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Chapter Text

Dipper gazed down at the lumberjack hat in his hands. It had been two years since Wendy had given it to him, and he was finally ready to return it. 

"Brobro! We're here!" Mabel nudged him to get his attention. He hummed in response, following her as she dashed off the bus with her bag.

Once outside, they were welcomed by their grunkles and friends. "Oh! Mabel! Great to see you again! Your hair's gotten so long!" Candy and Grenda chimed in. 

"Hey dork," Wendy said with a grin, playfully punching his shoulder. Dipper smiled back and lifted the hat, saying, "Hi, Wendy." She took the hat and handed back his blue and white one. "How come you didn't come last summer with Mabel?" Dipper's smile faltered, but Ford quickly stepped in. 

"Hello, Dipper! Good to see you again." He ruffled Dipper's hair with a smile, "Are you ready for this summer? Stan and Mabel are heading back to the Shack now." Dipper nodded. 

"Where's Pacifica?" The brunet asked. "She's away on a trip for a few days." Candy responded as she fixed her glasses.

After exchanging more greetings and catching up, Ford and Dipper followed Soos back to the Mystery Shack. It looked a bit different than it had two years ago—still a quirky tourist trap, but noticeably larger. The roof had been redone while preserving its old charm, with the iconic dangling 'S' still hanging off the edge like a trademark. The paint was fresh, and a new section had been added to the back, featuring two extra rooms and more attractions.

Inside, they found Stan and Mabel decorating the attic. Soos joined Stan to help, while Ford guided Dipper to his new room. With the Shack's recent expansion, Dipper now had a space of his own. Though smaller than the attic, it was peaceful, with a bed along one wall and a desk beneath a small window on the other. A wooden trunk sat at the foot of the bed, ready to store his clothes.

"It's not big, but it's cozy. Your sister claimed the attic last year," Ford explained. 

Dipper placed his bag on the trunk, "That alright. Thanks, Great Uncle Ford."

Ford sat on the edge of the bed, "I'm glad we can talk again, it's been a long couple months since we last saw each other." 

Dipper chuckled. "What's on your mind, kiddo?" Ford's tone softened. 

"You know... looking out for Mabel and trying to not upset my dad. Just the usual stuff." Dipper gave a nervous laugh. "Last time we talked, you said you were going to try drawing. Does it help?" Ford asked. "Yeah, it takes my mind off things."

Ford and Dipper continued to talk for a few hours as they went through Dipper's sketchpad. When the teen had finally dozed off, Ford tucked him into bed and left the room.

The next morning, Dipper joined Ford and Mabel for breakfast in the living room. Stan was busy with Soos in the Shack. 

"Morning, brobro! Slept well?" Mabel asked cheerfully. 

Dipper rubbed his eyes, still groggy. "Morning, Mab—ah!" He froze, staring at her shirt. "

What's wrong, Dipper?" Mabel asked, puzzled. "N-Nothing... Nothing..." he sighed as the logo morphed back into a shooting star. 

"It's still happening?" Ford inquired, setting down his plate. Dipper spoke softly, "Yes." 

"Eat. We'll discuss it in the lab afterward." Dipper nodded. 

"Discuss what? Is everything okay?" Mabel glanced nervously between them. Dipper sighed. 

"Your brother has a bit of PTSD from Weirdmageddon—specifically from Bill." Mabel gasped at Ford's revelation. 

"Wait, you were serious? You weren't joking?" Dipper rolled his eyes. 

"Who would joke about that? Just-" Dipper took a deep breath and smiled, "Let's eat, okay?"

After breakfast, Dipper and Ford made their way to the lab to talk about Dipper's hallucinations. After leaving Gravity Falls two years ago, Dipper had struggled with mild PTSD. Initially, he experienced nightmares, but they soon transformed into hallucinations. He felt like someone was watching him and occasionally saw Bill's eye peering through things. It escalated to actual glimpses of Bill. Dipper had tried to confide in Mabel, but she hadn't understood, so he turned to  Ford, the one person he could whole-heartedly trust with this. The nephew and uncle had searched for signs of Bill for nearly a year but found no evidence of his return, leading them to conclude Dipper's experiences stemmed from his trauma. He had never shared this with his father, fearing disappointment, and Mabel never took him seriously whenever he tried to tell her, making it a secret between him and Ford.

After their talk, Dipper went on with his day. Most of it was spent working at the Shack, and the rest was used helping Mabel shop. By the time he got back to his room, it was late. He collapsed onto the bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Dipper groaned as he sat up, finding himself surrounded by an endless field of white daisies. This was odd; he was used to dreamless nights. So why was he dreaming? And why was he aware of it?

"Heya, Pinetree!" Dipper jumped, spinning around to see a large flying triangle—Bill. "Did you miss me?" Bill's voice was sinister, deeper than usual. 

Dipper stammered, "What do you want? No. You're gone. We defe—" 

Bill burst into laughter as he mimicked Dipper using a high pitched voice. 

Dipper's heart raced as he stumbled back. "We did. You're gone... We defeated you!" He struggled to reassure himself that it was just a nightmare, that Bill was truly gone; that his brain was playing a sick joke on him. It was just a nightmare... It wasn't real. Bill's gone. He's not here.

Suddenly, Dipper woke with a gasp, his hair damp with sweat, his head pounding. He looked around his room—everything was normal. It was just a dream... just a dream. Taking a deep breath, he steadied his shaking hands and calmed his racing heart. It was just a dream...

Chapter Text

Dipper spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, the words "You can't defeat me" repeating endlessly in his mind. It had only been a dream, yet the lingering fear gnawed at him. What if it wasn't just a dream? What if Bill wasn't truly gone? Maybe he had been trapped and managed to escape, or—no... No, he was being paranoid again. Ford had searched tirelessly for any signs of Bill's return and found nothing. If Ford said Bill was truly gone, then he had to be gone... right?

"Brobro, are you okay? You've been staring at your food for twenty minutes." Mabel's voice snapped Dipper out of his thoughts. 

"Uh... yeah, I'm fine. I'm just not hungry," he replied, avoiding eye contact. Ford glanced at him, sensing something was off. 

"How was your night?" Stan asked, trying to ease the awkward silence. 

"It was... fine," Dipper answered. "I'm going to go to the forest for a few minutes before my shift." He stood abruptly.

"I'm coming with you then. To keep you safe," Ford declared, gathering their plates. 

"Oh! Can I come too? We haven't had an adventure in forever—" 

"Sorry, Mabel. I just need some time alone right now." 

Mabel frowned. "But Grunkle Ford is going with you!" 

Ford smiled gently at the girl. "Why don't you stay with Stan for now?" Reluctantly, she nodded.

Ford followed Dipper into the forest until they reached a riverbank. They both sat at the edge of the bank in silence for a while until Ford spoke up. "So, what's up? Saw something at breakfast?" 

Dipper shook his head. "No... I had a nightmare about Bill." 

Ford raised an eyebrow, "I thought your nightmares stopped when the hallucinations started?" 

Dipper looked away, "They did, but... I had one last night." 

Ford pulled him into a comforting hug, "It's getting worse. We really should tell your father so you can see a therapist or something." 

Ford wasn't the best at comforting; that was more Mabel's specialty. But ever since she started avoiding Dipper at school and didn't believe him about the hallucinations, Dipper felt that he couldn't turn to her... That she didn't truly care. 

"We can't... You know how he is. If he finds out..." 

Ford sighed, understanding Dipper's fears. His father had always placed high expectations on him, especially after losing his wife. Dipper felt pressured to care for Mabel, excel in school, and manage everything—at just fourteen. But he still didn't understand  why Dipper was so scared of disappointing his father. "At least eat and tell me more about your dream?" 

Dipper nodded and broke the hug.

Dipper barely returned in time for his shift. Ford needed to do some research on a plant specimen, so they parted ways when they arrived at the Shack. "Hey, Soos," Dipper greeted as he entered. 

"Hey dude! Just restock the shelves and take inventory, then you're done," Soos replied cheerfully. Dipper nodded and headed for the storage closet. It shouldn't be too hard, even though the boxes were slightly heavy.

"Pinetree~" Dipper froze, tightly holding a gnome ornament above the shelf. 

"Pinetree~" A gust of wind brushed against his cheek, even though he was indoors. 

"I know you can hear me~" Panic rose as he tightened his grip, feeling the glass tip of the hat cut into his palm, a few drops of blood trickling down. 

"Pinetr—" "Dipper, are you okay? You're bleeding, dude." Soos' voice broke through, and Dipper blinked at him. "Y-Yeah... Sorry. I zoned out." 

Soos nodded and turned to leave. He still had the rest of the place to run.

After his shift, Dipper found himself in Ford's lab, watching him work.  His eyes followed the man's swift movements as he shifted from place to place, taking tests and making synopses. Dipper enjoyed these moments - peaceful and quiet. They spent a few hours together before heading upstairs for dinner, with Dipper having to coax Ford to take a break.

"Hey brobro! Hi, Grunkle Ford!" Stan and Mabel were already seated and eating. They exchanged greetings as Ford and Dipper joined them. 

"How was your day, Mabel?" Stan asked. Mabel had been out all day with Candy and Grenda. 

She beamed, "It was amazing! We're planning a party next week for a big reunion since Dipper is here!" 

"That sounds great, Mabel," Ford said with a smile. Dipper stared at his plate, feeling the weight of Mabel's excitement. 

"Brobro? Aren't you excited?" she asked. 

"Uh—yeah, I am. Just tired. It's been a packed day. Can't wait to see what you have planned." Dipper forced a smile. "Actually, I'm full. I think I'll head to bed now. Good night." He stood up and left the room. 

"Huh? But he didn't eat anything?" Mabel looked over into Dipper's plate. Stan exchanged worried glances with Ford.

"Ow!" Dipper winced the moment he stepped into his room, clutching his head in pain. Everything felt deafening—the wind, the birds, the creaking floorboards, the rustling leaves. How could he hear all this at once?! 

"Awww... It sucks, doesn't it?" a mocking voice echoed in his head. Dipper squeezed his eyes shut as tears welled up. His head throbbed, his ears pounded. He could hear it all: the conversation from downstairs, the subtle blink of the light in each room, Waddles eating... all at once! 

It hurts... It hurts so so much. How can he make it stop? Why won't it stop?! 

"Well, well, well Pinetree. Can't take it? Imagine experiencing this every second of your life!" The voice echoed again. It was so loud. 

"Please... Please make it stop. Make it all stop!" Dipper cried. The noise was overwhelming. The sound of his tears hitting the floor amplified in his mind.

"Your suffering is delightful."

Suddenly, there was a soft knock, and the door creaked open. To Dipper, it sounded much much louder. "Sorry to intrude, it's just that you—Dipper! Are you okay?" Ford rushed in, pulling Dipper into a hug. "What happened? What did you se—" "Shut up!" Dipper's outburst startled Ford. 

"What's wrong?" the man whispered, panic setting in. There had to be a reason why Dipper was crying on the floor. 

"Are your ears hurting? Dipper, you need to tell me what's wrong so I can help."

"Loud... so... so loud..." Dipper's voice trembled. "Make it stop! Please!" 

Ford stared, bewildered. What was he suppose to do? What could he do? He didn't even understand what was happening.

Carefully, he laid Dipper on the bed and covered his ears with a pillow. It seemed to help a little, but not enough. Ford dashed to his lab for something that could help. After a few tense minutes, he returned and injected Dipper. Almost immediately, the boy fell asleep, much to Ford's relief. He decided to stay the night, ready to help if Dipper needed him again.

Chapter Text

Ford jolted awake at a sudden scream. "Dipper? Are you okay? Did you see him again?" 

Dipper scanned his surroundings, frantic to find the source of the sound. He could hear Ford's voice, but where was he? Was this still a dream? "G-Great Uncle Ford? Where are you?"

"I'm right here. In front of you." 

Dipper reached out, hands trembling, hoping to feel him. He could see his desk, his chair, the window, and the trees outside... So why couldn't he see Ford? "I don't—" Ford pulled Dipper into a hug. "Shhh... I'm here, see?" 

Dipper desperately clutched onto Ford's coat. Even if he couldn't see him, he could feel him. It had to be Bill's doing—Dipper cursed himself for his reckless words he had shouted at the dream demon. How could he fix this? What if he couldn't see anyone else—Mabel? Stan? Panic surged within him. "Calm down, Dipper. It's okay. We'll figure this out. Just take a deep breath."

"I can't see you! How am I supposed to calm down?! It's all my fault! That damn demon—"
Ford sighed and cut him off. "We'll fix it. But I need you to calm down first, so I can think. Please."

Dipper swallowed hard and nodded. Though still trembling, he took a deep breath and steadied himself. 

"Now, tell me what happened. You said Bill did something? That it's your fault?"

Dipper nodded, still gripping Ford's coat. "I... I saw him again. I tried to fight back this time. I said something—I-I can't remember what exactly, I just..."

"It's alright. Keep going, I'm listening."

Dipper inhaled. "Whatever I said... it made him mad. He threatened me. Said I'd never see the people I love again. I thought it was just a dream... I didn't think—"

"What happened next?" Ford asked quietly, keeping Dipper from succumbing to a full-blown panic attack.

"He choked me, and then I woke up... Please, please tell me we can fix this?"

Ford exhaled slowly. "I'll find a way. Let's assume this is just your brain playing tricks. Since we're not in a hospital, I can't use conventional methods—"

"What?! But—"

"Let me finish. Do you remember Project Mentem?"

Dipper nodded. 

"I upgraded it a bit during the early days of your hallucinations—when I was still worried we hadn't truly defeated Bill. I can use it to scan your mind, assess the damage, and figure out our next step."

After Dipper nodded again, they made their way to the lab, ready to put their plan into action. "I..." Ford turned to face Dipper. 

"So what? Can we fix it?" When silence followed, Dipper's panic surged. Where was Ford? Why wasn't he speaking? He hadn't left... right? "Great Uncle Ford? Please, talk to me... W-Where are you? Great Uncle—"

"I'm... sorry, Dipper. There's nothing I can do..."

W-What? That meant he might not see Ford—or anyone—ever again. No... This couldn't be it. "What? No. You're lying... Please tell me you're lying!" Ford sighed, watching helplessly as tears streamed down Dipper's face. The teen's eyes darted back and forth, trying desperately to find... to see his uncle. 

Suddenly, a sharp click echoed through the lab, and suddenly Dipper found himself surrounded by an endless field of daisies again. "Now, kid, I can make this your reality, or you can get me the damn flower."

Dipper looked up at the floating triangle, his heart racing as he caught his breath. "F-Fine. What do you even want it for—" Bill chuckled, his eye hovering just centimeters from Dipper's face. "Don't question me, kid. Just know that if you tell Sixer, I'll make sure he faces the consequences." In an instant, the world around him—and Bill—vanished, leaving Dipper alone.

"Brobro! You're awake!" "Dipper!" He blinked to see Mabel and Stan hovering above him, while Ford paced anxiously in the background. 

"Guys? Great Uncle Ford? What's going on?" Dipper glanced around, realizing he was on a table in the lab. The room was a total wreck—papers scattered across the floor, equipment smashed as if thrown around, and dishes piled high with stale food on a nearby desk. 

"Dipper! You're awake! Are you okay?!" Ford pushed past Stan and Mabel, his voice laced with worry. 

"Brobro... You've been asleep for two days," Mabel said, her eyes wide with worry. 

"W-What?" Dipper turned to Ford, who looked distressed. 

"I-I may have given you too large of a dosage or it may have been too potent or-" The man's grip tightened anxiously. 

"Calm down. I'm fine now..." Dipper offered a soft smile.

"Brobro! I was so worried! I'm so glad I'm not going to be an only child!" Mabel pulled Dipper into a tight hug.

"T-Thanks—"

"Don't ever do that again, idiot!" Mabel lightly punched Dipper on the shoulder with a smile. 

Dipper nodded. "I won't." 

After a few tests, everyone left the lab, and Ford, Dipper, and Mabel (who had insisted on joining) headed to Greasy's Diner for lunch. They settled into a booth and placed their orders, which arrived quickly. 

As they dug in, Dipper finally broke the silence, "So... what happened to me?"

"Well, you started having what looked like a panic attack in your sleep. Your heart rate shot up, and you kept mumbling about... Bill."

"Wait, what? Dipper, we defeated Bill two years ago! Why were you—" Ford interrupted Mabel. "Anyway, I got worried and took you down to the lab to check on you. By morning, you had calmed down, but you still didn't wake up. You kept calling my name—"

"I got so worried! I went to your room to ask for your help with the party, but you weren't there, and I—" Ford shot Mabel a glance for interrupting again. She chuckled nervously and offered an apology. 

"Right... Anyway, Stan and Mabel noticed you were missing, so I brought them to the lab. We stayed with you all day, and I couldn't figure out why you weren't waking—" 

"He didn't eat and started acting like a crazy person—" Ford shot her another glance. 

"I got worried. Then you finally woke up, and... Are you listening, Dipper?" 

Dipper blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts, "Uh... Y-Yeah. I heard you, it's just that um..." 

Mabel smiled gently. "It's okay, Dipper. All that matters is that you're here with us now." Ford nodded in agreement. 

"Thanks. You're the best sister and uncle in the world."

Chapter Text

The next day, Dipper woke up early. Bill had explained exactly how to get the flower; all that was left was for him to actually do it. What could the dream demon possibly want with that flower? Why couldn't he tell Ford? Would this help Bill to fully return? No, wait... Bill isn't real. None of this is real. Why was he going through with it? His mind felt so... scrambled! 

"Dipper? Where are you off to so early? Why didn't you tell me?" 

Dipper spun around, his hand still on the doorknob. Ford stood there with a cup of coffee, his expression curious. "Uh, I can't tell you," Dipper stammered. 

Ford's brows knitted together, "Why not? You can tell me anything, kiddo." He stepped closer, still wearing that calm, reassuring smile. "I just can't! He'll—"

"You mean Bill? Dipper, Bill's gone. He can't hurt me nor you. It's just your hallucinations, remember?" 

Dipper stared at his shoes. Boy, did they seem so interesting at the moment. "R-Right..."

"Now, look at me and tell me what you were going to do." 

