things.

Cipher, despite his curiosity, didn’t meddle in other people’s relationships. But when he saw her moving toward the Ferris wheel. He grabbed her wrist.

Chapter Text

Mabel never told anyone just how much Weirdmageddon had affected her. Those had been the worst days of her life, and when it was finally over, all she wanted was to return to normal.

But that didn’t happen.

A few days later, the nightmares began—filled with bloody, horrifying details.

She hung a dreamcatcher on her wall.

It didn’t help.

The girl kept waking up drenched in cold sweat. And judging by the dark circles under Dipper’s eyes, so did he.

They never talked about it.

Because it was in the past.

Because things were fine now.

So they should stop being afraid.

And they did.

Almost.

Yet sometimes, when walking through town past certain places.

They flinched. Hard.

Mabel thought that the sky above her head was red, not blue, and the grass was brown and black instead of green. She had to rub her eyes hard to make sure it wasn't true. That it was a glitch in her head. A momentary delusion. A glitch.

Dipper said that this was most likely post-traumatic stress disorder, which is common in the military and war victims. He added that it occurs as a result of events that have a negative impact on the human psyche.

Mabel didn't understand most of what he was saying at the time, and decided not to.

But even at twenty, the nightmares still haunted her. The scars of Weirdmageddon still lingered though their grip on her had weakened.

02:41

She has almost gotten used to these "nighttime rises"; with age, it has indeed slowly faded away, but every dream that reminds her of the past gives her the same goosebumps.

The blood. Fire. Monsters. A throne made of people. Demons. 

Pines glanced around the room. The bed next to hers was empty just her “luck”, tonight of all nights, Dipper had decided to stay over at Wendy’s.

Her gaze shifted to the triangular window. [How many times had she asked her uncles to replace it?!]

Outside, thousands of stars burned brightly in the night sky. Moonlight barely illuminated the old attic. Mabel sleepily rubbed her eyes, then instinctively reached for her glass of water only to find it wasn’t there.

Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she got up and headed toward the kitchen.

Halfway down the stairs, she suddenly stopped.

An urge.

A sharp, unexplainable pull toward Bryan.

Was it the soulmate bond?

Or just her own feelings?

She wasn’t sure.

But with him, she felt safe.

Comfortable.

At peace.

Still she knew better than to go to him now. He was probably asleep, and she didn’t want to wake him.

Descending the last steps, Mabel noticed a dim glow coming from the kitchen and, without hesitation, made her way there.

— Why aren’t you asleep? — Bill’s voice was a whisper, though slightly rough, as he caught sight of her from the corner of his eye.

— Who were you talking to?

Her eyes flicked to the phone in his hand the source of the light.

— A friend.

Pines, adjusting the silk strap of her peignoir, notes to herself that despite all the stories, she still doesn't know Brian's friends.

— Did something happen, Mabel? —there's a hint of concern in his voice.

– Just a nightmare.

Bill hands her a glass of water, to which the girl smiles gratefully and then takes a few small sips.

— Care to share?

She shakes her head in refusal.

And there was no need.

He's already heard enough; she has told him.

And thanks to her thoughts, he sees everything in incredibly vivid colors. Something whimpers plaintively in the demon's soul. He simply nods, then gently wrapping his arm around her shoulders, leads her to the living room, seating her on the couch.

She is amazing, so homely and cozy that, looking at her, his [seemingly callous] heart aches.

Bill hands Mabel a soft blanket and sits beside her. Her head immediately rests on his shoulder.

All of this is absurdly wrong, so much so that it's impossible to even understand what exactly is wrong with what's happening. But is there any point in complaining now? The universe has already decided for them, without the right to choose.

Both remained silent.

But this silence wasn't oppressive; on the contrary, it was... comfortable, peaceful. Pines was already nearly dozing off in his arms. Bill heard her muffled breathing, steady heartbeat, and for some reason, it affected him better than any drug.