Dipper met Ford's gaze, "I was told to get a green-leafed Sanare." 

Ford's eyes widened, "W-What? How do you even know about that..." 

"What's wrong?! Is it bad?" Dipper swallowed as Ford ran a hand through his hair, sighing. 

"You shouldn't even know about it. It was a very powerful flower but it went extinct decades before you were born..."

"He told me where to find one..." Dipper muttered, turning toward the door again. Was he just chasing shadows, or was Bill more than just a hallucination? 

"Alright, let's go." 

"What? But you said it yourself, Bill's gone! This is a wild goose chase!" Ford sighed, looking intently into Dipper's eyes. 

"Dipper, the existence of that flower shouldn't be known to you. I never documented it, and finding information would be nearly impossible. If you can really find one... it would mean Bill is alive, and we need to be ready. Otherwise, it shows we truly defeated him, and we can stop second-guessing ourselves." 

Dipper gulped. Ford was right. "Okay, let's go."

After two hours of trudging through the forest following Bill's directions, they discovered a single green-leafed Sanare. Ford stared in shock as Dipper declared they had found it. Dipper didn't know what the flower looked like other than it was green, but Ford recognized it instantly. "Dipper... you found it..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. 

"What? I didn't catch that..." 

"You found it, Dipper... you found it!" Dipper turned to see Ford's eyes wide, his chest barely moving as he stared at the flower, frozen in place. This could only mean one thing: Bill was alive. He wasn't dead. And Dipper had told Ford, even though Bill warned him not to...

"Great Uncle Ford, we need to go. Now." 

Ford nodded, and they both hurried back to the Shack. Once inside, they headed to the lab. "What happened? Why the rush?" 

Dipper stopped pacing to glance at Ford. "I... I messed up. I wasn't supposed to tell you and now we know he's real so-"

"Hey, calm down. It can't be too bad. We'll figure this out. It's clear he's at least trapped, but why can you see him while we can't?" Dipper fidgeted with his shirt's hem, more worried about what might happen to Ford than any those details. Ford spent the next few minutes trying to calm Dipper down, and eventually, they started brainstorming ideas and evaluating their situation. At lunchtime, Ford offered to grab food while Dipper pondered why he could see Bill.

"I'm back! Mabel and Stan made Stancakes this morning. Thought you'd prefer that over— Ah!" Dipper turned just in time to see Ford slip on some papers that were scattered on the floor. Ford dropped the plates, reaching for a shelf, only to make things worse. 

Dipper rushed over, "Great Uncle Ford? Are you okay?" He crouched to help him up. Ford clutched his eyes in pain as a sticky black liquid streamed down his cheeks. 

"Eww!" Dipper had to fight the urge to pull away and potentially throw Ford off balance. "What is that?!" He picked up the now-empty vial that had spilled on Ford, reading the label: 'Caeiry: To be tested.' Ford screamed in agony, the goo burning into his eyes. Dipper scrambled to help-wiping the fluid away, grabbing ice, shouting for help. He even ran to the Shack to get Soos.

By the time the ambulance arrived, Ford's screams had dulled, but his sight hadn't returned.

After a thorough examination, the doctors concluded that he was permanently blind. Dipper and Stan were heartbroken, and everyone felt the weight of the tragedy.

This was Dipper's fault. He shouldn't have told Ford. He should have obeyed. Now, Ford was blind because of him. It was all his fault...

Chapter Text

Ford had been in the hospital for several days, and Stan refused to leave his side. No matter how often the doctors tried, they couldn't convince him to go home—not even for a night.  Meanwhile, Dipper was consumed with finding a way to restore Ford's vision. He didn't sleep, barely drank any water, and ignored the meals Mabel brought him. This was his fault, and he was desperate to fix it. 

"Dipper... you need to sleep. Or at least eat?" Mabel urged, holding up a plate. 

"Not now, Mabel." 

She watched as Dipper glided across the floor in a rolling chair to grab some strange ingredient. "Please, Dipper! You need to—" 

"Leave me alone, Mabel. I'm trying to focus." Dipper carefully added two drops of the liquid from a dropper. 

"Dipper! He's already blind! You can't sacrifice your health over this! I miss him too, but you're being irrational!" Dipper paused at Mabel's sudden outburst. 

"How dare you?! Do you even understand what it's like to be unable to see the people you love?! To see nothing at all?! It's terrifying! And Great Uncle Ford is going through that because of me!" He turned to glare at Mabel, his face twisted with raw anger. Though it wasn't directed specifically at her, it was a look that frightened her.

"Dipper... it's not your fault—" "YES, IT IS!" Dipper stepped closer, bending down slightly to meet her gaze. "Get out." 

"B-But Dipper—" His eyes flickered a bright yellow for just a moment... or was that just Mabel's imagination? Dipper normally had brown eyes. 

"I SAID GET OUT!" Mabel nodded fearfully and hurried into the elevator. Why was Dipper acting so strangely? She wiped her cheeks. Was she crying?

Dipper sighed as he watched Mabel disappear into the elevator. She just didn't understand... He needed to maximize every moment he had. He had to find a way to cure Ford... to amend his mistake. Of course, Mabel wouldn't get it; she was convinced they had defeated Bill, so to her, Dipper was overreacting. Tears streamed down Dipper's face as he stared at the papers and flask before him. He knew this might not work, but he had to try. 

Hours passed, and eventually, he finished. He clutched the completed vial tightly and headed upstairs, hoping to find Mabel and apologize. He hadn't meant to yell. He just... snapped. 

As he reached the stairs, he saw Mabel coming down in a glittery dress, her hair neatly styled, a purse slung over her shoulder. "Oh! Dipper! I was just coming to get you. I'm sorry about earlier; I know this is hard for you but—" "Why are you all dressed up?" Dipper interrupted, his voice tight. The date hit him like a punch. The reunion party. She couldn't possibly still be holding it after what happened to Ford...

"For the party, of course! It should take everyone's mind off—" 

"You're still having it?!" His voice cracked. 

"Yes, of course." 

Dipper looked into her eyes. "How could you? How could you celebrate at a time like this?!" 

"I just wanted to—" But Dipper didn't wait for an explanation. He turned and stormed out. He couldn't believe her. How could she be so insensitive? Their uncle was blind and she throws a party?! Dipper slammed the front door behind him and rushed to the hospital, gripping the vial of liquid tightly as he ran.

"Great Uncle Ford!" Dipper burst into the room, startling both Ford and Stan. 

"Dipper—" 

"Try this." Dipper gently applied the liquid over Ford's eyes. "What are you doing, kid?" Stan stood up to intervene, but it was too late. 

"Dipper? What is this? It smells sweet but feels like water..." Ford lightly touched the liquid on his face. 

"Don't worry, Uncle. I just hope it works. It has to work." Dipper clutched Ford's hand, trying to steady his breathing after all the running. 

"What? What are you talking about?" Stan reached out to Dipper, confused by his exhaustion and Ford's calm demeanor. 

"It didn't work..." Dipper's hopeful smile vanished. "It didn't work..." He repeated softly. "I'm so sorry. I failed..." 

Ford smiled gently. "It's alright, Dipper. It's okay; I'll be home soon." He tightened his grip on Dipper's hand, trying to comfort him. 

"It's okay... it's okay." Dipper murmured. 

"Kid..." Stan placed a hand on Dipper's shoulder. 

Dipper looked up, forcing a wide smile, though his eyes were dull. "It's okay, Grunkle Stan. I'll just keep trying until I figure it out!" He chuckled softly. "I'll figure it out. I have weeks... months even. I will find a cure." 

Stan gave the boy a concerned look. What could he say? "Dipper... don't put so much pressure on yourself. It's alright." 

Dipper glanced back at Ford, his smile softening. "You're right. Everything will be okay." He hugged Ford before leaving the room, determined to keep trying.

The next day, Ford returned to the Mystery Shack with Stan. Dipper offered Ford his room since it was simple and on the ground floor, making it easier for Ford to navigate while Dipper attended to him. Dipper still denied his body of proper sleep but he ate with Ford whenever he brought food for the man. When Dipper wasn't with Ford, he was in the lab. After multiple failed attempts, his body was finally too exhausted to work with only 2 to 3 hours of sleep and Stan managed to convince him to rest properly.

However, once he regained his energy, Dipper dove back into searching for a cure for Ford. He felt so useless... This was his fault. All because he couldn't keep his damn mouth shut about— 

The flower! Ford had said it was powerful... maybe if Dipper could figure out what it could do and how to unlock its power, he could heal Ford! 

"Good job, Pinetree. But how will you do that?" Dipper jumped at the voice and turned to see Bill sitting on Ford's desk—the desk he had used for nearly two weeks.

"Why are you here?!" Dipper demanded. 

Bill chuckled, floating closer, "Do you want clues or not?" 

Dipper gulped, taking a step back, "What do you want in return? I'm not making a deal with-" 

"I don't want a deal." Dipper studied Bill closely, sensing there was a catch. 

"No tricks. Promise." Bill crossed his fingers behind his back. 

"I don't trust you... I'll figure this out on my own." Dipper narrowed his eyes at the dream demon. 

"Very well. But if you change your mind... I'm just a shout away! Bye, kid!" Dipper exhaled deeply, only now realizing that he had been holding his breath. Now... where could he find information about this? It was ancient... maybe he could start with the gnomes?

Chapter Text

The next morning, Dipper slept late. His body, drained and aching, refused to move until a loud crash jolted him up. "H-Huh?!" He looked around but saw nothing. Groaning, he recognized a familiar laughter. "Leave me alone, Bill..." He sighed and sank back down, trying to drift off again. 

"Aww. I thought you wanted to find that cure for Six—" "Fiddlesticks! The cure!" Dipper scrambled up from the chair, sending papers flying as he rifled through his notes. 

"Sheesh, kid. No thank you?" Ignoring the floating triangle, Dipper grabbed his pre-packed bag and a few pages of notes before rushing out, leaving a confused Mabel and Stan behind.

It took him three hours, two near-death encounters with aggressive kill billies, and a whole lot of luck, but Dipper finally found the flower again. He sighed in relief and carefully plucked it, sealing it in a makeshift glass container to preserve it. Now, he just needed to find Jeff and hope it could heal Ford. It took some time, but eventually, Dipper found Jeff—or rather, Jeff found him. Dipper had saved him from being trampled by a herd of reindeer, and afterward, they were able to sit down and talk. "Thanks for saving my butt back there! What are you doing out here? Is Mabel with you?!" Jeff suddenly brightened as he looked around hopefully.

"No, she's back at the Shack. Jeff, I need your help." 

The gnome looked up at Dipper, "With what?" 

Dipper took the flower out of his bag to show Jeff. "Whoa! A green-leafed Sanare?! Where'd you find this?! These are supposed to be extinct! " Dipper opened his mouth to answer when he spotted Bill floating ominously behind Jeff, glaring at him. His mouth went dry. "So? Dipper?"

"Oh! I... uh... stumbled upon it in a clearing. Great Uncle Ford recognized it." 

Jeff hummed in surprise. "You're so lucky! I'll tell you everything I know... if you set me up on a date—" 

Dipper flatly interrupted, "No way." 

Jeff crossed his arms and turned away, "Then we're done here." He hopped down from the tree stump he'd been standing on and started to walk off, clearly expecting Dipper to give in to his request.

"Wait!" Dipper called after him. "I have a different proposal." 

Jeff stopped and turned back. "What is it?" 

"What if I help you find another queen in return?" Dipper smiled. 

"Absolutely not!" 

The hopeful smile faded, "Please, I really need that information. It's important. I-" 

"Well, it's clearly not important enough." Jeff sniffed, turning his back again. 

Dipper scoffed, his anger rising, "I just saved your life, Jeff! The least you could do is tell me about the damn flower!" Without thinking, he grabbed Jeff by the collar and lifted him up. The gnome let out a strangled squeak as he dangled in the air. 

"F-Fine! I'll talk! I'm sorry!" the gnome gasped, clutching Dipper's hand. 

Realizing what he was doing, Dipper's eyes widened and he quickly set Jeff down. "I'm... sorry. Just tell me what you know. Please." 

Jeff nodded, still a bit shaken up. "It was used to increase the potency of medicines. Really powerful stuff. But it got overused and eventually went extinct. That's all I know. I swear!" 

Dipper nodded and handed Jeff a small jar of jam he had packed earlier. It was originally meant as a bribe, but he'd forgotten about it until now. "Thanks, Jeff."

By the time Dipper got back to the Shack, night had already fallen. He exhausted and disappointed after finding barely any new information about the flower. He made his way to his room, where he found Ford peacefully asleep on the bed, an empty bowl beside him on the floor. Dipper smiled softly and tucked him in under the covers before going to the kitchen. He washed the bowl and filled a cup with water. Stan had probably brought food to Ford while Dipper was out. It was good that someone was taking care of Ford while he couldn't. 

Despite Ford's independence and his ability to navigate the Shack with just his memory and the stick Stan got him, both Stan and Dipper still babied him. They constantly wanted to be with him, bringing him food even though he could get it himself, and making sure the path was clear whenever he walked. Mabel would sometimes visit when she returned from Pacifica's house or from hanging out with Candy and Grenda, but rarely stuck around for long. Dipper was usually with with Ford when she got home, and she couldn't bear to see her brother disregarding his own health.

Back in the room, Dipper placed the water on the desk, then pulled the chair up beside the bed. Sitting down, he glanced at Ford's sleeping face. "I think I might be onto something this time... Soon I'll—" Dipper's brows furrowed as he noticed a light gray tint under Ford's left eye. "W-What?" He reached out to wipe it away but realized it was under the skin. What could it be? Ford's eyes had turned gray after the incident. The doctors said the substance had dyed his iris by penetrating the sclera—could this be related? Did it also dye his skin? The gray pigment covered almost a quarter of Ford's face but was barely noticeable, blending in slightly with his skin.

Dipper carefully uncovered Ford and looked at his hands; they were discoloured too, from the fingertips to just above the wrists. That didn't make sense—the Caeiry had only made contact with his palms... How did— "It's spreading, kid."

"Ah!" Dipper jumped at the sudden voice. Blasted dream demon. 

"Sheesh. I try to help you and this is what I get?" Dipper glared at Bill, who was perched on Ford's chest. 

"What do you think you're doing? I don't want your help!" 

Bill chuckled, "Pinetree, Pinetree, Pinetree... When will you learn?" He sighed as Dipper narrowed his eyes. "You're in no position to be calling the shots, kid. This is your fault after all." 

Dipper looked away, jaw tight. He hated to admit it, but... Bill was right. It was his fault.

"Now, do you want the information or not? Because after this, I won't offer it without a price." Bill twirled his hat lazily on his finger.

Dipper hesitated. Could he really trust him? Of course not... But he needs to know what's happening to Ford and Bill is the only one that can tell him that....

"Tick tock, kid," Bill taunted, pressing Dipper to make a decision. "You've got three seconds~ Three, two, o—" 

"O-Okay! Fine!" Dipper blurted.

Chapter Text

"Great! Now, listen closely." Dipper nodded, surprised that Bill seemed ready to help without demanding a deal. 

"The fluid responsible for all this is lethal. It behaves like a poison, seeping through the skin without burning, but human eyes are far more sensitive, which is why it blinded Sixer." Bill paused, glancing at Dipper, who was listening intently, his mind almost blank to focus on Bill's words. For some reason, this made Bill feel a sense of pride. 

"Anyway, it gradually moves beneath the skin until it reaches the blood vessels. Once it does, it travels to the heart and gets pumped throughout the body. That's when the spreading starts. As it reaches different parts, it multiplies, acting like a parasite by extracting nutrients from the organs and bloodstream until the person dies."

Dipper looked at Ford, sleeping beneath Bill. If Bill was telling the truth, Ford was likely in the multiplying stage... How long would it take before—

"From what I can tell, about 97 hours." Dipper's immediately stood up and hurried to the lab, with Bill trailing behind. 

"You're not leaving?" Dipper looked at the hovering triangle. Bill chuckled, perching on a nearby shelf. Of course, the teen wouldn't get an answer. Dipper needed to learn more about that flower. Jeff had mentioned it was used to create medicines before going extinct, and it clearly wasn't just an herb, since Bill wanted it. Wait—Bill wanted it... "Aren't you going to prohibit me from using this?" Dipper lifted the flower slightly. 

"Nah. Go for it, kid. I got everything I needed from it." 

Dipper raised a brow, "Okay. Thanks..."

After a few hours, morning arrived, and Mabel came down to the lab with a plate of food. "Hey brobro. Do you mind if I have breakfast down here today?" 

Dipper hummed without looking up. "Oh! Shooting Star is joining the party now?" Bill watched Mabel as she took a seat. She slowly ate while observing Dipper mix substances and mumble to himself.

"Why are you staring? Does it matter?" Dipper mumble to Bill. 

"Of course, Pinetree. I forbid you from letting her help. You have to do this alone." Dipper froze. Forbid? Would Bill harm her if she helped? 

"Brobro? Is it supposed to overflow like that?" Mabel's voice was soft and hesitant- trying not to annoy him... again. 

"H-Huh? Oh! Um... No. Thank you." Dipper snapped out of his daze and began to clean up the yellow liquid. He washed the apparatus and started recreating the mixture. He was still trying to create a cure from scratch, having studied the chemical makeup of the residue of Caeiry. He wanted to reverse its effects or at least prevent further damage to Ford. To achieve this, he had to develop a new chemical that was fundamentally opposed to the Caeiry in order to neutralize it. Dipper didn't want to rely solely on the Sanare; what if he wasted all his time on the flower and it didn't actually help? He decided he'd attempt to create a cure from scratch while also figuring out how to use the flower. One of the methods had to work, and he had less than four days to maximize his efforts.

Around noon, Mabel returned with lunch for Dipper. However the brunet was busy mumbling to himself in frustration as he placed another flask next to several others. It was clear he was falling apart, but what could Mabel do? Dipper rejected her help; he refused to eat or leave the lab and he listened to neither her nor Stan. It hurted to see him like this.

"Dipper? I brought lunch..." Mabel offered a small smile, but Dipper was too busy to notice. 

"Yeah, thanks. Just put it down somewhere; I'll eat it later." Mabel set the plate on a nearby table and approached him. 

"Brobro... You're still overworking yourself. Maybe I can he—" 

"NO!" Mabel flinched at his loud rejection. "I'm sorry, Mabel... I just..." Dipper turned to face her, unsure of how to explain. "I'd rather do this myself. You can't help me; you don't know anything about science. In fact, you hate it.."

Why was Dipper being so stubborn? So what if she didn't know all the fancy science gibberish? She could still help! Besides, wouldn't it be quicker to have more people working toward a 'cure' for Ford? What was his problem? It didn't make sense. Logic was his thing, not hers. Mabel sighed, deciding not to argue. Dipper had been snappy lately—probably from unnecessarily pressuring and overworking himself. Still, she didn't want to provoke him. "Alright, brobro. Please get some sleep tonight and eat the food I brought." 

Dipper nodded, turning back to the conical flask containing an orange liquid. "Well... I'll see you tomorrow, I guess." Mabel's shoulders slumped when he didn't respond. "I love you," she whispered, knowing he was too focused to hear. With one last glance at her stressed twin, she left the lab.

That night, Dipper didn't sleep nor eat. He spent the next few days tirelessly working on both the Sanare and a homemade cure. He figured out a mixture that could slow the spread of the Caeiry, but it only bought him a little more time. Ford's body was already fighting it since it was a foreign substance. At best, it gave Dipper an extra day.

He wasn't able to find much on the Sanare, given that many variations had existed in the past — all of which had gone extinct decades ago. The flower was also only native to Gravity Falls, so books offered little to no information. At first Dipper felt frustrated, but he didn't have the luxury to spiral. Time was running out.

After some threats and negotiations, the forest creatures gave him enough information for him to learn how to create an elixir that could help erase Caeiry molecules. The issue was that the elixir couldn't work fast enough to counter the rapid multiplication of the Caeiry.

Dipper theorized that if he could strengthen his mixture to temporarily stop the Caeiry from multiplying, the elixir should be able to work. But he was down to his last day. Combining the elixir with his improved mixture proved challenging, as they were extremely immiscible, and normal methods weren't working.

On the morning of his final day, he went out to gather ingredients in bulk to create a concentrated version of his mixture. He returned wounded—some ingredients were in dangerous areas of the forest —but he didn't care. The deadline was so close and he was yet to decipher a way to mix the elixir and the improved mixture. He spent the afternoon trying to find a solution. Unfortunately, he didn't succeed. If only he had more time.

Dipper groaned in frustration. Why couldn't he have kept his damn mouth shut?! Now Ford was going to... No! He still had about an hour left... He just needed to keep trying. He would fix this! He had to!

"Brobro!" Mabel rushed in, hugging him. "What?!" Mabel tensed, unused to seeing Dipper so worn out and stressed. Why was he always shouting at her?! Couldn't he calm down? He was acting like the world was ending because Ford was blind. He was overreacting... She took a deep breath to steady herself, a fresh smile spreading across her lips. "I just missed you! You changed the lab's code, but I figured it out! It was my birthday, and—"

"I'm sorry, but stop bothering me, Mabel. I need to focus." Dipper turned back to his desk, tiredly scanning his notes to remind himself what he had just added to the flask. Mabel stared in disbelief. "You're sorry? Stop bothering you?! Do you hear yourself?! I'm your sister! I care about you, and you're pushing me away over some... some delusion! So what if Grunkle Ford is blind now?! You're not the only one suffering—" "Enough, Mabel..." Dipper's voice was low as he concentrated.

"No! I've put up with you and your nonsense long enough! You're not eating, nor sleeping! You're always cooped up in the lab and you haven't asked how my day was or what I'm going through! It's not all about you! This self-pity isn't—"  

"I said enough, Mabel..."

"—going to get you anywhere! You're acting like Grunkle Ford is dying! He's just blind! You should be there keeping him company through this tough time instead of killing yours—" 

"SHUT UP!"

Mabel's eyes widened as she saw the anger in Dipper's gaze. She knew previously his anger wasn't directed at her, but this time was different. It made her angry. How dare he? "Don't raise your voice at me. I'm telling you the truth! You need to leave this lab! You're destroying yourself! I can't let you—" 

"Let me?! LET ME?! You don't get to 'let me' do anything! Just stop with the damn charades!" Mabel glared at him. What was wrong with him? How could he say something so false? She was his twin, his other half! "You don't need to be so damn desperate for attention all the time! Ford is the one who's blind, not you! So stop making it all about you and take care of y—" 

"Get out." Dipper pointed to the the elevator, his glare sharp. He wasn't going to have this conversation. Not now.

Mabel huffed in annoyance. "Tsk...Whatever. I don't want to be around you right now anyway." She turned on her heel and stormed away. Stupid arguments. Stupid blindness. Stupid Dipper.

"Well, well, well, Pinetree. Thirty minutes remaining. Tick tock." Bill chuckled as he hovered above Dipper's shoulder. "Why are you here, Bill?" Bill laughed again. "So cold, Pinetree~ I'm here to help... for a price, of course." Dipper clenched his fists. There was no way he would trust that dream demon. 

"Are you sure? After all, Sixer doesn't look so well, and though the doctors claim this is just a side effect, we both know that's not true~" A picture frame appeared in Dipper's hands, showing Ford... his skin was grey, and he was sleeping. He had been sleeping a lot lately. The doctors said it was how some people adjusted to drastic changes such as losing one's sight. Dipper might have known better, but Stan and Mabel trusted those unqualified idiots without a second thought.

Tears filled Dipper's eyes as he gazed at the picture, brushing his fingers over the glass. "So, Pinetree? What will it be?" His voice dripped with smugness. The boy has to agree- whether he wants to or not. "Fine... but this better not be a trick!" 

Bill groaned, "Yeah, yeah. I just need a deal anyways." 

Dipper raised an eyebrow. A deal? What did that mean? Any deal would do? "Earth to Pinetree!" Dipper glanced down at his messy desk. He didn't have a choice. If he wanted to save Ford, he had to make a deal. What else could he do? 

"I want you to combine these two liquids together." Bill looked at the flasks Dipper held up.

 "Very well. It's impressive such a useless little pawn managed all this in less than a week." Bill floated over to the desk, reclining lazily as he stared at the ceiling. 

Dipper narrowed his eyes at the egotistical bastard. "In exchange, I'll... uh..." At that moment, Dipper realized he had nothing to offer. What could Bill possibly want?

Bill rolled his eyes at the long pause. "How about this: I add a little something more to the cure." 

Dipper's eyes widened in shock. "W-What? No way!" That dream demon was not to be trusted! What if he just ends up hurting Ford more? 'A little something more' could be anything! That's an obvious loophole. Was Bill trying to- 

"Let me explain." Bill replied, his gaze dull. Pinetree sure does think a lot. "I'll mix them together as you wish. However, I'll also add something special which will erase all of Ford's memories from the day the Caeiry took effect to present... Think of it as a side effect of the medication," Bill slowly flew around Dipper, encircling him as he spoke, "After all, it's a fair trade."

"How is that fair?!" The air suddenly felt thick, fear creeping into Dipper's chest. 

 "How? " Bill repeated as he laughed cynically, "Because he wasn't suppose to know in the first place Pinetree! Remember if it wasn't for your disobedience, none of this would've happened." 

Dipper swallowed hard and looked down in shame. Bill had a point... "Fine. But that's the only condition. No tricks, no loophole exploitations, and no twisting the agreement!"

Bill stopped in front of the brunet and extended his hand, his eye glimmering in delight. "Deal?" 

The familiar blue flames enveloped Dipper's hand, "...Deal."

Chapter Text

Bill hovered beside Dipper as he fed the liquid to Ford. The man was asleep so Dipper had to pour it down his throat. How would he know if it worked? What if it didn't? "Bill?" The psychopath turned to look at the brunet.
Maybe he shouldn't seek consolation from a dream demon... "Nevermind..." Dipper laid beside Ford and wrapped his arms around him. In only a few minutes Dipper succumbed to a deep sleep. He hadn't slept in days and though he would not admit it, his body was beyond exhausted. 

The next day Dipper was woken by a groan. His eyes shot open as he realized that it came from the man on the bed. Ford was awake! It worked! Without realizing it, joyous tears streamed down Dipper's face as he stared at the older male. The older man weakly raised his hand to Dipper's face and wiped the tears. "Why are you crying?" Ford asked. "Y-You... had an accident in the lab a few weeks ago that caused you to lose your sight." Dipper sniffled as he explained. 

"Ah... but I can see now? And why don't I remember this?" The brunet smiled. "I uh... I figured something out but it erased your memories in the process. I'll explain in details later." Ford frown as he noticed the dark circles beneath Dipper's eyes. "Have you been taking care of yourself?" There was no response other than soft sniffles and the shuffle of the wind through the opened window. "You haven't... Why don't we go tell Stanley the good news? I bet he was worried sick." The brunet nodded and stood up to help Ford out of the bed. The man was cured but his body was still recovering. He was weak and his skin was slowly changing back to the correct complexion. The two carefully made their way to the kitchen. Dipper supported most of Ford's weight and kept an arm around the older man's side as they walked.

Mabel and Stan were making Stancakes together. "Morning you two." They both turned to see Ford smiling softly as he leaned on Dipper. "O-Oh! Grunkle Ford! Dipper allowed you out of the room? Where's your stick? I'll go get it!" Mabel said as she hurriedly washed her hands and turned to rush off. "Wait, Mabel... I don't need it. Dipper found a cure for my blindness." This time Stanley looked up in shock. "He actually did it?" The younger brunet, who had been silently holding Ford up, glance up at Stan. What was that supposed to mean? 'Actually did it'? Did they not believe in him at all? No... no, he's overthinking it. Stan probably didn't mean it like that. 

"Right Dipper?" The teen snapped back to reality. All three of them stared at him expectantly. "Uh... yes?" What were they talking about? What did he agree to? "Then it's settled! Let's celebrate by going on an adventure like old times!" Mabel cheered. "That is, after your brother gets some more sleep and eats breakfast." Stan turned back to the stove. 

After a few hours of Stan taking care of Dipper, the four set out on an 'adventure' in the forest. As they walked through the damped soil and clustered branches, Mabel ranted about the reunion party and the different outings she had gone on over the past few weeks. It irritated Dipper that she could've been so carefree while Ford was literally dying but he remained quiet. Ford listened intently to the teenage girl while Stanley stayed back with Dipper to ensure they weren't ambushed by some wild animal.

Their adventure was relatively uneventful. They spotted a few cute animals, some poisonous berries —luckily Ford recognized them before Mabel ate one — and finally found a serene lake to rest at before returning to the Shack for dinner.

Mabel shivered from slipping into the lake. Ford leaned exhaustedly against his brother. Stan supported Ford and helped him stay awake. Dipper, having given his jacket to Mabel, trailed behind, feeling a little out of place. 

Dipper idly kicked a stone off the trail as they passed a clearing. He froze.  There, in the center of the clearing stood an outstretched hand. His heart raced as he realized that his family was unaware that he stopped. He glanced at the statue again... Bill. "You called?" Bill's voice broke through the silence, causing Dipper to jump back. He tightly clutched his chest in fright. "Jeez... I didn't mean to call yo-"

"Ah... You found my other link to this world. Dipper frowned, trying to grasp what he meant. "You should catch up with your family. You wouldn't want Ford to get suspicious right~?" Bill reminded in a sing-song manner. Dipper took one last wary glance at the statue before sprinting to catch up with his family.  Bill watched him go with an eerily stare before vanishing from sight.

Chapter Text

For the next few days, Stan insisted that Ford rested properly so he can fully recover and that Dipper should stay out of the lab in the meantime. When those few days were over, the four - Mabel, Stan, Ford, and Dipper - sat down together for a meal at the Greasy's Diner. Mabel and Stan were filling Ford in on everything that happened within the past few weeks. Dipper, on the other hand, silently ate with Bill perched on his shoulder. He couldn't tell the triangle to leave as that would draw attention to himself and Bill ignored his thoughts.

"Dipper? Are you alright?" Mabel paused as Ford interrupted her. "Yes Great Uncle Ford. I'm okay." The brunet replied, forcing a smile. "... Why don't you tell us how you made that cure?" Stan chimed in, awkwardly trying to lighten the sudden tenseness. "Nothing crazy, standard procedure." Dipper replied dryly. "Standard?" Mabel laughed, "That's stupid talk! You were stressing out the entire time and constantly making new fancy solutions! Plus you were suppppperrrr grumpy the whole time. And-" "Stop it...""- you were always talking to-" "I said stop it!" Dipper stood up abruptly. "I'm not hungry. I'm going back to the shack." In a swift turn, he left the diner.

"Huh? What's his problem?" Mabel rolled her eyes. "Mabel, sweetie... He probably just doesn't want to talk about it..." Stan glanced at his brother. "I'll uh... I'll talk with him later." Ford smiled softly. "How about we give him some space and you two tell me about how Dipper was while I was... blind?"

"Well... He was constantly losing sleep and rarely eating. I tried convincing him to take care of himself but he was more stubborn than you. He blamed himself for what happened but it really wasn't his fault." Stan stated in a low tone.

"Yeah! And he was being so mean! He didn't attend the reunion party I planned even though I was trying to lift everyone's mood! Plus he yelled at me so many times for no reason!" Mabel huffed.

Ford frowned. That didn't sound like Dipper at all... Dipper would never intentionally be mean to Mabel continually. Maybe the sleep and starvation took a toll on his mind? Or maybe Ford's situation affected him more than he understood?

"He was totally overreacting though! Right Grunkle Ford?" Mabel pressed. "Uh huh... Sure." Ford replied absentmindedly - he was still wondering about Dipper supposedly strange behaviour. Stan looked at Ford in confusion. Why would he agree to that? Sure, Dipper shouldn't have yelled at Mabel but Dipper had been key in helping Ford; without him, Ford would still be blind...

"See Pinetree? I told you~ They don't care." Dipper stared from a nearby window, tears streaming down his face. How could Mabel say that? How could Ford agree? Dipper sacrificed so much for them... BOTH of them and in exchange they slander him behind his back?! It wasn't fair... It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair! IT WASN'T FAIR!

"Shut up Bill." Dipper huffed, leaving before he could hear Stan interjecting or Ford zoning back in.

"Aw~ Come on Pinetree. Why don't you let me help you? I can make it all go away~" Dipper's tears stained the sidewalk beneath him as he slowly walked to the Shack. "Just... go away Bill." Dipper's voice cracked in desperation. Bill stopped, watching as Dipper continued to walk ahead. Maybe he shouldn't press right now... The teen was fragile right now. It's the perfect opportunity.. But...

Dipper sniffled, wiping his tears with his palm so he could see where he was going.

...There will be other times when he's upset... Bill vanished, leaving the brunet to his own thoughts.

When Dipper finally arrived at the Shack, he headed straight to his room. He collapsed onto the mattress, burying his face in the pillow. By then his tears had stopped but his eyes were still red and puffy.

Why couldn't anyone just appreciate him for once? Couldn't they see the struggles he faces for them?! Why couldn't they just... love him? Was he really that awful? That much of a burden? It had to be the hallucinations, wasn't it?! Or maybe his mental issues? His ego? What was it?! What is it that drives the people he cares about to hate him?! Why...? Fresh tears streamed down his cheeks, soaking the pillow beneath him.

That night, Dipper laid in bed, crying himself to sleep. No one came to check on him after they returned from the diner.

Chapter Text

Dipper slowly started distancing himself from his family and ignoring the bundle of mixed emotions they triggered. Of course Mabel recognized that Dipper was keeping to himself- constantly occupying himself with an experiment or a book... or any sort of excuse to be by himself, but she didn't draw much attention to it since he probably just needed some space after what happened with Ford. After Stan had talked to her about what she had said at the Diner, she pondered on Dipper's behavior for a bit. That's when she realized that Stan was right- Dipper wasn't trying to be mean, he was probably just stressed and a bit too harsh on himself so he lashed out. 

In a few days, Mabel would be leaving Gravity Falls. As usual, they were holding a grand party for the twins birthday which would also count as her farewell party. Dipper was currently in a cave breaking off a chuck of crystal to complete Mabel's gift. Mabel may have been insensitive but she had a good heart. Above that, she was his sister. 

"Hello Pinetree!" Bill's voice echoed causing Dipper to flinch. "What do you want Bill? Where even are you?" He looked around, not seeing the devious triangle anywhere. "I don't have time for your games Bill." Dipper picked up the piece of the crystal that he chiseled off from a larger chunk of crystals and place it in his bag.

"Come now Pinetree. Come here." Dipper ignored the calling as he picked up his bag and turned to the entrance of the cave. "I said to come here! Do not make me resort to another punishment." Dipper froze, the memories of Ford's previous situation flooding his mind. "F-Fine. Fine, I'm coming." He turns around to follow the voice deeper into the cave system. 

He kept walking for a while until he found the heart of the crystal cave. "...Bill?" There was no response so he ventured deeper into the cave. The heart of the cave was almost completely covered in huge chucks of multi-colored crystals. He ducked and squeezed between the shards, getting a few cuts along the way. "Bill?!" Dipper shouted. If he kept walking through this maze of crystals he'll get lost. 

"Bill!" Dipper shouted again, hoping for a response. Luckily for him the triangle appeared. "Hello Pinetree! It's good to see you actually have ears." The triangle floated beside Dipper. "This way." He floated between a few crystals with Dipper following closely behind. "Where are we going Bill?" 

"Don't question me... But I'm showing you something to cheer you up. You've been so sulky of recent that your mindscape is a mess." Dipper nodded and continued to follow Bill.

After a few more minutes, the two arrive at a huge crystal that was being surrounded by a colourful body of water. "Let's go drowning!" 

"W-Wha-" Dipper was unable to finish his question before being pushed into the lake. When he finally open his eyes, he found himself staring at nothing. Everything was so dark that he couldn't see. "This way Pinetree!" There was a small flash of yellow and Dipper dove farther into the darkness. 

After a while, he could no longer see the surface of the lake... Why was a lake even this deep?! Finally, he was able to catch up to Bill. Beside him was a crystal tablet with engraved symbols. "Pick it up, Pinetree." 