— You're about to fall asleep, — he said barely audibly,  — and this couch is extremely uncomfortable. —

The girl frowns in displeasure but still nods, and grabbing Cipher by the hand, heads to bed, pulling him along. Entering the room, she stands in front of him, hugging the demon tightly around the neck, burying her nose in the collar of his white shirt.

— Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?— she sweetly drawls, pressing even closer to him.

Bill nuzzles her snow-white neck, inhaling the scent of cherry and something else indescribably sweet, viscous.

— Of course.

Fate, apparently, has a very specific sense of humor, and its own plans for them. Maybe Cypher will think about voluntarily surrendering to her clutches this time, even for a short time.

Chapter Text

Spring in Gravity Falls was unexpectedly quiet. It smelled of damp earth and pine after a recent rain, and if you ignore the gnomes that Wendy chases out of the house with a broom every day, and the fairies more persistent than flies, their lives were ordinary.

Stanley was endlessly fooling naive townsfolk, Wendy missed her post at the stand, Soos was mopping the floor after a clumsy kid spilled soda, and Ford was sailing somewhere in distant seas, studying anomalies.

A pine tree, he’s been working part-time at the local police station for about six months now, while Shooting Star tends to a small garden she planted herself and occasionally sells watercolor paintings in the gift shop.

A monotonous, predictable rhythm that is commonplace for billions of people. Morning coffee to the sound of an old TV. Walks along the lake. Conversations about tomorrow's plans, pressing matters, and the many bills at family dinners, where Mabel makes sure every member of the Families.

And this rhythm consumed even him. Instead of hosting another bloody party or conquering a new galaxy, Bill Cipher - or rather Brian Cidwell - sits on the deck with a laptop on his lap, writing code for some dull accounting program.

Sometimes, when his gaze lingers on a gathering of all these silly people, an old hunger awakens within. An intellect capable of ruling worlds tires in this voluntary “prison.”

And somewhere out there, deep in the forest, lies the symbol of his defeat. The finest vessel of all that exist: the statue. He never visited it, always avoided the path, but he knew it was there.

And somewhere there, deep in the forest, is a symbol of his defeat. The best shell there is. A statue. He never went to it, always avoided the road, but he knew it was there.

Sometimes he feels drawn to it like a magnet, and a persistent thought circles in his mind—that he’s still capable of a second act.

In such moments, Bill looks at Mabel.

When she carefreely waters flowers in the garden, braids her friends’ hair, or knits another sweater, softly humming a lullaby.

Right now she’s wearing a simple summer dress, [and he really wants to throw his denim jacket over her shoulders. No matter how bright the sun shines, it’s still too cool, but she stubbornly reaches for warmth], her chestnut hair loosely tied in a bun.

Bill doesn’t stop working; his fingers move chaotically over the keyboard, but he occasionally shoots her quick glances.

Then a stray dog bounds over to her. Shooting Star laughs brightly, and Cipher frowns in annoyance [who knows what illness that flea-ridden creature might carry], yet he sees she’s happy.

Happy right at that moment with that deep, incompletely understood human happiness.

He must have been too deep in thought because he didn't even notice when Mabel ran up to him. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and, seeing his frown, asked him with concern: “A complicated code?”

“Yeah, kind of," he replied, putting on a smile and wrapping his arms around her waist as she sat down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

Of course the code wasn’t difficult. For his brilliant mind, it was trivial. He does it just to kill boredom and so her relatives have fewer questions about where he gets all this money.

A kind of illusion of normalcy. Just as Pyronica prescribed.

Bill would lie if he said he didn’t like this quiet, everyday life of Brian Cidwell. Quite the opposite. It’s just that sometimes his demonic nature - the craving for blood, chaos, and destruction - stubbornly tries to break through, but he’s already found a way to pacify it. The hugs of a girl with green eyes and the initials on his right hand are quite sufficient.

Chapter Text

Mabel Pines was the kindest of souls. Bill had always known that, from the first time they met. But watching her talk sweetly to Glyphul, he thought it was too much.