Dipper nodded. The tablet was about the size of his forearm. He couldn't see the engravements in the dark and he was beginning to run out of oxygen so he began to swim up.

A few bubbles left Dipper's mouth as he coughed. He was almost at surface but his vision was blurring and his lungs felt consumed by fire. Damn it... just a bit further... Dipper sped up his movements, trying his best not to pass out. Despite his efforts, a few seconds later his vision was consumed by darkness and his body start to sink. Bill rolled his eye. Useless meat sack. Oh well... He does need him alive for now.

A loud cough echoed through the cave as Dipper regurgitated the colorful water filling his stomach and lungs. Bill sat on a nearby crystal watching in silence. The brunette had woken up with a strangled gasp after a few chest compressions. In Bill's hands was the crystal tablet - the reason Dipper almost died in the first place. 

"What are you-" Dipper coughed again as he sat up, "-going to do with that?" Bill laughed, the sound disturbing and sending shivers up Dipper's spine. "Nothing. You, on the other hand, will be keeping it safe... and away from Ford. He is NOT to find out about this. Last time I helped you fix your mess, next time I will not. Understood? "Dipper gulped and nodded. 

Bill handed the tablet back to Dipper and helped him find his way out of the cave. "...Thank you..."

"What for?" Bill turned to look at the brunet. 

"...Not letting me drown." Dipper muttered beneath his breath. Why would Bill save him? And what was the tablet about? Bill must need him alive for something then... right? But what? And earlier, when he made the deal to save Ford, Bill mentioned that any deal would've been sufficient so clearly he was planning something. Unless, that was to make him think like this... What if all of this is to throw Dipper off? Ugh. Whatever... His head hurts.

Bill hum, amused by the stream of thoughts. The boy was an overthinking, just like Sixer... That can work against him... or in his favor. For the sake of his plans, let's hope it's the latter. 

"Let's get back to the Shack. You... humans are weak so you don't want to be out too late or you get sick." Dipper nodded. Did Bill care or was this simply a part of some ploy? Whatever the reason, the triangle was right.

.

.

.

"Brobro! Why are you soaked?!" Mabel rushed to his side, fussing over him as Stan left to get a towel. "I fell into a lake." It wasn't necessarily a lie, he did technically fall. Dipper silently dried his hair after changing clothes. Meanwhile Mabel paced his room fussing over his 'carelessness'. He was right to hide the tablet in the forest before he came in. He'll go get it later... or maybe it would be best to leave it so Ford or Mabel can't find it in his room...

Chapter Text

"Happy Birthday, Mabel..." Dipper grinned, his smile brighter than usual as he held up her gift. It was a locket scrapbook. It had a purple cover that was lined with crystals, and her name was embedded in shimmering gems in the center. A light pink strap with a lock and a crystal key adorned the cover. The pages inside were neatly stitched, and a soft pink ribbon marked the pages. On the side, there was a pen holder holding a black glittery pen. He'd worked hard to make it similar to her old one, but with his own personal touch.

Mabel smiled as she held the book in her hands. "Oh my gosh! Thank you!" She pulled Dipper into a slightly tight hug. "I got you something too!" A small blue box was shoved into Dipper's hands. Dipper raised a brow. Mabel wasn't one to get something so small. She'd usually go all out into making something huge like a bright sweater or- "Go on! Open it!" The boy was broken from his thoughts as Mabel nudged him excitedly. He hummed and lifted the cover off the box. "Oh- Um... Wow... It's... lovely." He smiled. It was a framed picture of Dipper and Mabel smiling together. His smile was soft, hers was huge and cheerful. He ran his finger over the rough, homemade frame that was a mixture of both of the twins' aesthetics.

"I know I haven't been the most... understanding the last few weeks. I... I'm sorry, I was so focused on your well-being that I neglected what you really needed: support." Mabel's smile faltered and Dipper acted without thinking. He pulled the girl into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry too. I took my frustration out on you. We may not always agree on the same things, and we may fight at times but you're the best sister I could ever ask for."

Mabel sniffled as she buried her face into Dipper's shoulder. "Come on, let's get ready for the party. Everyone will be there..." Mabel nodded and pulled away. "See you soon brobro!" Mabel rushed upstairs to get dressed. The party was being held right outside of the Mystery Shack. Dipper hummed and also decided to get ready.

Around 5:00 p.m. that afternoon, Mabel and Pacifica were already outside greeting guests as they arrived. Ford was finishing up in his lab so he can join her in a few minutes while Stan and Soos were carrying the last of the food outside. Dipper, however, was still in his room entertaining a certain triangle.

"Aw~ Going so soon Pinetree? I thought we were having fun!" Bill spun around Dipper and laughed. Dipper groaned as he pulled on his hat. "Alright, alright. You can go, but can I come with?" Dipper rolled his eyes. "Like I have a choice." Bill laughed, the brunet wasn't wrong. Dipper never had a choice, and he never will.

"Brobro! There you are! I was starting to think you were going to ditch." Mabel joked as she spotted Dipper walking out of the Mystery Shack. The boy looked a bit annoyed at something at first but then he looked up and smiled. "Sorry I took so long." Dipper walked over to Mabel and Pacifica. He gave Pacifica a quick greeting and the blonde returned it.

Other than Bill's silent presence on his shoulder, the party went smoothly. Dipper got to talk with both Wendy and Pacifica - like realllyyyy talk. He also played a few games with Soos and Gideon and even socialized a little with a few citizens of Gravity Falls. All was well... for now at least.

As the party came to a close, Dipper helped Stan and Soos to start packing up while Ford and Mabel bid the guests farewell. After everyone was gone, Mabel and Dipper sat down in the living room with Stan and Ford. In front of them laid their wrapped birthday gifts. As expected, Mabel and Dipper got almost the same amount of gifts. The two happily opened their gifts, showing each other what they got.
It was obvious that most persons didn't know what to get Dipper. He mostly got books and socks (excluding the really cool mini chest from Stan) but the brunet didn't mind. In fact, he was glad that people at least tried. Plus, Mabel was happy so he was happy.

After a birthday dinner, everyone retired to their room for the night.
"Huh?" The now 15 year old boy mumbled as he walked into his room to see a neatly wrapped gift on his bed. He smiled as he saw that it was from Ford. He hurriedly took a shower and returned to his room in pajamas.

Dipper sat down on the edge of his bed and slowly unwrapped the gift. Beneath it were 2 relatively thick Science books with annotations from Ford. A soft smile etched its way onto Dipper's face as he read the sticky note.

'Happy Birthday kiddo. After you managed to make that cure all on your own, I started to think about how much you have learned from just watching and listening to me work in the lab. So I thought you'd probably like this. I know it's a few years above your level so you can always call me to ask questions.'

Dipper placed the gift on his desk and prepared for bed. This was truly the best birthday ever... well... second best.

Chapter Text

Early the next morning, Mabel and Dipper silently walked with Stan and Ford to the bus stop. They had already said their goodbyes to everyone at the party the night before. Stan carried the bags until they arrived at the empty bus stop. As they waited for the bus, Mabel talked with her two grunkles, enjoying the last few moments. Meanwhile Dipper seemed lost in thought. When the bus finally arrived, the two younger twins gave their grunkles a tight hug. 

"You sure you don't need help with the ba-?" Ford asked, but Stan quickly interrupted. "The boy's got it. Right, Dipper?" He ruffled Dipper's hair causing Ford to sigh. Dipper smiled once more then boarded the bus with the bags. After they took their seats at the back, they waved bye to their grunkles. Tears welled in Dipper's eyes as the men faded out of view. He was going back to Piedmont... back to his father... to school... to home...

The drive was long. Mabel had eventually fallen asleep on his shoulder and he didn't want to wake her. In fact, he would have been asleep too if it wasn't for the annoying triangle bracing against his other shoulder. "What do you want Bi-...?" Dipper abruptly stopped as Mabel snuggled closer to him. Maybe it's best not to call Bill's name. "Nothing. It's just...nice to be out of the barrier." Huh? Right, Bill was unable to leave Gravity Falls two years ago due to the barrier. But wasn't the dream demon outside the barrier when Dipper was having 'hallucinations'? 

"You ask too many questions kid. You're talking to Sixer too much." The triangle closed his eye as though he was comfortable. Dipper huffed slightly. Right, Bill can read his mind. He kept forgetting that... Wait, can't they communicate through his mind then? "You're only now figuring that out? Maybe I give you too much credit." Dipper rolled his eyes. Bill barely gave him any credit. 

"To answer your question: I was technically outside the barrier since I was with you when you were in Piedmont. However, for a reason that you can figure out on your own, I could not fully experience the feeling. It's why you only saw glimpses of me and faint whispers of my voice. It's also why I stopped intervening with your dreams after you started-" "You were weak!" Dipper suddenly shouted, causing the driver and two other passengers to glare at him. He smiled apologetically as he slid down in his seat. Luckily, Mabel was still sound asleep. 

Bill's laughter snapped him out of his embarrassment. "Jackpot Pinetree! After my.... uh...." 'Demise?' Dipper finished for him, speaking in his mind. Bill folded his arms, "Yes. That. I was too weak, and our... bond was also weak. However, as you can see, our bond is stronger now. That tablet was a great help. It's a shame I had to use all it's power." So that's why it disappeared when Dipper went to check for it.

'Why?' Bill ignored the question causing Dipper to frown. It seemed as though that's all he'd get from the triangle for now. Maybe... Maybe if he could figure this out, and ensure that Bill wasn't a threat... then maybe they could talk like this mo- No! What was he thinking?! This was the guy that almost killed them and take over the world two years ago! Bill almost killed all of them and only by sheer luck and ignorance had they tricked him. He was definitely up to something... 

Dipper sighed. Maybe he should just sleep... It seemed like Bill was asleep and Mabel was starting to drool on his jacket. Wait- Can Bill even sleep? Wasn't he void of feelings like hunger or emotions or... tiredness? Did whatever happen after they defeated him cause him to become so weak that he feels these things now? Or maybe he didn't feel it, but needed it now? Or maybe he can sleep and eat but don't need to? Or was it because he was... 'bonded' to Dipper now? Ugh... Dipper should definitely get some shut eye.

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"Kid. Kid, wake up." Dipper groaned softly as he rubbed his eyes. "We're here." Dipper looked around. The bus stopped and they were the only ones onboard.  The driver seemed to have just arrived. 'Thanks.' Dipper yawned again and woke Mabel. 

"Come on." He picked up his bag and their suitcase. Mabel slung her purple bag over her shoulder as she realized they were home. She excitedly got up. "Come on, dad said he'll pick us up!" Dipper hummed and followed after his energetic sister. How was she so happy after just waking up? "Beats me kid." Dipper jumped as he turned to see the triangle floating beside him. 'Gee! Stop doing that!' Bill laughed. 

As promised, their father was waiting for them at the bus stop. "Hurry up boy!" He yelled at Dipper as Mabel got into the backseat of their car. Dipper sighed and hurriedly close the trunk. He took a seat beside his twin as she began to tell the man about their stay at Gravity Falls. It was obvious that their father wasn't listening but the girl didn't seem to notice. 

The trip to their house was mostly silent - excluding Mabel's continual talking. After the car was parked, their father unlocked the house and walked inside. Mabel followed after him, talking the whole time. The man never listened to her, but he never stopped her either. He just... allowed it. It's as though he didn't care. Dipper, on the other hand, was definitely cared about - just not in the way that he wished. His father cared if he messed up, if he made a mistake, if he wasn't doing as told, if he did anything worthy of punishment.

The brunet sighed and opened the trunk. He picked up the large suitcase and his bag before closing the trunk with his foot. When did he get so flexible? Oh well. He carried them inside and left them in his room. He should start separating his stuff from Mabel's so he can repack. 

Chapter Text

Dipper scribbled the assignment in his notebook as the teacher briefed them on what the essay was supposed to be about. As expected, it wasn't going to be an easy topic to research, but he'd manage. At lunch, he could stop by the school library to borrow some History textbooks. Just as the teacher finished, the bell rang to indicate the end of the class. The brunet sighed and shoved his book into his bag before leaving for his next class. 

"Hm... What class do you have next?" Bill was sitting on Dipper's shoulder. It had become a norm over the past week. Dipper had asked him to stop multiple times but the triangle just ignored him. 'English.' Dipper opened the door to the next class. The teacher was already there. She was sitting at her desk, reviewing a few papers - probably her lesson plan. "Boringggg!" Bill groaned. He hated school. He had to watch Dipper go from class to class taking notes on things that the triangle already knew. Worst of all, during most classes the brunet ignored Bill so he can focus! The boy's home life was much more fun to watch!... And much more beneficial for his plans. 

When the class was finished, it was time for lunch. As planned, Dipper made his way to the library to borrow a few textbooks for his assignment. When he was done, he made his way to the cafeteria. He bought a sandwich and a drink before making his way to Mabel's table. He ate silently as he listened to her talk with her friends. 

"Huh? Oh! I didn't even notice you there! When did you join us? Not that long ago, right?" Mabel spoke as the bell rang and Dipper got up with his tray. "Oh... Um... No. It wasn't... long." Dipper smiled softly, his eyes a bit dull. "Well, have fun at P.E.! The girls and I have Music ne-" "Mabel! Come on! We'll be late!" One of the girl's friends shouted as they waited at the cafeteria's door. "Oh! Bye brobro!" The brunette ran off to catch up with her friends. 

Dipper sighed and picked up the other trays. He placed them in their designated disposal area before hurrying off to change for his physical education class.

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"Come on Pinetree~ This is the most interesting class yet and you're not even trying?" Bill hovered beside Dipper as the boy ran the track. He didn't respond, too focused on finishing his last lap. As the teen approached the line that would indicate that he was finished, he suddenly tumbled forward. His face smashed against the track - most likely leaving a bruise, and his classmates that had already finished the laps burst out laughing. 

Dipper stood up, brushing himself off and wincing slightly from the forming headache. "Are you okay? Go wash your face, and return in time for the next activity," The gym teacher announced as he pointed to a nearby washroom door. The boy nodded and walked off. When he made it to the washroom, he rinsed his face as instructed and inspected the small bruise on his forehead. Luckily, it wasn't too big, and it was forming near his hairline. He could probably just hide it with his hair or something...

How did he even trip? He wasn't running fast enough to- The sound of Bill's laughter echoed through Dipper's mind causing the boy to groan. Of course. He should've known. 'Really, Bill? Do you have nothing better to do than to constantly bother me?' The triangle appeared seconds later, a devious glint in his eyes as he took a seat on Dipper's shoulder. "Come on~ I like spending time with you." Dipper rolled his eyes. 'No, you don't.'

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"Dadddd! We're homeee!" Mabel yelled as they entered the house. Their father didn't respond and a news reporter's voice echoed throughout the house. Their father was asleep on the couch, beer bottles lining the ground beneath him. Mabel frowned at the sight. "I'll be in my room. I have to write a short story for my creative writing class." Mabel walked down the hall to her room. 

Maybe he should go to his room to try to finish his essay before his dad wakes up? Yeah... he should do that. 

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A few hours later, Dipper placed his completed assignment in his bookbag and made his way back to the living room. His father was still asleep and Mabel was in the kitchen making dinner. Dipper carefully threw the beer bottles in the trash and mopped the spilled liquid off the floor. He lowered the volume of the television and turned it off. Then he left to watch Mabel cook. 

After the two teens finished eating, Mabel retired to her room to sleep. Dipper was about to do the same when someone grabbed him from his hair, yanking him back from his room door. "Ow- Oh... Father... You're awake." The taller man stared at the boy. He was clearly still intoxicated. 

After a few minutes, the man finally let go of the brunet's hair and staggered forward. "And where dooo you think you'reeeee goinnnnnnngg?" The stench of alcohol disgusted Dipper but he withheld his gag. "To bed, fa-" The sound of a sharp slap echoed in the empty space around them. Dipper's cheek burned but he stood still. The two remained silent for a few moments before his father spoke again. "Takeee me to myyy roommm bratt!" The man staggered forward and Dipper nodded. The brunet guided his father to the bedroom door - a few doors down the hall, and into his bed. "Hm..." His father collapsed on the bed, relieving Dipper of his heavy weight. "Tell yourrr sissterrr good nighttt. I'mmm going to sleepppp." 

Dipper sighed. "Yeah." Dipper left the room as soon as his father's eyes closed. Mabel was most likely already asleep and the old man was just drunk.

"Woah Pinetree! That's no way to think of your elders~" Bill teased. He enjoyed the chaos that ensued whenever the boy's father was drunk. Though, today seemed to be Dipper's lucky day since his father was tired. 'Shut up, Bill.' The triangle laughed as he watched Dipper finally touch his cheek. Maybe being stuck to this idiot won't be too unbearable.

"Whatever. See you in your dreams~" The teen sighed as the triangle disappeared. Great, just great...  

Chapter Text

Dipper hummed quietly as he stared out of his bedroom window. His sister was getting ready in her room for a party. Apparently, it was her friend's party and she had asked Dipper to join her but he politely declined. Even if he did want to go, he knew their father would never allow it. "You can always sneak out~" Bill's voice of temptation echoed in his head. 'No way. If I get caught-'  "You're such a party pooper! Think of Mabel~" 

The brunet sighed and glanced at the neglected notes on his desk. "She did seem sad when I said no..." Bill chuckled softly, circling the teen. Manipulating teenagers were so easy... "Plus, you two used to be so inseparable. Now, you barely talk~ Even I can see it." Dipper groaned. He shouldn't go... But Bill was right. It's been weeks since Mabel and him returned from Gravity Falls and everything went right back to normal - the bare minimum interactions between them. It wasn't Mabel's fault that she was so loved and he wasn't. It wasn't her fault that Dipper was such an outcast and that their father didn't care about what she did. It wasn't her fault that she barely had time for her twin now... 

Dipper grabbed his coat and backpack before climbing out the window. Mabel had already left so he'll meet her there. Maybe he should send her a text that he changed his mind... Yeah. The teen pulled out his phone. "So, you're going after all?" Dipper jumped at the sudden voice, accidently clicking the wrong contact. "Jeez! Stop doing that!" Bill chuckled as he glanced at the boy's phone. "Sorry, not sorry Pinetree!" In a second, the dream demon was gone again. Ugh... So annoying. Dipper rolled his eyes as he typed out a quick message and send it. He pushed the phone back into his backpack and made his way over to the address that he had heard Mabel talk about on her phone. 