”We've grown up, I'm not going to be angry with him all my life," the girl smiled sweetly and lightly tapped the demon on the shoulder.  ”After all, everyone deserves a second chance."

No, not everyone.

And Shooting Star just developed a terrible habit of forgiving her enemies. And Bill couldn't explain to her that she shouldn't do that.

She shouldn't feed the annoying dwarves who tried to kidnap her and make her their queen.

You shouldn't brush the mane of a horned horse that almost brought her to a nervous breakdown.

You shouldn't console the Northwest bitch when her family has lost money once again, you shouldn't offer her help, and you should definitely not provide her with a free night's lodging.

But, in truth, Bill had no right to lecture her at least not in these matters because to Mabel (and everyone else), he was Brian Sindwell: her soulmate, a sweet and caring guy who knew about her past only through photos and brief stories.

"She sat on your neck and dangled her legs," the demon snorts, the presence of the Lama irritating him, "put her back, or I swear I will.

“She’s my friend,” she whispered, so only he could hear.

Cipher ran his long fingers through her silky, chestnut hair, gently tousling it.

“She’s just a manipulative, spoiled brat.”

Bill knew that for certain.

He could sense his own kind from a mile away.

And perhaps that’s why he tried to protect young Mabel Pines from all the rotten and deceitful people, from the forest monsters, and maybe even from himself.

***

What are you doing? Bill leans against the doorframe, watching the girl seated on the floor across the room with curiosity.

Scattered around her are all three journals. She flips through them quickly and chaotically, taking photos.

“Uncle and Dipper needed some information,” she replies without even looking up. “They asked me to send it.”

“I thought they had all the entries memorized.”

“So did I...” Mabel smiles faintly at his sarcastic remark.

Closing the distance between them, he sits down beside her, carefully examining the familiar entries.

Bill is genuinely surprised that Six-Finger and Pine dared to go study another anomaly, leaving Mabel alone with him for several weeks. Alone.

He has a new body, name, and habits, but the Pines still look at him as an enemy, sense something off, consider him a bad person, and don't trust him.

Cipher knows he fully deserves such treatment. He accepts it as a form of atonement for his sins.

Mabel flips another page, and they both freeze.

“Bill Cipher.”

“Bill cannot be trusted.”

“Under no circumstances should he be summoned.”

To him, it's like echoes from the past, something so distant it's almost forgotten.

To her, it's not such a distant past, one she remembers in every detail and will never forget, even if her memory were wiped.

“Is this the demon you told me about?” Perhaps seconds or hours passed before he decided to break the silence.

She had surprisingly told him a lot, and listening to all of it while keeping himself in check  was damn hard. He wanted to punch himself, break all his limbs, and go through all the circles of hell.

Bill Cipher felt ashamed, just a little, and only in front of her.

“When you're around, I'm not afraid of anything,” she once said when he saved her from a fanged bloodsucker.

He had long hesitated whether to help her. He watched as the vampire nearly tore her throat out, thinking it might be easier to get rid of the "problem" and return to a "normal life."

Bill saved her at the last second.

The Pines are right.

He was never a good person, no matter how much Mabel admired him or how well he played his role. Cipher was still a cruel, selfish demon.

He hears her accelerated heartbeat. The girl is scared, pressing against him, seeking protection, because Bill Cipher is her nightmare, and it's not an allergy.

Mabel Pines found salvation in the source of her fear.

And it's unbearable.

“Yes, that's him,” she finally replies, calming down. “Evil incarnate.”

Evil and Bill are inherently the same.

“Would you forgive him too?”

Mabel blinks in surprise, then ponders, looking again at the journal entries.

“I don't know,” she shrugs. “Cipher hasn't used his second chance yet, and most likely never will.”

They exchange glances.

The girl smiles brightly, flipping another page, lost in her thoughts. As is Bill.

Someday he'll snap and tell her.

Someday she might understand.

“But you know, purely hypothetically, if Bill changed, I would forgive him,” Pines adds unexpectedly.

“Don't. Don't forgive.”

Chapter Text

 "So, you supposedly saved us" Bill said, stretching each word in his usual manner, a slight half-smile playing on his lips.  

Pyronica made herself comfortable on the Pines' cozy sofa. Her head still hurt unbearably, but the demoness tried not to lose her inherent optimism.

"Well, we're supposed to be friends," she said, imitating Cypher.

At which he only snorted with mock displeasure, rolling his eyes.

"And I should probably thank you."

Bill sat down next to his friend, catching a slightly surprised look from her lilac eyes. She wasn't used to this. Usually, Cipher took her help for granted.  

Realizing that you admitted it despite your narcissism and pride will be enough for me," the demoness lightly tapped her friend on the shoulder. “Means it wasn't all in vain,” she sighed wearily, glancing at the wounds on his arms. Good thing demons heal quickly. “Now you can go find your Shooting Star, while I try to calm her relatives.”

“You don't have to do that.”

Pyronica tilted her head to the side, shrugging.

“You'll owe me, again,” she winked at Cipher, offering a friendly smile.

He nodded and was about to leave when his friend suddenly called out:

“Try to tell her the truth. It's really important, especially now.”

And incredibly difficult, especially for him.  

***  

Mabel wrings her hands, nervously biting her lip, barely holding back tears, while a gentle autumn breeze rustles the yellowing leaves on the trees, and the sky gradually turns a crimson hue.

Pines doesn't know why she came here specifically: to Uncle Ford's bunker, the Shapeshifter's trap, a place her brother and his girlfriend avoid. Perhaps that's the reason? So they wouldn't come, wouldn't comfort, wouldn't pity...

She feels damn guilty, though she hasn't actually done anything. But in essence, she betrayed her family, friends, and even herself... Falling in love with the enemy, getting entangled in his web it's not what she dreamed of as a child.

Not what she expected from life!

And from the bitch called fate.

She dreamed of a Shakespearean Romeo but got a semblance of the devil from the pages of Marie Corelli.  

Mabel looks at the light, white, almost transparent initials on her wrist. Tears well up in her eyes again. She also feels cruelly deceived, betrayed... broken and she smiles bitterly.

Life isn't a Disney movie, girl, and there's no prince, no colorful pictures, dances, songs, or happy ending here. At least not for you.   ”

"There you are."

The girl flinches but doesn't turn around. She should have guessed that for a demon, finding her would be a piece of cake.

Something inside Bill whimpered plaintively, yearning for her. For the one who smells of cinnamon and honey. For her emerald eyes and sweet, childishly naive smile.

Mabel Pines was too good to be his enemy and his soulmate.

"Let's talk," his voice is weary, tired.

She doesn't react, not even mentally, just pretends to admire the sunset.

"I'll explain everything."

Truth be told, Cipher believes he's not guilty of anything. He actually planned to leave her alone, not to appear in her life, forgetting about the soulmate bond, as he always did. So it's all Pyronica's fault, and the stupid chess game! Yes, anyone's fault but his own. [Self-love and selfishness still make themselves known.]

"Listen to me!" he bursts into a shout.

Mabel shudders, either from the cold or from the unusual harshness of his voice. She turns sharply, piercing him with her frightened gaze.

The demon flinched and added a bit more quietly:

"Please..."

At their first meeting, Mabel hid her fear behind a radiant smile and a mask of optimism. Fear of the unknown, fear primarily of him—a powerful demon who could kill them with a snap of his fingers. [And she understood this perfectly.] Back then, for Cipher, it was the best reward. He was an idiot.  

Now, Bill feels as if cats are scratching at his soul, digging their sharp claws deeper and deeper with each passing second, tearing his black little soul into tiny pieces, to the point of bleeding. A disgusting feeling.

"Alright," she replies mentally, realizing that the demon is probably rummaging through her mind.

She has almost no strength left to speak aloud.