The walk there was calm and peaceful. The wind ruffled his hair slightly - did he forget his hat? The street only had an occasional car passing by and Bill didn't reappear for the remainder of the walk. As he approached the address, he spotted the two story wooden house. The music was extremely loud and the windows lit up in a variety of lights. Screams of teens and loud thumping could be heard from a block away. 

Dipper took a deep breath and knocked on the door. No response. He knocked again. No response. Maybe it was too loud for anyone to hear? A sigh left his lips as he turned the knob, pushing open the door and entering. Geez... Dipper's nose scrunched up at the scent of sweaty teens and a scent that he knew too well... booze. He pushed the door in behind him and covered his nose. The place was overcrowded for sure and he couldn't spot Mabel anywhere. Where was she?

For a few minutes, Dipper tried looking for Mabel but to no avail. She wasn't in any rooms... She wasn't in the living room, bathroom nor the backyard so... where was she? He thought she'd at least come meet him after his text.

Dipper eventually retired to the quietest corner he could find with a plate of finger foods. Not too far from him were two other students who seemed to also be waiting on someone or just worn out from socializing. He stared forward as a certain triangle flew through the crowd, enjoying himself. At least one of them were having fun. Dipper sighed, slumping further into the chair and taking his phone out. Maybe he should call Mabel.

Just as he was about turn his phone on, the door opened and everyone paused - everyone except Bill that is. It was Mabel, a blonde girl, and a blond boy that seemed to be the girl's brother. "WHO'S READY FOR A REAL PARTYYYYY?!" Shouted the boy as he held a case of drinks up in the air. Everyone yelled excitedly in response and the party immediately resumed. 

Dipper got up, trying to weave his way through the crowd to get to Mabel. "Mabel! Mabel!" He shouted for her attention but the loud music overpowered his voice. She couldn't hear him... That's fine! He just needs to get to her t- He slammed head first into someone. "Watch it!" It was a tall senior. Their wet shirt was clinging to his body, displaying his very fit physique. Did he spill his drink on himself when Dipper bumped into him? "Sorry, I didn't mean t- " A loud scoff interrupted him. "Ugh! This was brand new!" The boy glanced at his shirt as he pushed the brunet down, catching the attention of everyone around them. "I-" Dipper was once again cut off, this time by his own fear as the senior towered over him. "Let's see how you like it, punk!" In an instant Dipper felt a cold liquid dripping from his hair onto his face. It smelt like alcohol and fruit. Muffled chuckles eventually erupted into loud laughter as more cups of soda and the same fruity alcohol was thrown at him. Tears streamed down his face, causing the senior to laugh too as he announced it to everyone. 

Dipper looked up slightly, watching Mabel in the crowd... She wasn't doing anything... She was just... standing there. Dipper lowered his head and stood up trembling. It's cold and his eyes burned and his stomach hurt and his cheeks felt hot and... he just wanted to go home. A soft voice emerged from the crowd of laughter, "Get lost kid." The room had already felt suffocating so without a single word, Dipper turned and follow the voice's instruction. He bolted out the door, not daring to look back.

As he ran the sounds of the party faded and the cool air brushed past his soaking skin - making him shiver. After he couldn't hear the loud music or see flashes of coloured lights anymore, he slowed to a halt and sat at the side of the pavement. 

Chapter Text

Dipper brought his knees to his chest as he sobbed into his jeans. Why was she just standing there? Just watching... Did she not care? No, she cared about him... They're twins. She had to care... Right....?

"Oh Pinetree..." Bill floated closer until he was hovering above the crying teen. "I'm sorry Pinetree. This wouldn't have happened if I didn't push you to go. I-" Dipper looked up at the voice. He knew it was Bill. In fact, at first he had planned to ignore the triangle but Bill was apologizing? Bill... was apologizing. 'It's fine. I shouldn't have gone in the first place.' Bill floated closer, wiping the tears that endlessly streamed down the boy's face. They made eye contact, the world seemingly pausing for a few seconds until Bill spoke again. "Don't cry. You defeated a dream demon that has destroyed endless of dimensions! Who cares what those meatsacks think?! YOU are so much more entertaining than they could ever be!" 

Dipper stifled a chuckle. 'Is that your attempt at cheering me up?' Bill let go of the teen's face. "Hey! I'm trying my best here!" Dipper smiled and wiped his tears. Bill was cheering him up... Bill of all people was the one here for him. Not his sister... Bill... 

The two sat in silence for a while, Dipper trying to just enjoy the peaceful moment as Bill awkwardly pat his back in reassurance. Eventually, Dipper deemed it time to return home. 

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Dipper slowly shut the door behind him, careful to avoid alerting his probably drunk father. Why couldn't he just leave his bedroom window open? He groaned as one of the floorboards made a loud creek. In a matter of seconds, he heard his father guff voice. "Ah. You're back."

Why couldn't he ever catch a break? Dipper squeaked in horror as Bill pushed him out the way of an incoming bottle. The beer bottle shattered against the wall beside his head and his father looked rather angry. "Who told you to go to some... some party?! You think you can just do as you want? Huh?! You think you own this house?! Going and coming as you please?!" The man staggered forward, harshly chucking his son against the wall. "You are MY responsibility! You answer to me! And you are not to be going out and about as you want!" The teen was once again slammed against the wall. He winced softly - his back was definitely going to bruise if his father continued. "You think you can just go out whenever you want?" Another chuck. "You think you can go to parties behind my back?!" Another chuck. "You think you can disrespect me like that?! I'm the one in charge!" Another chuck. Though this time Dipper's knees gave out and he fell - losing eye contact with his father. "Look at me you damn mutt!" The brunet's eyes welled with tears at the sting from the punch his father delivered across his face. He looked up, making eye contact again. " Ungrateful brat! You're crying? I'll give you something to cry for!" Dipper tried to object, to explain, to say anything that would stop the man but it was too late. He was already being punched again and again and again by his father. 

When the series of hits finally came to a stop, Dipper looked up.. "Why'd you leave? Why'd you have to leave? And all cause I hit our son? I was drunk! I didn't mean it! Come back. Please! I didn't mean to hit you!" Great... now his father thought he was his wife (Dipper's late mom). It's a good thing that Mabel will be staying at her friends' party for the night. By the time she comes back, as usual, their father will probably be asleep. "I.... I'm sorry... I'm not-" Suddenly, a hand grabbed his throat. This was rare, yes... but not new. Dipper knew not to fight it too much or it'll only anger the man more. "I said I didn't mean it!" The man pressed harder - suffocating his son. After a few more seconds, he was released. "Why won't you love me anymore? I'll be nice! I'll stop drinking! Please! Please just love me again!" Dipper pulled back. "F-Father... It's me. Dipper. I'm not-" "Oh..." His father's begging smile dropped. "Go to your room. I don't want to know of your existence." 

The young boy didn't wait for his father to change his mind. He knew better. As quickly as he could, he ran to his room - ignoring his throbbing cheek and aching lungs. How did his father know about him going to a party? Dipper locked the door and crawled into his bed. His backpack carelessly thrown somewhere in his room as he cried silently. His throat burned, his lungs burned, his cheek burned, his back burned... Everything just hurts... so...so much... Why couldn't he ever catch a break?

Chapter Text

Dipper found himself standing in the middle of an endless field of white daisies, their soft petals swaying gently in the breeze. It felt familiar, he had been here a hundred times before, and yet, it still didn't feel right. It never did. He took a seat on the ground, hugging himself for comfort. It had been a while since he'd been here...

Suddenly, a sharp, insistent voice broke through the silence. "Heya, Pinetree!" Bill Cipher's voice rang out, a sound of pure mockery and false cheer, though Dipper couldn't even hear the undertone any longer. Had he gotten used to it? Or was he just so pathetically sad that he didn't care? The dream demon popped into existence, floating around Dipper like a buzzing, insistent fly. His eye gleamed in some sort of amusement. Of course he was amused, it's still Bill after all. "Your father's a jerk, you know. Are you alright?"

Dipper didn't even look up. His gaze was focused on the endless horizon, his mind too clouded to engage with Bill, too exhausted to pretend he was fine. "Tell me about it," Dipper muttered, his voice a dull monotone. "I'm alright. I'll heal up in a few weeks or so."

Bill hummed. "I'm having a feeling this has happened before," Bill said, his voice turning slow and syrupy, as though savoring the words. "Every time you get knocked down, every time you try to fight back, doesn't it feel like you're just trapped? Can't escape, can't break free. No one there to help you? To... lend a hand?" His eye twinkled as Dipper looked up. 

Dipper's stomach twisted, and he swallowed hard. He wanted to ignore it but the words were true. He was alone and fate always had some cruelty in store for him...

"It does," Dipper said quietly, almost to himself.

Bill floated beside Dipper and tilted as if savoring the moment. "Yeah, I know. You've been doing this for how long now? And where's it gotten you, huh? Nothing changes. You're just a kid who's constantly getting torn down by the people who're supposed to love you." Bill's voice softened, like a pillow used to suffocate someone in their sleep. "Don't you get tired of it, Pinetree? Tired of being the good kid, the perfect little son who can't do anything right?"

Dipper's chest tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. It wasn't true. He wasn't just some kid who couldn't do anything right. But in this place, in the dream where his mind was already fractured and fragile, those words felt far too close to reality.

Bill floated closer, his eye glinting with amusement. "Want me to turn him into ash for you?" The words were almost playful, like a suggestion, but Dipper could hear the undertone. It was too upbeat, too eager. "I could do that, you know. Just snap my fingers, and poof—he's gone. No more pain. No more him. You could be free."

Dipper's heart skipped a beat. A flash of temptation shot through him—just the thought of it, just the idea of making it all stop. But then his mind recoiled, forcing the thought away.

"No," he said, his voice firm. "I don't want that."

But did he? Did he really not want that? Wasn't there some part of him that did want the freedom Bill was offering?

"Are you sure about that?" Bill cooed, the words dripping like honey. "You've taken so much from him, haven't you? So much pain, so much hurt. And for what? Just so he can do it again?" He circled Dipper, his tone growing sweeter, more insistent. "You could end it. I could make it so easy. Just let me."

The temptation was there, gnawing at the edges of Dipper's mind. But he forced himself to shake it off. It was wrong. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

Bill, sensing the hesitation, chuckled again. The seed has been planted, now it's just to nurture and wait for it to grow. "Hm. Here, then," he said, snapping his fingers, "Let's change the scenery, shall we?"

Bill snapped his fingers with a sharp crack, and the world around Dipper seemed to unravel at the seams. The quiet field of daisies shifted to Gravity Falls forest.

"Ah, here we are!" Bill's voice rang out. He appeared in front of Dipper, his yellow eye gleaming . "Let's go on an adventure, hm? Forget about everything else for a while. Just you and me. What do you say?"

Dipper took a step back and hesitantly nodded, "Okay." They walked through the forest, though 'walked' might've been generous. "This isn't real. The forest isn't so-" he muttered. Bill, now reclining in midair like some smug cartoon character, interrupted him. "This isn't about reality, Pinetree—it's about what you need. You looked like you could use a break."

"I didn't ask for one."

"You didn't have to. You looked like a kicked puppy back there and usually that's funny but it's just depressing in your case."

Dipper scowled, crossing his arms. "You're really bad at this whole 'comforting' thing."

"Hey, I never said I was comforting. I said I care. There's a difference." Bill dropped from the air and landed on the forest floor, somehow making no sound at all. "C'mon. Let's do something dumb and irresponsible. You like dumb and irresponsible, right?"

"I like smart and responsible," Dipper shot back though it lacked its usual fierceness.

Bill tilted his eye. "Suuuure."

A soft huff escaped Dipper's lips, not quite a laugh but close. "There it is! The tiniest flicker of amusement. We're making progress." He slung an arm around Dipper's shoulders. The boy didn't push him off - it wouldn't do anything to deter Bill.

"So, what'll it be? Racing deer? Skipping stones across alternate dimensions? We could go find a universe where your dad's a clown and pie him in the face every time he says something mean-" Dipper frowned. "That's oddly specific."

They walked for a while. Dipper didn't talk much, but he wasn't pulling away either. Bill kept the tone light; he cracked jokes, shifted the trees into weird, cartoonish shapes when Dipper wasn't looking, and turned a squirrel into a balloon animal that exploded with glitter.

And slowly, very very slowly, Dipper's shoulders began to drop. The tension faded just enough for him to kick a rock playfully into a stream. He smirked. Bill noticed.

"There he is," he said softly, with a warmth that was almost comforting. "See? This is nice, right? No yelling. No pressure. Just... us." Dipper glanced over, uncertain. He's been thinking and he was too distressed earlier to remember but Bill was definitely up to something and whatever it was, he needed Dipper... This could all be a trick, some messed up play on his emotions. But yet again, as long as Bill was still in his mindscape, he couldn't cause any harm... right? "You're still you."

Bill raised his hands like he was caught. Pinetree was thinking too much. "Guilty as charged! I am, indeed, still me." Then, a little quieter, he continued, "But even a dream demon can tell when someone needs a break. And maybe I like hanging out with you, Pinetree. Just maybe... And you like hanging out with me too."

Dipper didn't answer, but he didn't deny it either. And when Bill conjured a glowing paper lantern and floated it into the sky, Dipper watched it for a long time—his eyes reflecting the light.

...Maybe Bill did have a heart of sorts? A twisted one but one nonetheless?

Chapter Text

Weeks had gone by. His father had apologized, but only after nearly killing him—and even then, it came with a lecture blaming Dipper for being such a problem. As always, Dipper smiled and accepted it. Whether he accepted it or not didn't really matter; nothing ever changed. School was embarrassing at first, but he quickly realized that only a few people had recognized him from the party. He probably had the flashing lights, his soaking wet hair, and the way he kept his head down to thank for that. Mabel hadn't mentioned anything to him, so neither did he. Afterall, she just stood there and watched. Why should he approach her about the party? Without Dipper actively trying to get closer to his twin, they drifted even further away. But who cares? Definitely not her. No. She cared about her stupid parties, and stupid friends, and everything but her stupid brother. 

Dipper sighed as he locked his locker to head to class. He had a test today for History class but he didn't get to study since his oh so wonderful father kept him busy with errands and chores last night. Luckily he had an ancient dream demon stuck in his head willing to help him... for some reason. But still... isn't that cheating? "Ready Pinetree?" The brunet didn't respond.  Was he ready? Ever since the night of the party, and the talk Bill and Dipper had, the teen felt more inclined to trust Bill. Afterall, he can't cause any harm right? He was trapped so it wasn't like Dipper was doing anything wrong. 

"Eh... I still don't like the idea of cheating." Bill floated over his head in glee. "Cheating? Tsk, tsk. Don't think like that. It's more like... a tactical advantage." Dipper rolled his eyes but didn't argue. He rarely did, and when he did it sounded more like a small disagreement between friends than his past harsh toned retorts. Before he feared the dream demon, for good reason too, so he put up with Bill. But now, it was more out of his own choice to do so. 

Bill hummed softly. The brunet's thoughts always gave way for the triangle to know what to do or say next. He wished he had thought of emotional manipulation earlier... Though he needs to be careful, the teen was becoming one of his favorite toys and he didn't want to get too attached. "You got morals kid, I'll give you that." Bill's voice lowered to one of sickeningly sweet concern, "Your dad tears you down every time you stand up. Mabel's off being the most popular girl of the school while you're left picking up the shattered pieces alone. And you're still playing by the rules?" Bill floated down in front of him, making eye contact. "Come on. Just this once. Let me help you."

Dipper paused at the doorway to the classroom, hand hovering over the handle. "...You're not going to make me sell my soul or anything, right?"

"Pinetree." Bill pressed his hand over where his bowtie was. "I am deeply offended. After all we've been through?" He chuckled. "No contracts. No strings. Just... a whisper in the right part of your mind." Dipper hummed and as the bell rang, he walked in to take the test.

Dipper slid into his seat near the back and pulled out a pencil. After a few more minutes of the teacher giving instructions, the test was distributed. 

The brunet stared at the paper, scanning through the questions. He knew some but would that be enough? He should know the others too but he just couldn't remember. As the teacher announced that they may begin, he didn't start answering like the other kids. The words blurred together and anxiety started to gnaw at his stomach - until suddenly, a voice hummed in his head. Smooth. Warm. Bill.

"Third answer's C. It's always C with this guy. Boring, predictable—almost as bad as soap operas." Dipper hesitated. Then he circled C.

Bill's soft voice echoed again in his head, teasingly this time, "See? Not cheating. Just... remembering faster."

For the rest of the test it continued. A quiet nudge here. A whisper there. Dipper answered question after question, faster and with more certainty than he should've. No one noticed. No one ever noticed. By the time he handed the paper in, Dipper's hands weren't even shaking anymore. He trusted Bill, he knew Bill helped him ace this test.

.

.

.

At lunch, Dipper sat at an empty table with his headphones in. Ford had gotten him them when they were in Gravity Falls. Usually he'd go to Mabel's table to eat. It was the one time in school that they interacted but it didn't seem like she even noticed that he was missing. His food remained untouched on his tray. Mabel was laughing way too loud with her friends. 

Bill, hovering beside the brunet's tray, sighed dramatically. "She doesn't get it," he said. "She never will." 

Dipper's fingers tightened around his juice box, "I don't want to hate her."

"You don't," Bill said. "You just stopped expecting her to love you like she used to. And that's not hate, Pinetree. That's called growing up." That stung more than it should've but Dipper didn't argue. "Besides, you have me..." Dipper froze for a second, the words hanging in the air. He stared at the sandwich on his tray, "Right..." 

Bill beamed at the acknowledgement, Dipper was starting to open up to the idea of being friends with him and all he had to do was say the right stuff at the right time. "See Pinetree? You're not as alone as you think, kid. You've got someone who listens to you."

Dipper swallowed hard. He hated how good that felt to hear. How much he wanted it to be true and not some trick. "You're just saying that because you're stuck with me."