Bill slowly, as if afraid to scare her, begins to approach her, cursing Azazel for suddenly, out of the blue, remembering all his grievances, for deciding to take revenge, for daring to kidnap her and keep her in chains. In some dirty, damp shack! For forcing Cipher to reveal himself.

Pyronica always told him that making so many enemies wasn't the best idea, that sooner or later such carelessness would come back to haunt him. He never listened to her, but he should have, at least occasionally.

Truth be told, being Brian was easier. At least calmer.

Cipher sits on an old log next to her. Perhaps a bit closer than he should, but Mabel doesn't move away or push him. That's a good sign. Despite this, the tension between them grows stronger and stronger with each passing minute.

The demon glances at her hands. Maroon-blue marks are clearly visible on her snow-white skin.

He clenches his fists in anger. Azazel has already gotten what he deserved.

"Why are you silent?" Pines' voice sounds unexpectedly sharp, frightening. Even to herself.

Usually, Bill couldn't be shut up. He clung to every little thing, to every careless phrase, and babbled and babbled, sarcastically joking, as if spitting poison, but now he was silent, casting brief glances at her.

"Ask," after all, he doesn't even know where to start.

"Is this some kind of revenge plan?" the first thing she thought when she found out who "Brian" really was.

And then she doubted the authenticity of the tag on her wrist. What if it was a fake? 

Mabel runs her fingers over the initials, as if trying to erase them. 

Cipher smiles unevenly, shaking his head in denial.

"It's a ridiculous coincidence," he falls silent, looking into her eyes. Something resembling disappointment is read in them, "at first, it seemed to me that it was some kind of cruel joke, but it's just random."

She sniffs, breathing becomes increasingly difficult, as if a lump is gathering in her throat. She hoped for a different answer, more... A foolish girl in love.

"You deserve someone much better than me," he adds emotionlessly, as if rehabilitating himself.

Just stating a fact. What her family constantly repeated, what he never denied.

"Don't, don't forgive," these words echo in Mabel's head.

A few months ago, she didn't give them much importance. Now the puzzle in her head has come together, showing an unappealing truth.

And Cipher tells her the truth, [omitting some details,] actively, almost theatrically gesturing and slightly distorting the truth. Primarily for her own good.

He never learned to be an honest person.

"And what was supposed to happen next?" Pines looks at him with glassy eyes, red as a vampire's, biting her already bloodied lip.

"I don't know," and that's the pure truth. He was simply doing what Pyronica had planned, without thinking about the consequences, let alone the future. After all, he couldn't even imagine it would come to this. "I can answer you any of humanity's riddles, but not this one."

Mabel sighs loudly and runs her fingers through her hair, slightly tousling it. It's all too complicated. She sobs uncontrollably, wiping away tears with the back of her hand, but they treacherously fall from her eyes, refusing to stop.

"I'm really sorry it turned out this way, Star."  

She looks at him with a surprised gaze, doubting the reality of what's happening [and not paying attention to the old, almost forgotten nickname]. Brian Sindwell couldn't have said such words, Bill Cipher even more so.

"Forgive me," he adds barely audibly, but seemingly sincerely.

And Mabel, deep down, wants to believe him, but common sense literally screams: "He's your problem. You'll have to learn to live without him!"

"Apologizing is easy, but what about taking responsibility for what you've done?"

"I'm ready to take responsibility,"

Bill replies without hesitation, sitting even closer and barely touching her hand, as if asking for permission, "but is there any point if you're not by my side?" he squeezes her hand tighter, feeling such a pleasant, albeit cold, to the touch skin.

The girl remains silent for a while, thinking over everything that happened between them, weighing all the bad and good on the "scales," and can't stand it, throws herself on his neck, burying her nose in his white shirt, feeling the already familiar scent.  

Cipher pulls her even closer, feeling a pleasant warmth spreading through his chest, making his heart feel lighter.

Bill believes they can become a real family. He's ready to attend various events, silly holidays she loves, just to see Mabel rejoice at the fireworks, wrinkling her nose because it's too loud, but so beautiful...

Watching this for eternity.

Chapter Text

Mabel fell asleep almost immediately after they returned to the Shack. She was exhausted. Over a day in chains in a cold basement, one emotional shock after another no wonder her sleep was so restless. She clutched his hand tightly, muttered something incoherent, and twitched occasionally in her sleep.

Bill strokes her palm soothingly with his thumb, gently running his free hand through her tangled curls. His mind is a restless whirlpool of thoughts that he has managed to calm down a little, but not completely.

Talking is not enough. Now he and Mabel will have to rebuild their relationship out of broken Lego pieces, trying to put something whole back together. Fortunately, her relatives do not interfere and remain silent. Yes, they look at him askance, distrustfully-he's no stranger to this-and angrily, but they keep quiet, gritting their teeth. Bill doesn't know what Pyronica said to them, but it's obvious that he owes her a lot.

”How is she?" the voice is quiet, but Bill jerks, reflexively jumping to his feet. [That witch has always heard people talking about her. His best friend laughs softly, leaning her shoulder against the doorjamb, "We're so nervous. You didn't jerk like that when the Time Police had a gun to the back of your head.

Bill rolls his eyes, but swallows the pin. He doesn't have the strength to answer. Pyronica sees it. Pyronica always sees everything. Pironika sees too much. Sometimes it pisses him off.

She cast a quick glance at Mabel, and Cipher noticed genuine concern flicker in her lilac eyes before she turned to him and nodded toward the door.

Shooting Star frowned again in her sleep, and Bill, before leaving, quickly kissed her on the forehead.

She pulled him onto the roof, conjured them drinks, but Bill only twirled the faceted glass in his hands, not taking a single sip. The late October evening enveloped the forest in velvety darkness. The air was truly cold now, smelling of damp earth and decaying leaves.

Pyronica, once again, Cipher noted, was in many ways similar to Mabel. She found it hard to stay silent. Even though his gaze was directed downward, watching the gnomes scurrying about, her eyes were fixed directly on him.

She tried to get him to talk, though he didn't immediately catch on, only paying attention when he heard about Kryptos, where and how he planned to hide the body [or rather, what's left of it], and that they would do everything possible to keep the time police from tracing it back to Bill, because obviously, they would take the disappearance of one of the strongest demons very seriously.

Her pink strands flickered in his peripheral vision, and the sound of her massive bracelets clinking together no longer seemed so irritating.

"You're too quiet!" she finally exclaimed, prompting a chuckle from Bill that made her smile.

He was silent not because he had nothing to say on the contrary, his mind was filled with thousands of words, but they just wouldn't form sentences.

"When I started all this, I never thought it would turn out... like this... I mean... it's all such human crap!"

Bill finally looked at her and laughed. Pyronica mentally sighed in relief, smiling broadly as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

"I never thought at all... After all, I'm a demon, not the hero of a bad romantic melodrama."

"Well... you're not that bad in this role."

She gently nudged his shoulder, and Cipher, accepting his fate, mentally agreed.

"How many centuries ahead do I owe you?"

"She's good for you," Pyronica said, ignoring his words, and Bill froze for a moment. Of course, she'd told him similar things before, but now she said it with such tenderness and care.

After all, in that "good," she had invested so much caring, merciful, loving. As if saying: "I'm glad that now I'm not the only one keeping you in chains, because mine have rusted, and you often broke free from them" he read this not even in her thoughts, but in her lilac eyes, and all he could do was nod and say:

"Yes, she's like that."

Chapter Text

“You seem to be avoiding me,” Bill leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, with that same half-smile he usually hides unsolicited anxiety behind.

This conversation had been brewing for a long time.

Pyronika didn’t answer. She sat on the floor with a focused look, surrounded by old, dusty tomes and herbs gathered in the forest by hand. Busy, as if for real.

"I'm not that insufferable," he continued, arrogantly. "Although, on second thought, maybe I am.

“Nice to see you finally acknowledging the obvious,” she didn’t even lift her gaze, just snapped her fingers, making another grimoire appear beside her.