"Wrong-o! I'm saying it because it's true." Bill leaned in closer. "You're sharp, smarter than the rest of these idiots, and insufferably stubborn. That's rare, Pine Tree. That's valuable."

Dipper's eyes flicked up from his tray. Mabel was still at her table, surrounded by people who seemed to adore her. She didn't look his way once. And yet, despite the ache in his chest, Dipper found himself whispering, "Thanks."

Bill straightened with theatrical satisfaction. "That's what friends are for, right?" Dipper looked back down at his uneaten food and softly nodded. 

They sat in silence for a while—Bill humming some strange melody as Dipper picked at the edges of his sandwich. The noise of the cafeteria buzzed around them like static, but none of it bothered them. It was just the two of them. Like it had been for a while now.

After a long pause, Dipper quietly spoke up again. "Why are you being so nice to me? I mean... I get that you're stuck, but why this?" He looked up. "Why me?"

Bill didn't answer right away. He floated, tilting his triangle-shaped head thoughtfully. "I told you a while back Pinetree. I care. Even I know when someone's been through enough. Besides you're much better than these meatsacks here." Bill gestured to the full cafeteria before continuing, "Though, your misery also has a bit to play. I pity you. The way you put up with people that obviously don't deserve you. Your dad. your classmates.... Mabel."

Dipper huffed at the mention of his sister. "Don't."

"What? Tell the truth?" Bill's voice became sharp as though it was dissecting Dipper bit by bit. "You've spent your whole life trying to earn love that should've been given freely. Trying to be better just to get scraps. That's not fair, Pinetree."

Dipper's throat tightened. "Stop trying to make me hate them. I don't want to lose her..."

"I'm not and you're not losing her," Bill said, softer now. "I'm just making sure you stop hating yourself."

Dipper remained silent, looking back down at the sandwich on his tray. That was all Bill needed. Dipper will think and fall further on his own. 

Chapter Text

It was late. The house was eerily quiet and Mabel was out by a friend. Dipper sat on his bed, legs crossed as he stared at the open textbook in his lap. The soft glow of his desk lamp casted long shadows on the wall but illuminated the pages almost perfectly for Dipper. Though, he hadn't turned a page in nearly an hour. No, he wasn't studying anymore. Now, he was thinking about his home life, about Mabel, about Ford, about Gravity Falls, and about Bill. Something didn't make sense but at the same time Bill had been so comforting of recent. He was so kind and he was right. Dipper didn't deserve this, right? He was just a kid. Why was the one person he can trust right now, the person he feels safest with - excluding Ford - was the dream demon that almost killed him a few years back?

After a few more minutes of thinking, he heard the front door slam. Then the unmistakable sound of his father's voice—slurred and angry, even though no one was arguing back. Dipper didn't move. He barely breathed. He stayed in his room as he listened to the man trash the living room and probably the kitchen too. Going out there now was a death wish. Even letting the man know he existed would be a death wish right now. The brunet's heart pounded in his ears, louder than the TV blaring in the next room.

He didn't even notice Bill had appeared until the triangle's glow lit the pages of his book. "Some people really know how to ruin a Tuesday night," Bill said lightly, but his eye narrowed on the bedroom door like he was daring it to open. "What's the occasion this time? A bad day at work? Lost the remote? Forgot how to be a decent human being again?"

Dipper exhaled shakily, fingers tightening on the edge of his book as a crash echoed from the living room. Bill floated closer, placing a hand on the boy's back. "You know it's not your fault, right?" 

Dipper flinched. Not because he disagreed. But because he was starting to believe the words spewed by the triangle. "You're doing your best," Bill murmured, rubbing his hand rhythmically against the brunet's back. "And he treats you like a punching bag with legs." His voice quieter and more intimate. "You're allowed to be tired, Pine Tree."

Dipper let out a breath. "Yeah," he whispered. "I am."

"That's right," the embodiment of chaos cooed. Dipper had stopped trying to please everyone else. Bit by bit. Night by night. And it wasn't an accident. No, it was all according to the new and modified plan. Afterall, as much as the triangle can scare Dipper into helping him, imagine what greater lengths the teen would go for one of his only supports? His only comfort.

Bill would never admit it out loud, but it thrilled him — the way Dipper listened now. The way he leaned into the comfort Bill offered like it was safe. The boy hadn't even realized that his hostility to the dream demon had started to shimmer away; the way he slightly perked up whenever Bill appeared; the way he was no longer annoyed by the triangle's presence; the way he longed for the reassurance. 

It made something greedy coil in Bill's twisted heart. "Funny, isn't it?" Bill said, slowly retracting his hand and flipping upside down to hover beside the bed. "The people who are supposed to love you the most end up hurting you the worst. And the one who's supposed to be the monster... ends up being your best friend."

Dipper didn't look up but he didn't argue either. He had been doing that a lot of lately - listening to Bill. Whether it was some piece of random knowledge, words of 'comfort', or just Bill's usual rambling, the brunet listened and Bill enjoyed it - the undivided attention as he rambled about things that Dipper probably didn't even understand, the subtle hope that sprinkles in Dipper's eyes when Bill comes to calm him after a breakdown, the dependency on him that was starting to form in the boy.

Bill watched him - really watched him - and that familiar feeling slithered closer again. That strange, unexpected pull. Not just amusement. Not just manipulation. No. This was something closer to ownership. Some sort of twisted attachment, like a child clutching a broken toy because it was the only one that ever truly felt like his. That's it! That's what Bill had been feeling as he deceived Dipper for almost a year. Pinetree was his. The boy just didn't know it yet.

And the worst part? Part of Bill liked having Dipper like this. Fragile. Dependent. Trusting. All on him, and only him.

Bill hovered just above Dipper's head, like he was sheltering him from the weight of the world. "You're stronger than they'll ever know," he said gently. "You don't need them, Pinetree. You've got me."

"Thanks," he murmured. "Always, kiddo." came Bill's sickeningly sweet response.

Outside, another loud shatter echoed throughout the house. Dipper didn't flinch, not this time. He stayed right where he was — in the bubble of warmth and quiet and strange safety that Bill created.

As the night dragged on, and the house remained in the noise of his father's drunken chaos, Dipper let Bill talk about anything and everything.

Eventually Bill deemed it time for bed and with a click of his fingers, the boy drifted to sleep -his textbook was still open and the lamp still on. Hovering just over the edge of his bed, Bill stayed with him all night, quietly watching over his dreams. He softly hummed a tune to himself as he awaited morning. It was working. Now, he just needs to make a few adjustments to ensure Dipper's survival in his plans.

Chapter Text

The world kept moving, but for Dipper, it felt like everything had been cracked open and reassembled differently. He was still walking the same school halls, still sitting at the same lunch tables, still passing by his sister in the same house — but it was different now. Something had changed.

And his relationship with Mabel? It was a canyon now.

They didn't fight. Instead, they just... stopped trying. There was no more shared glances across the cafeteria; no knocking on his bedroom door; no attempts to pull him into her group of friends and laughter. She just let him drift. Then again, so did he. Maybe she thought he needed space. Maybe she didn't care. Maybe she just didn't know what to say anymore.

But that was fine. Really. He didn't need her. Not anymore. Why? Because Dipper had Bill.

It had all started very slowly. Dipper couldn't even pinpoint the moment he started to think of Bill as a friend of sorts. It didn't matter though, because Bill cared. He knew he shouldn't trust him but he did. And there was no harm in that, right? After all, Bill wasn't hurting him. Bill was his friend. Bill kept him safe.

After every fight with that wretched old man, after every cruel remark and sharp slap of words- or worse- Dipper would retreat to his room, stomach tight and chest aching. And Bill would be there, hovering silently at first. Then humming a tune Dipper had grown to love. Then whispering soft reassurances in the boy's ear.

At first, Dipper had resisted. Not fully, but enough to remind himself that Bill had a plan. But as the months passed, as the abuse and neglect continued, it unraveled, piece by piece. Every time Bill said the right thing, every time he listened without judgment, every time he made the pain feel just a little smaller, Dipper fell further and further into Bill's grasp without even realizing it.

"You don't deserve this, Pinetree."

"He's afraid of you, y'know. And he ought to be."

"You're not weak. You're the strongest person here."

"You defeated me, you can take him. You can take all of them."

"Let me help you."

Eventually, Dipper stopped trying to see reason. He stopped trying to reject Bill and he let him help. 

The brunet got bolder too. So so much bolder.

The first time Dipper talked back to his father, it came out before he even thought about it: "Maybe if you spent more time sober, you'd realize I'm not the problem."

There was silence at first, a flash of surprise on his drunken father's face. Then there was a fit of rage. Dipper faced the consequences, flung to the floor and burned by the nearby pot as his father beat the life out of him.  But Bill had whispered, "Don't flinch." So Dipper didn't.

He took the yelling, the hits, the burn, the pain, but for the first time... he wasn't afraid. Just numb. And later that night, as he sat on the floor with an ice pack and tears that he refused to let fall, Bill had wrapped him further around his finger. "You were perfect. So brave." He whispered. Dipper liked it. He longed for more, more adrenaline, more reassurance, more compliments, more Bill.

The second time was about two weeks later. His father had brought some chick home but when she saw that he had a child, she left in a fury. Of course, that earned Dipper his father's anger. "You talk a lot of crap for someone who hasn't held a job for more than six months." He said this time. A glass bottle had hit the wall beside the boy, pieces dug into his arm and blood oozed to the carpet - probably staining it. But Dipper didn't flinch, he didn't even react. Bill was proud and he made sure Dipper knew it.

The third time Dipper didn't even raise his voice. His father had mistaken him for his mother again, switching between begging and hurting him. When he had had enough of his father's nonsense, he just looked the man in the eye and said, "You already lost mom and you're loosing yourself too. You're just too drunk to notice." He walked away after that, leaving his father shouting into an empty hallway. And Bill? Bill laughed like it was a victory parade.

By then, Dipper wasn't just used to Bill being around. He counted on it. He needed it. He craved it. He talked to him before bed, during school, after school, and even in his dreams. Sometimes even mid-conversation with others, Bill would quietly interject a thought or a suggestion, and Dipper would respond with the same ease he once reserved for Mabel. 

"He's lying."

"Don't trust that teacher."

"She only asked to work with you because she forgot to do the homework."

Sometimes Bill told him stories. Hidden science, lost history, forgotten secrets buried in the layers of reality. Dipper soaked it up like a dry sponge. It was the only time he felt truly alive. Bill gave him dreams too. Soft ones, strange ones, gory ones. Flying through stars, standing in libraries filled with books older than time, swimming through black oceans with glowing constellations beneath the surface, watching hearts be ripped out before his eyes. And always, Bill was beside him. Laughing. Teaching. Watching.

Dipper still sat alone at lunch. But he didn't care anymore.

He didn't get nervous when teachers ignored him, didn't feel anything when people whispered, didn't try to be seen. It didn't bother him anymore because when they were all gone, and his hands trembled from painful memories and mental breakdowns, Bill was there. 

And somewhere along the way, Dipper stopped wondering if Bill was his friend. He just knew. 

"You're the only one who listens."

"You're the only one who stays."

He wanted Bill near. He wanted his voice, his comfort, his presence. He wanted his friendship. And he hadn't even notice how easily that thought settled into his mind over the past two years as a new truth.

Chapter Text

Dipper was finally going back. Mabel had went last year, but as 'punishment' his father didn't allow him to go with her. This year was different though. Stan and Ford had manage to convince the old bastard that if Dipper went, he'd have some time to himself - more like time to do as he pleased without Dipper there to interrupt. 

There was no excitement, no nerves humming in Dipper's chest like they had two years ago. The boy who once counted down days to return to Gravity Falls wasn't the same boy that was currently folding his flannel shirts into a worn suitcase.

He sat cross-legged on the floor beside his bed. His clothes sat in a lazy pile as he idly gripped a hoodie like he had forgotten what he was doing. He had been thinking a lot over the past two years. It seemed to be almost all he did now - converse with Bill and think. The desk lamp casted a soft orange glow across the room.

He didn't realize how silent his room had gotten until a familiar hum filled the air—soft and gentle like a lullaby.

"Need help deciding what to bring, Pinetree?" came the cheerful voice. Dipper smiled faintly, not even looking up, "You already know what I'm taking." Bill hovered upside down, arms behind him.

"I do. But it's fun to watch you." He leaned in closer, as he carelessly glanced at the pile of clothes. "Ford says he needs me," Dipper said after a while. It felt like he needed to explain. "He called the old man and convinced him to let me come this year. There's some creature that he wants us to check out together."

Bill's glow flickered briefly, like a warning light. But his voice didn't change. "Of course he does," he said smoothly. "Now he calls you. Now that you're useful again."

Dipper hesitated. "It's not like that." Bill floated in a slow circle around him. "Isn't it?"

Dipper picked at the frayed hem of his hoodie. He didn't answer.

Bill stopped behind him, his voice soft as he leaned on the boy's shoulder, "I don't like the idea of you going back."

Dipper blinked in confusion. "What? Why not?"

"I don't trust that town," Bill said easily. "They'll try to make you into that defenseless boy again. But you're not that person anymore. You've changed. You're stronger, bolder, better. And that's all because of me."

The words were light. Almost proud. Dipper didn't respond, but his chest felt warm.

He did change. A lot. He wasn't scared anymore. He wasn't the weak, stammering kid begging for kindness. He stood taller now. He talked back. He saw the truth behind people's smiles. And Bill... Bill had been there for all of it. Bill is the one he had to thank for it. His friend that stayed by his side.

Bill tilted his head, his voice dipping into something softer. "Of course I stayed. You're mine, remember?"

Dipper looked up at that. Just for a second. "Yours?" He questioned.

Bill chuckled. "Not like that, Pine Tree. I just meant that you're important to me."

It was such a simple phrase. But it hit harder than it should have. Dipper stared at the floor, feeling the weight of it settle in his chest. "...I don't want to leave you behind," he admitted quietly. 

"Who says you have to?"

"You said Gravity Falls messed with your... you know. Powers."

"Oh, it does." Bill shrugged. "But you're forgetting something."

"What?"

Bill leaned in, close enough that his glow warmed Dipper's cheek.

"I'm not tied to Gravity Falls anymore. I'm tied to you. Wherever you go, I go." Dipper's breath caught. He didn't know what to say to that. But Bill knew. He always knew. "I made a promise, didn't I?" the demon said. "It's just me and you. I'll always be here."

Dipper's chest ached. But it wasn't a bad ache. It hadn't been a bad ache in almost a year. "I want you there," Dipper said, like a confession. "Not because I need you-"

"You do," Bill cut in, his voice playfully sweet. 

Dipper didn't deny it, he just continued, "-but because you make it bearable." Bill didn't answer right away. He floated in silence, his eye fixed on the boy below him. On the bruises that never quite healed. On the silence between Dipper's words. On the shape of loneliness Dipper didn't know how to hide anymore. There he was — his Pinetree. So much pain in such a small, clever mind. So much desperation for attention. So easy to mold. So easy to change.

Bill's light brightened: not with love, not friendship, not with care, but with possession. The kind of selfish want that a child might have for a broken toy that was too damaged to be played with, but far too precious to throw away. Someone that looked up to him. Someone that wanted him desperately. Someone he had completely under his grasp. Sure, it took way longer than his original plan but it was going to be so so worth it.

"Then I'll be there," Bill promised. "Every step. Every second." Dipper smiled — not wide nor bright, but softly. "Good." He turned back to his suitcase, folding the last shirt with careful hands, sliding it beside the textbooks that Ford had given him two years ago.

Bill floated back just a little, observing him with a slow spin — his eye never leaving him.

He had invested so much time into this one. This scared, stubborn little boy with too much heart and not enough people to hold it. He'd whispered him into boldness. Molded his thoughts. Nudged him into the 'right' direction. And Dipper had let him. Why? Because Dipper needed someone. And Bill had become everything.

So as the boy zipped up his bag, Bill drifted low, quiet now — quieter than he usually bothered to be. Watching. Waiting.

Gravity Falls was dangerous, not because of monsters nor the ancient forces. No. It was dangerous because it reminded Pinetree of who he used to be and because Sixer was there. Sixer was the last attached string his precious puppet had to this world and it was strong one. He couldn't just convince the brunet that Ford didn't care. He had tried and miserably failed. And he can't just remove Ford from the face of the Earth either, that might cause complications with Dipper's new resolve. And Bill couldn't risk that. Not when Dipper was so close to being exactly what he wanted. Not when he'd finally stopped pulling away.

Gravity Falls may have taken everything from Bill once. But this time? He wasn't coming back empty-handed. And if anyone tried to take Dipper away from him... Well, they'd see what happens when Bill doesn't get his way.

Chapter Text

The trees blurred past the window in streaks of green and brown, and the radio played something low - the lyrics barely audible. Dipper leaned against the window of the bus, his breath fogging the glass just a little. 

The brunet didn't remember falling asleep. But he must have because he was somewhere entirely different now.

He stood in the middle of a forest, but it wasn't like the ones outside the bus. The trees here were too tall, too still. The sky above glowed a warm amber, like dusk had been frozen in place. Everything was quiet, dreamlike — peaceful in a way that his real life never was.

Leaves shifted overhead, rustling gently as though someone had just walked past. But Dipper wasn't afraid. He was used to this place. Or more specifically, he was used to variants like it. He turned without surprise at the sound of a familiar laugh.

"Sleeping on a bus? You sure know how to live, Pinetree."

There he was. Floating a few feet away, reclining lazily in the air like gravity didn't apply to him, like rules were always optional - then again, maybe it was with the dream demon. Bill Cipher — once a being of nightmares, now something Dipper had learned to live with. Maybe even need.

His glow wasn't the harsh, searing gold that he knew from Weirdmageddon. It was gentler now. Like the light of a fireplace, flickering every few seconds but still comforting.

Dipper let out a breath. His shoulders dropped. "Hey," he said, quiet and easy, like greeting a friend. Bill's eye narrowed in amusement, "No jump? No panic? No 'get out of my head, you manipulative jerk'?"

Dipper's lips twitched into a small smile as Bill teased him, "I think we're past that." If Bill could've grin, one would be plastered across his triangular figure. Only about two years ago Dipper was still so terrified of him and suspicious, but now? How much his little pinetree has grown.