Bill despises it her love of witchcraft, amulets, and potions. He simply doesn't understand why such a superior, intelligent [equal to him] being would lower himself several ranks, and ignores the fact that it was these "stupid potions" and "trinkets" that helped him restore his magic, albeit not completely.

“Then say it straight. What happened?”

A pause.

Pyronika set one of the tomes aside and looked at him tiredly. Her lilac eyes, usually sparkling with sarcasm and playful fire, now looked… strangely sad, worn out.

“Have you ever wondered why I’m still by your side? After everything? After that damn Azazel drama, the kidnappings, your ‘star-girl’, and the endless attempts to shove off your responsibilities?”

He froze. Looked away to the side.

Standing up, Pyronika stepped closer, nearly point-blank, forcing him to look at her. For a moment, Bill felt a slight tension, an uncertainty usually foreign to his nature.

“I have wondered,”  he said quietly.

“And?”

“I don’t have a clear answer.”

She nodded, smiled without any joy.

“Well, I’ll tell you. It’s because you are my weakness, Bill. Damn you!”

He blinked in surprise, not knowing what to say.

“I’m not even sure it’s friendship! Or just a sick habit? Or something else I can’t even name…”

Cipher tried to toss in a sarcastic comment but failed. Something in her voice stopped him. A red light lit up in his subconscious, the brakes kicked in, the words stuck in his throat.

“I saw how you looked at her. Saw you losing the last bits of your sanity when she disappeared… and you know, no, I’m not angry. It’s just…” Pyronika exhaled loudly, running her fingers through her hair, ruffling it. “Damn it, I could’ve been the perfect villain in your story! And you would’ve deserved it! Ungrateful, narcissistic bastard! You keep dragging me into all sorts of schemes, problems, and expect me to solve them on equal footing with you! And the most absurd thing is that I actually do it every time!” and spreading her arms, she fell silent.

She's just a little bit offended that at least a little gratitude was raised in him by that girl. That she heard a sincere "thank you" only after several thousand years. Pironika tried, too, and he did listen to her from time to time, but not in the…

Mabel is really special, good, wonderful and incredible, and the demoness is not sure if it's the marks, maybe it's just that she is.

And no, she wasn’t jealous. After all, she was the one who brought them together. It’s just that where humans have a “soul”, she was supposed to have an emptiness but that stupid, phantom pain sometimes made itself known. Something aches dully, and to avoid making it worse best not to give it a name.

It’s almost funny: Bill had thought for so long that he was in love with her . Pyronika still hadn’t figured out how he so suddenly, after so many centuries, switched his attention to her . It was funny, ridiculous, even flattering but it wasn’t true. Back then, he believed the reason was their lack of marks, and that’s why she resisted [and there was some truth to that], but Pyronika understood that he would calm down eventually and their friendship could suffer for it.

Cipher continues to be silent, not because he knows she is right [she should have turned away from him a long time ago, instead of getting bogged down with him in the mire he drags her into, but she pulls him out], but because he is afraid, as always, of saying the wrong thing: harsh, sarcastic, inappropriate, but not out of malice, because he doesn't know how else to.

“I just realized I’m stuck. In you. In us. In this endless game…”

“You knew who you were dealing with,” he almost whispered, and immediately wished he could bite off his own tongue. In his head, it didn’t sound nearly as awful as it did out loud.

“Of course. But apparently, I didn’t understand just how dangerous it was to feel anything for you.”

Bill felt like the room suddenly became too suffocating, but he kept looking her in the eyes. Because Mabel once said that they held all the truth. He hoped that his best friend, who always read him far too well, would be able to read his truth now, too.

“But it’s fine, Bill. Really. I’m not asking for anything. Not love, not confessions. We’re demons. Things work differently for us. But you asked and I needed to say it. Just so I don’t go insane from my own silence.”

Pyronika walked past him, brushing her fingers lightly over his shoulder. For a second, no more. And he remained standing in the room, as if anchored to the floor.