They walked side-by-side through the vibrant green trees. Time didn't pass here in the usual way, and the path under Dipper's feet didn't feel like ground. Bill floated above his shoulder, like a shadow dressed in gold.

"You know," he said idly as he took a seat on the teen's shoulder, "it's so funny. You used to fight so hard, you despised me. I think you tried to punch me in one of your dreams. I was the monster under your bed. The demon in your dreams."

Dipper looked straight ahead, replying almost instantly, "You were the monster." Bill laughed, "Was I?" Dipper was quiet for a few seconds, pondering something that Bill chose not to read. "You're not anymore. At least, I don't think so?" 

Bill didn't immediately respond. He just stared. Not at Dipper's face, but through him. Watching the weight in his shoulders, the slight forward lean, the exhausted way Dipper moved like someone constantly bracing for impact — even in his dreams. "I think you're not evil anymore. Over the past 2 to 3 years, you proved to have changed in some way. I mean, I was skeptical, and rightfully so. You tried to kill my family and I so you can take over our world. Then you came back, threatening me and forcing me to do things. Plus, the obvious manipulation and whatever crazy plan you were clearly planning, I thought you were going to use me to return and then continue your original plan." Dipper ranted as he stared up at the bits of amber that squeezed through the canopy above them, a soft smirk formed on his lips before he continued, "But over the last few months, I started to see you've definitely changed. Even if it stared out as manipulation, you care."

"Of course I care about you." Bill reassured.

They eventually reached a clearing. The trees gave way to long, low grass bathed in the beautiful amber, each blade swaying just a little too slowly. In the center stood a bench — warped and grown from twisted roots, like the forest had shaped it.

Dipper sat down, not questioning anything. Bill didn't sit. He remained on the boy's shoulder as he watched the horizon as if it meant something. "You don't have to be afraid anymore," he said quietly. Dipper didn't answer. But he didn't need to, not anymore.

The stillness in his chest said enough. That awful sharp weight — the one that used to sit in his ribs every time he thought of home, of his dad, of Mabel, and once of Bill — it wasn't as sharp now. It was quieter now. Duller. Softened by Bill, one of the very causes of that pain. 

"You've got me. I'll always be here for you, will you do the same for me?" Bill added - a trap. One that Dipper had already fallen for. Said boy nodded without thinking much. That was the most dangerous part, Dipper didn't question Bill anymore - all previous suspicions slowly erased within the past two plus years.

After a while, Dipper whispered, "You'll still be with me, right? Even in Gravity Falls?" Bill tilted slightly, "Of course. I just told you I'd never leave you, Pinetree." He didn't need to read his toy's mind anymore, he understood the boy's tone and body language after all the time they had spent together. 

"They might notice," Dipper continued as he lowered his head, "Ford. Mabel. They might ask things."

"They'll be too busy pretending they know you," Bill replied, voice low. "You've changed. Humans hate change. They'll try to fix you. Try to make you believe you were the problem. That something is wrong with you. But you've grown past that, Pinetree. You won't fall for their tricks anymore."

Dipper's eyes welled in tears. "I don't want to hurt them." 

"You won't have to," Bill replied almost too gently — he's had practice. "Just don't let them hurt you."

Dipper didn't answer but deep inside, something ached in agreement.

"You don't belong to them anymore, Pinetree."

That word or at least Bill's tone should've sparked fear or rebellion or something... but it didn't. It settled instead, heavy and warm - like a soft blanket on a cold winter night. He leaned against the back of the twisted bench, staring up at the sky. The clouds stood still - like everything else in the eerily calm dream. "I'm scared," he whispered. "Of everything. Of being alone."

"You're not alone," Bill reassured instantly. "You'll never be alone again."

And it was true. Dipper hadn't had a thought to himself in years. Hadn't cried without a voice whispering in his ear. Hadn't fallen asleep without dreams handpicked for him — comforting, beautiful, laced with invisible threads. He didn't want to go back to being alone. 

And Bill — Bill stared just a little more intense now. Watching. Always watching. Dipper didn't mind anymore. He had gotten used to it over the years.

Bill had Dipper. He took care of him, he reassured him, he kept him 'sane'. Dipper needs Bill.  Like a child needs a parent. And Bill? Well, he loved the power of being in control. Of having something so loyal and dependent on him. Something no one else could have but him - Ford came close but then the teen had to return to his father's house and all he had was good ol' Bill. 

And if Sixer ever tried to take Pinetree from him this time, the old man would have to rip him from his cold, dead hands! Actually, that gives the little yellow shape an idea.

Chapter Text

Dipper tiredly slung his washed out brown backpack over his shoulder as he stepped off the bus. An energetic Mabel darted through the bus door ahead of  him. The old driver gives Dipper an exhausted nod before closing the doors and continuing his job. 

The air smelled like pine and damp grass. Like it always did. Two years hadn't changed that. Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica were there, crowding Mabel and talking about things they always talked about. Pacifica spared him a quick wave and smile before rejoining their oh so interesting conversation. Wendy was there too. She flicked his hat, like she always did. It was familiar. It was predictable. It was always the same thing when they came. Everything would be so amazing while they were there but as soon as they return home, Dipper's life goes back to being miserable. 

After a few minutes of letting the children catch up, Ford and Stan step in to greet their niece and nephew and take them to the Shack. 

Ford helped the brunet to settle into the small bedroom again and Stan helped Mable in the attic. Not many words were spoken but the atmosphere remained light and calm. Nonetheless, the older male could tell something was wrong. He assumed that Dipper's situation at home must've been getting worse over the past two years but even he didn't know the full extent of Dipper's suffering. 

The calls that used to come every few weeks had slowly faded into silence. When Dipper stopped answering, Ford hadn't pushed—not at first. But the boy's text replies had grown sparse and mechanical. — polite apologies, vague excuses, things Ford could see right through. Dipper was withdrawing bit by bit, and Ford recognized it far too well. He'd done the same in his youth, though not for the same reasons. Not because of fear or sadness or pain. With Dipper, it was different. And Ford couldn't help but wonder what exactly his nephew had been living through that made silence feel safer than connection.

By the time they had finished unpacking, the sun had already nestled beneath the horizon. The last of its orange hues filtered through the window with a soft glow. Ford smiled as he spotted two books on the desk — his gift from Dipper's fifteen birthday. He brushed his fingers over the worn cover. Dipper had never asked questions, never brought them up — but he'd read them. Ford could tell. There were highlights, notes, circled sentences — proof of the intense study and curious reviews. Maybe tomorrow, after Dipper's shift at the Shack, he could invite him to do something. Something small. Just the two of them. Just to remind him that he wasn't alone.

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Dipper groaned as he sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. What time was it? "Six o'clock," Bill answered. Right...He should start getting ready, he has morning shift at the Shack today. With another tired groan, he rolled out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom, his feet dragging slightly against the wooden floor. Hopefully, a cold shower would be enough to completely wake him. 

When he was finally finished getting ready, he found himself in the Shack — not bothering to get breakfast. The morning air inside the Shack was stale with the familiar scent of old wood, cheap wax figures, and whatever Mabel was cooking in the kitchen. The walls were littered in weird artifacts and messages — 'COME SEE THE SQUIRREL WITH HUMAN TEETH! THE WORLD'S MOST DISAPPOINTING GHOST RIGHT THIS WAY! BUY ONE CURSE, GET ONE FREE!'. Nothing ever really changed here, but maybe that was the goal.

Stan was already behind the counter, fumbling with the register. "You're early," he said, not looking up. Dipper forced a small smile, "Uh-huh." 

The day started like it always did — cobwebs to sweep, postcards to restock, and tourists to tolerate. Mabel appeared around mid-morning with Grenda and Candy behind her, all three wearing oversized sweaters that Mabel had probably knitted and talking a mile a minute about some new 'project'. Dipper nodded politely, half-listening, mostly keeping himself busy with restocking and helping tourists. This place was definitely getting more popular than the last time he was here. 

It went like that for the next couple of hours — he scanned tickets, answered stupid questions, reset the animatronic Bigfoot when it jammed for the third time. At one point, a kid started crying when the 'Screaming Skulls Room' got too intense, and Dipper had to escort him out with a half-hearted explanation about how "the skulls weren't real—probably."

He lost track of time, drifting in and out of thoughts he didn't want to have. Thoughts about home, and about how this place felt like an escape that would inevitably end soon. It was only when Wendy leaned over the counter around 11:30, tossing a water bottle at him, that he blinked back to the present. "Hey, space cadet. You good?" she asked, her usual smirk plastered across her lips.

Dipper caught the bottle, fumbled the cap open, and nodded. "Yeah. Just tired."

She raised an eyebrow but doesn't question him any further, "So, same as always, huh?"

He gave a half-hearted laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah. Pretty much."

As Wendy headed back to the register, Dipper ended his shift and headed to his room. 

The door clicked shut behind Dipper as he stepped into the room, a faint sigh leaving his lips. The room was bright, lit by beams of the hot midday sun that filtered in through the glass window. Dipper hadn't bothered to turn on the overhead light as he dropped his backpack onto the ground and carelessly discarded his hat. The bedframe squeaked as he fell face first into the mattrass — not bothering to turn on the fan. "You didn't eat again," Bill spoke as he appeared, voice light but his fingers twitched like he was already annoyed. "You're gonna shrivel up, Pine Tree. I like my humans sad, not skeletal."

The teen didn't look up as he sunk further into the mattress with a groan, "Not hungry." 

Bill sighed — dramatically, of course — and snapped his fingers. A plate with toast, scrambled eggs, sliced apples and a cup of juice popped into existence beside Dipper. "Up," he said. When Dipper didn't move, Bill poked his shoulder, "C'mon. Be good and eat. You'll feel better."

The boy sigh in response and finally rolled over to let Bill give him the floating tray of food. Dipper slowly took a bite. Then another. And another. The eggs tasted weird and the apples smelled like oranges, but Bill was right. He felt better.

"You work too hard for someone who gets paid in expired coupons and tourist complaints," Bill said, stretching out with the lazy elegance. "What would you even do without me?" Dipper didn't respond — he was too busy savoring the weird but delicious meal. 

When the brunet had finished eating, Bill eagerly clicked his fingers. A golden light engulfed the room. The floor stretched, the walls shimmered, and then suddenly the tiny bedroom was twice its size — warped into an open space of just air that the two floated in. "Let's play a game!"

"Bill, I'm not in the mood for one of your games." Dipper protested but Bill was already midair, floating upside-down and clapping his hands like a tv game show host. "That's an even better reason for us to play Pinetree! Welcome to 'Gravity Hop!' The rules are simple: the floor is not the floor, and physics are optional!"

Dipper looked around as a few tiles began to appear within the open void of space. "What is this?" 

"Training. Therapy. Bonding exercise." Bill gestured to the area around them before continuing, "Pick whichever excuse makes you feel better."

Dipper raised an eyebrow, "This isn't like last time when the game tried to eat me, is it?"

"No digestive mechanics this time," Bill promised, holding up one hand solemnly, "You just have to trust me."

Dipper raised an eyebrow and retorted sassily, "That's asking a lot."

Bill smirked, "And yet here you are. Anyway, ready?" Before Dipper could answer, the first platform appeared under his feet and lit up before launching him upward. He yelped as he landed on a floating panel across the room. "I hate this!" Dipper yelled as he leaped to the next spinning platform, arms flailing.

"You love this!" Bill yelled back. He can feel the boy's emotions and thoughts so he knew he wasn't taking it too far.

The game was ridiculous — tiles turning sideways mid-jump, disappearing and reappearing, panels that reversed gravity or launched him into low-orbital flips — but Bill guided him through it with shouted directions and smug commentary. Dipper had to think fast, trust his instincts, and, annoyingly, trust Bill.

He was breathless by the time he cleared the first round. His hair stuck to his forehead as sweat dripped down his face but he was grinning — ready for round two. "Not bad for someone with mortal knees," Bill teased as he hovered beside him with an infuriatingly proud tone. Dipper flopped onto one of the floating tiles and groaned. "You're addicted to winning, and you definitely cheated." 

Bill laughed, a sound that once terrified Dipper but now brought comfort, "Excuse you? I exploited available mechanics that were already within the system."

"Loopholes," Dipper commented.

"Creative strategy." Bill corrected. Dipper shook his head, laughing, as the tiles lit up again. 

"Want to go again?" The boy nodded and they played and played and played until a knock on Dipper's door interrupted them. In the blink of an eye, the room snapped back to normal — the platforms vanished, the lights dimmed, and Dipper fell out of the air landing on his backside with a loud thump. Bill laughed as the brunet shot him a glare of pain and slight annoyance.  From the other side of the door, Ford's voice was edged with concern, "Dipper? Are you alright in there?" 

Dipper winced, rubbing where he'd landed. "Yeah!" he called, his voice cracking slightly. "Just—uh—fell out of bed. I'm fine!" There was a pause. Then Ford's voice came again in a gentler tone, "Can I come in?"

Bill casually perched upside down on the top of the dresser with the intent to lazily watch the upcoming scene. "Yeah, just a second!" Dipper scrambled up, brushing any dust off his shirt and trying to steady his heartbeat. He turned toward Bill with a sharp whisper, "Go."

Bill placed his hand above his eye dramatically, "What? No 'thank you for the emotional stability'? No 'great game, Bill, you're the best chaotic lifeform I know'? Besides, he can't see me." Dipper gave him a look and with a dramatic sigh and a mocking salute, Bill faded into golden sprinkles of dust, vanishing just as the boy creaked open the door.

Ford stepped inside cautiously, giving the room a quick glance. It looked normal — maybe a little more messy than it had the previous night, but nothing out of place or weird. Dipper stood awkwardly by the bed, trying not to look like someone who had just fallen out of a floating obstacle course made of gravity-defying tiles. "Are you sure alright?" Ford asked, "That was a loud noise." 

"Yeah, I just got startled awake by your knock." Dipper lied — something he's getting way too good at. Ford's brow furrowed, but he didn't press. "I was thinking," he said, shifting the subject gently, "if you're up for it, there's a meteor shower tonight. I got the telescope up and running again. Maybe we could go watch together."

Dipper blinked. "Sure, that sounds good." 

Ford smiled, "Great. I'll meet you outside once you're ready. I'll bring some food since it's almost time for dinner." He turned and left with quiet steps, the door clicking shut behind him.

Dipper exhaled, long and slow. The room was still and quiet now. He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the spot where Bill had disappeared. 'Couldn't you put me down gentler?' A laugh echoed in his mind as he pulled on a thick jacket. 

"Where's the fun in that Pinetree? Plus, it's just a small fall." Bill replied telepathically. Dipper rolled his eyes in response but he wasn't actually upset, and he knew the dream demon knew that too. 

After getting changed, the brunet hurried outside and followed Ford to the edge of the forest. They spread a soft picnic blanket and set up the telescope before taking their respective plates of food. The air smelled like pine and wet dirt. They watched as sprinkling dots sparkled like silver jewelry against the gradients of purple, blue and dark green of the night sky.

Dipper didn't feel like he had to explain anything. Ford didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't press about his homelife. He just pointed out constellations and offered quiet facts, enjoying the time with his nephew. This was the main reason that Dipper liked Ford, the man cared to some extent and he didn't force Dipper to talk about things that made him uncomfortable.

Eventually, the two lay down on the blanket, arms behind their heads as they watched the sky with quiet satisfaction. "I've missed this," Dipper mumbled. What his great uncle had interpreted wasn't quite what he meant, but it was close enough.

"We've missed you too kiddo."

Chapter Text

Weeks passed. The world moved on as per usual. The first week after Mabel's confrontation with Dipper, the brunet had a bit of resentment for her blaming him. She acted like it was his fault, like he was the one who messed up. But he wasn't. And he wasn't going to let her walk all over him anymore. 

By the second week, the anger faded. In fact, he didn't feel anything toward her. Afterall, biology doesn't mean loyalty. 

Somewhere between the second and third week, Dipper and Bill sealed their friendship. Dipper hadn't spoken about the confrontation with Mabel, not with Ford, not with Stan, not even with Bill. He didn't know how he felt about it, but he pondered on it. The comforting scenery of the the forest and the beautiful full moon that glowed ever so slightly was all he wanted on his mind, yet he still felt... sad? Or was it anger? Confusion maybe? Whatever it was, he felt it. And it hurt almost as much as the time his father had broken his arm. What was he without his sister? That's when the words had left his troubled lips. "I don't want to be alone ever again." 

For Bill, that was more than an invite. It was perfect. The triangle appeared behind the teen with his hands on the boy's shoulders as he whispered "You don't have to be~" Right then and there a deal was made, Dipper's and Bill's friendship would be more than a thin string of a bond that held them together. Now, their lifeforces were tethered to each other. Dependent on the other. Now, Bill and Dipper were linked by more than just part of the boy's mind. 

It was... amazing. Dipper would never be alone for as long as he lives. Bill trusted him so much now that HE was the dream demon's weakness. It was manipulation. He could read the Bill's intention through the new connection. But it was different. Bill was just really possessive of him. And that was fine. It was fine because he cared. The boy could overlook it, it wasn't a big deal anyway. It was better than nothing.
Better than being used and discarded.
Better than being beaten up everyday. 
Better than being ignored.
Better than being humiliated.
Better than being lonely.

It was... exasperating! Bill had complete control over the boy! He knew the brunet would never break his trust, especially now that he deemed the dream demon as the only person he could trust beside Ford. No one could take his Pinetree from him now! No one would ruin his fun! He'll always have power over someone! No matter what. And soon he realized the deal was more than just a method of reassuring his toy. His precious Pinetree was now a portal back to the real world. 

With the new fusion, the boy acted as a third party. Since the universe now viewed them as one being and Bill was merely a part of Dipper, the triangle could literally be willed back into existence. Though, the complicated part is that Dipper would need to always subconsciously channel Bill into reality or he'd poof back to Dipper's mind. The best part was that Dipper's life was now connected to his meaning that not only was the boy unable to die from aging, but if Bill was to be 'trapped' in the mindscape again like he was 4 years ago, the boy would just bring him back again. The unfortunate part was that if Dipper died, he'd be permanently trapped in the mindscape without any link to the real world except his statue — which he can't even do anything from.

By the third week, the 16-year old was...okay. Happy even. He explored the forest again, helped Soos around the Shack even when his shift was over, made dinner with Stan, had tea with Pacifica, and made small talk as Ford and him conducted experiments. 

Ford was the first to notice. Of course he was. He was glad that Dipper was back to normal, or at least seemed not to be so depressed. He doesn't know what caused the shift but he assumed his little reassurances might have helped. Who knows? All that mattered was that his nephew was better. 

.

.

.

Sometimes Dipper wandered out late in the afternoon with a backpack slung over his shoulder, telling Ford that he was clearing his head or sketching mushroom rings in his journal since he didn't have nightmares or hallucinations anymore. It wasn't a lie. He just didn't mention his other half. His real other half  would be going with him.

Bill often strolled beside him like a friend as he occasionally glitched between space and time —Dipper already knew why. 

They pointed out anomalies in the trees.
They climbed boulders that buzzed faintly with Gravity Fall's weird energy.
They found a broken-down shack half-swallowed by moss and made up stories about it.
Bill taught Dipper how to control his dreams — when he slept, what he dreamt, when he woke up, how to access his own mindscape even while awake, everything.
It was fun.

.

.

.

Ford greeted him one morning with a half-raised brow as Dipper entered the Shack through the back door. His hair was damp with dew and his shoes muddy.

"Out early again?" The older man asked with a smile.

Dipper shrugged, brushing dirt off his sleeve. "Yeah. Just exploring."

Classic Dipper. Ford chuckled, "You've been spending a lot of time in the woods lately."

"It helps me think," Dipper replied, grabbing a towel to wipe his hands, "And it's quiet."

Ford nodded, "Fair enough." He hesitated, then sighed quietly. "It's good to see you more like yourself again. I was starting to worry."

Dipper paused, then a smile etched unto his face, "Yeah. Me too."

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.

.

Mabel, on the other hand, kept her distance.

After their last fight—could it even be called a fight?—she'd given him space. Every attempt she made had been met with cool, quiet rejection, and she couldn't tell anymore if he was just tired of her or if she'd really done something unforgivable. Why didn't her twin want her love anymore?

Part of her was angry.
Angry that he wouldn't just talk to her.
Angry that he could drop her like this, like she hadn't spent their whole lives being his person.

But another part of her... couldn't shake the way his eyes looked that day. They were so empty and cold and dull and... hopeless. 

So she gave up—at least for now. She still watched him from across the Shack, sometimes from the edge of the room. Saw the way he grinned faintly when Ford handed him a new artifact. Noticed the way he disappeared into the trees like something called him there. Spotted the way he accepted Pacifica's invitation for tea. Observed the way he helped Soos around the Shack if the man needed it. It wasn't fair. Her brother —though never initiating any of it— allowed himself to smile with others. 

He looked better. Happier. Healthier. So why does she feel worse?

Chapter Text

The following three weeks passed in a blur of cool mornings and hot afternoons. Gravity Falls buzzed with its usual weirdness, but for Dipper, the strangest thing now was how numb everything had started to feel.

He'd stopped trying to indulge in Mabel's plans like four years ago. It wasn't worth the energy. Instead, he'd just... show up late; stay on the outskirts; say as little as possible. She tried everything—movie nights, trail hikes, even inviting Candy and Grenda, but the Dipper who used to jump in with a smile or at least tag along for her sake was nowhere to be found. Mabel grew tense. Her smile cracked more easily. Her laugh was just a little too loud. She couldn't understand why Dipper was so different all of a sudden. "Dipper, you've been acting weird," she said one afternoon after trying to drag him to the pool. "Like, seriously. You barely talk to me anymore."

He shrugged, dully playing with a loose thread on his sleeve. "I've just been tired."

"Tired?" she repeated. "Of what? I mean, we're in Gravity Falls! You used to love it here."

"I guess things change," he muttered.

She blinked in confusion. "Okay... but you're acting like I did something wrong." Did she do something wrong? She can't think of anything she could've done to upset her brother. 

Dipper didn't say anything. He could feel her watching him, trying to pick apart his silence like it was some sort of code. But she couldn't. She couldn't because she didn't know him anymore.

That night, he sat at the edge of the roof — It had been a while since he was up there. The stars shimmered above, but his gaze was distant. A golden light flickered beside him and his best friend appeared. "Rough day, Pine Tree?" Bill drawled, laying upside-down on the shingles.

Dipper nodded. "Want to hear about when I ruled the Egyptians?" Dipper nodded again and listened as Bill ranted on and on. 

Every morning felt the same. Dipper woke up too early, shuffled through his routine like a machine, and worked his shift at the Shack with dull eyes and a forced smile. Mabel flitted in and out of his  day like a hummingbird—bright, loud, and insistent—but the warmth she used to stir in him was just... gone.

Ford noticed it. He watched his great-nephew one morning, jars in his gloved hands as he returned from the forest. Dipper was sweeping the porch in a uniformed motion, like his mind was a thousand miles away. The boy didn't even react when Mabel dropped a glitter-filled balloon near his feet and it exploded with a loud pop.

He didn't flinch — of course he didn't, Bill has popped out of no where so many times, something this small didn't frighten him. It didn't even seem to matter that he had to clean her mess up, or her profuse apologies. In fact, it was as though he didn't even notice. Stan worriedly grumbled something about 'teen mood swings.' But Ford knew better. He just didn't know how to reach through the wall that Dipper had quietly built brick by brick. 

They still worked on experiments together in the basement, catalogued anomalies, and exchanged theories. And one afternoon, while Dipper was adjusting a laser frequency emitter, Ford cleared his throat. "You've been... distant lately."

Dipper glanced up. "Just tired, I guess."

"You've always been driven, Dipper, even when you're tired." Ford leaned against the table. "I'm not forcing you but... is something wrong?"

Dipper hesitated. The words sat on the edge of his tongue, but something inside him just... didn't move. "I'm fine," he said. Ford nodded slowly, but the worry in his eyes didn't leave. Later that night, Dipper sat at the edge of the porch as he stared at the sky. 

"I know I'm not the easiest person to talk to or the most emotionally available," Ford commented as he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, "But... I want you to know, I care. You're not alone."

Dipper's fingers dug into the dirt, "I know." He wanted to tell Ford but even a genius like him had no idea how to form the words that would explain.            

Eventually Mabel got frustrated. She had had enough. "Okay, seriously," she snapped one afternoon in the living room after their shifts in the Shack. She had gotten Stan to convince Dipper to come out his room and scrapbook with her but Dipper just sat on the floor beside her reading a book. "What is wrong with you?"

Dipper didn't even look up from the page he was reading. "Nothing."

"Liar!" she shouted as she abruptly stood up, "You barely talk, you vanish all the time, and when I try to hang out, you just sit there like I don't exist!"

Dipper finally looked up. His eyes were dull. "I didn't know I had to entertain you."

Her face twisted. "You don't! I just—" She threw her hands in the air in exasperation, "I'm trying, okay? I don't know if I did something or what, and I'm sorry if I did but you can't just shut me out like this!"

"You didn't do anything." Dipper said flatly, "You just... weren't there."

Mabel stared. "What?" What did he mean? She was his sister! She was always there! She tried her best. She gave him space, stop forcing him to her 'girly' parties and stuff, tried to make sure he took care of himself, and now trying to bond with him and he has the audacity to say she 'wasn't there'?! What was he going on about? 

He stood up and walked past her.

"Wait—hey—!" She followed, shoving a picture into his hands. It was one that she had taken on their first day of high school. It was before their mother had died. Both twins had dark circles beneath their eyes from nightmares from Weirdmageddon but Dipper's eyes were duller than Mabel's — a result from his 'hallucinations'. Despite all of that, they both had a huge smile on their faces. "Just—just stop walking away and talk to me! I'm your sister, Dipper!"

He looked at the picture, then at her. Something flickered in his eyes. "Are you?" he asked. It wasn't cruel or mean, just very hollow. Mabel recoiled, "What the heck is that supposed to mean?!" She didn't receive a response as the picture was shoved back into her hands and the teen in front of her left to his room.

Dipper shut the door behind him and leaned against it. His heart thudded so fast in his chest that he felt numb. The picture burned in his mind. He'd forgotten how haunted he'd already looked, even back then. He didn't bother turning on the light. The fading sunset through the window painted long orange streaks across the cluttered room. In other words, it was bright enough. 

A yellow eye blinked open midair before the rest of Bill coalesced into shape, hovering above the brunet's left shoulder. "Well, well. That was intense," Bill drawled, voice smooth like melting butter. "I didn't take Shooting Star for the dramatic meltdown type." Dipper didn't answer at first. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, then slowly exhaled. "Am I doing the right thing?"

Bill spun midair in amusement. "Now that's a heavy question!"

"I don't know what I'm doing," Dipper muttered, barely louder than a breath. "She's trying, which is good, I guess? It's what I've wanted for a long time but now... I just can't bring myself to feel the same care that I used to." His voice trembled at the end. He hated admitting it out loud. It felt wrong. His sister neglected him for so long, yet only when they were in Gravity Falls did she finally reach out. When she wasn't busy with her friends. When she had time to spare or needed something. But the bottom line was that she was trying now... and he doesn't even care about it. He felt like a jerk! He was a jerk.

Bill's light flickered. He tried not read the boy's mind too much since he didn't need to anymore but this time it was necessary. "You think that makes you the bad guy?"

"I don't know," Dipper said. "I don't even know if I'm angry or sad or lonely anymore. I don't know what I'm feeling. I'm just exhausted and fed up and so so done with all of this! I don't even remember my favorite colour anymore! Everything's too much. I don't feel like myself. I don't feel anything yet I feel everything! I don't know what she wants from me. And I don't know what I want from her."

Bill floated closer, his voice quieter with an almost tender tone, "She wants the old Pinetree. The smiling, loyal, emotionally available version of you. But she shouldn't have the privilege to that anymore. Not when she's one of the reasons it's gone."

"She's upset," Bill continued, now circling the boy slowly like a predator. "So what? You're not wrong. You've been nothing but kind to her. Loyal. Patient. And what did she give you in return? Absence? Silence? Excuses?" Dipper's jaw tightened. "Now she wants you to open up like nothing happened," Bill continued, voice low and sly as a fox.

Dipper swallowed hard. "She's still my sister."

"Biology isn't loyalty," Bill countered immediately. He had no clue Shooting Star and his Pinetree had such a strong bond but it was time to put effort into severing it. He needs Pinetree dependent on solely him— Sixer was a slight exception, the small rift between them would have to work. "She wants forgiveness without understanding. That's not love, Pine Tree. That's convenience."

There was no rage in Dipper's expression, no tears. Just emptiness. He believed every word Bill fed him. Afterall, it was the truth. "She said I'm shutting her out."

"Of course you are," Bill said gently, now sitting beside him on the bed. "That's what people do when they've been hurt too much. When they've learned that vulnerability only gets them hurt."

"And look at you now," Bill continued as the teen listened. "You're finally safe. You're with people who don't hit you. As much as I despise Sixer, he cares about you. And I care about you, more than anything in this universe."

"I still care," Dipper said quietly, but it sounded like a question even to him.

"You want to care. Sure she's trying now. But where was that energy when you were rotting in that house? When your dad made you his personal punching bag and Mabel was off braiding friendship bracelets and taking selfies with her amazing friends?" Bill's voice dropped to bitter tone — how dare that little brat. She didn't deserve Pinetree's obsession nor his loyalty. "You don't have to forgive them just because they share your DNA, Pinetree."

"Okay." Dipper closed his eyes in resignation and acceptance.

The room fell quiet again. Outside, the trees rustled under a deepening violet sky. In the quiet, Dipper's breath slowed. "You're not the problem, Pinetree," Bill murmured, voice as steady as it was manipulative. "You never were."

The human just let himself breathe as something cracked in his heart at the words. Bill was right. He didn't owe Mabel anything.

Chapter Text

Orange hues filtered through the window as birds tweeted obnoxiously loud outside. The annoying birdsong and absurdly bright light repulsed Dipper's entire being. It was so damn early...

With a grumble, he lazily dragged himself out of bed, squinting against the light as he stumbled to the window. The curtains were aggressively yanked shut. He flopped back onto the mattress, hoping to fall asleep again, but of course, the universe despised him.

"Rise and shine birthday boy~" Bill's voice rang as his form slipped into reality, his eye glowing a calm gold. He hovered above the bed for a moment before phasing through the blanket when his Pinetree ignored him. "Come on Pinetree~ I got you something!" Dipper groaned loudly as he shielded his eyes as the bright yellow lit the darkness beneath his blanket. When Bill didn't make any attempt to move or at least turn the brightness down, he begrudgingly sat up.

The triangle's excitement spiked. It was almost tangible — an effect of their new bond. In a matter of seconds a large box appeared in the boy's hands.  "You couldn't wait a few more hours?"

The yellow entity simply chuckled in response, "And pass up annoying you? No way~ Now, go on. Open it!"  After a soft yawn, Dipper nodded and pulled the pretty blue ribbon, causing the sides of the box to fall. 

Inside the box was a peculiar sight: the severed head of a deer, its mouth gaping open. Nestled inside the bloody mouth was a gold watch, its face shaped like a triangle, with dark blue numbers that seemed to glow faintly. 

It was strange, but in a way it felt... fitting for a gift from Bill. Dipper picked it up and turned it over, running his hands over it with a small smile. He noticed how the hands spun anticlockwise. On the back his hand brush over an engraved message: "Tick Tock, kid. Eternity is ours." Dipper raised an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and amusement crossing his face. Only Bill would give a gift like this. 

After a few more moments of Bill rambling on about how time was a man-made concept and how he once made it winter for a decade in another dimension, Dipper slid the watch onto his wrist. It felt cold but it fit snuggly. He glanced at the strange, backward-ticking hands and shook his head with a tired smirk. "I'm going back to bed." 

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Mabel had gotten up early that morning. She was so excited—how could she not be? It was her birthday! She had been planning the decorations for weeks, and now the day was finally here.

The Shack was already buzzing with activity by the time she finished bathing and getting dressed. Some of the girls had even arrived early to help out. Pacifica and Candy were tying streamers and blowing up balloons, chatting and laughing as they moved around the living room. Grenda and Soos were outside on the porch, using the good ladder to hang the birthday banner. The "16th" had been hastily crossed out and replaced with a bold, red "17th."

In the meantime, Ford and Stan were attempting to bake a chocolate funfetti cake using the recipe Mabel had given them. It was a mix of both Mabel and Dipper's favorite flavors; funfetti and chocolate respectively. The result was... edible. A little lopsided, maybe slightly burnt at the edges, but it smelled good and tasted like cake, which was a win in Mabel's book. 

Around eleven o'clock, 2 hours before the party was to begin, Dipper finally came downstairs. Mabel perked up at the sound of his boots on the steps. He was wearing an orange and navy flannel, his usual pine tree hat, a pair of black jeans, and those almost worn out black boots. He greeted everyone with a small smile and a polite wave before heading straight for the door. No "Happy Birthday" no "Need help?". Just a 'hi' and gone. 

She blinked in surprise. "Where's he going?" she asked aloud, but no one had an answer, not even Ford. Though, no one seemed bothered or upset. 

An hour later, he returned—arms full with stuff for the party. A case of Pitt Colas tucked under one arm, and somehow balancing three stacked pizza boxes in the other. Mabel had to rub her eyes and look again. How in the world was he carrying all that without dropping anything?

He walked in casually, set everything down on the food table, and went to find Wendy. Mabel watched from the kitchen doorway as he spotted the redhead outside talking with Robbie. Instead of awkwardly backing away like he might've done years ago, he casually joined them. All three started chatting. Even Robbie didn't seem to mind—weird, considering how awkward things used to be between the guys.

Mabel just... watched. She couldn't remember the last time she and Dipper had actually talked like they used to. He smiled at Wendy and nodded along to something Robbie said. He looked relaxed. She forced herself to smile and turned back into the Shack. It was their birthday. Everything will be perfect.

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The party was going well. The Shack was filled with music, chatter, and bursts of laughter. Their friends mingled with other Gravity Falls' residents, and even the latecomers who'd gone home to change showed up again, full of energy. 

Ford and Stan had taken over the karaoke machine, yelling off-key 80s lyrics at the top of their lungs. It made her question if they had inhaled an entire pack of Smile Dip. Soos and Melody waddled in with arms full of handmade presents, grinning from ear to ear. Wendy and Robbie showed up not long after, each carrying a wrapped gift — hers in forest-green paper, his in matte black. Robbie wore a dark purple hoodie, slouching just a bit beside Wendy, who looked effortlessly cool in a fitted leather jacket over a teal shirt. A few minutes later, Pacifica made her fashionably late entrance in a flowing lavender summer dress, strutting in like the star of her own runway, two shimmering gift bags dangling from her hands like a fashion statement.

Mabel flitted from person to person, her usual sunshine energy lighting up the room. But as the minutes passed, something began to nag at her. A feeling she couldn't quite shake. Where was Dipper?

She started to ask around. Grenda mentioned he'd helped her and Soos set up tables earlier. Candy said he'd complimented her earrings. Wendy swore she'd high-fived him when she came in. Everyone had seen him. Everyone had spoken to him. Everyone except her.

At one point, Pacifica mentioned, "Didn't he just walk past you a few minutes ago? He had stopped by the drinks table next to you. I thought you two were talking." and Mabel nearly choked on her soda. What?! She hadn't seen or heard him at all. How could he have been so close without her even noticing? "O-Oh. Okay, Thanks!"

She scanned the crowd again, but still nothing. Her chest tightened, a knot of frustration forming in her stomach. Is this what Dipper meant? Did she unintentionally ignore him this entire time? Or is he avoiding her?

Then Stan called out over the music, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright, alright! Time to open the presents!" Everyone crowded around the table excitedly. Mabel took her seat with a strained smile, hoping Dipper would show up now. That maybe he'd sit beside her like old times.

And finally, he did.

He came forward from somewhere in the crowd. He really was here the entire time... The teen walked over without a word and stood beside Ford, hands in his pockets and eyes half-lidded with that unreadable calm he always wore these days.

Their eyes met. No smile. No words. Just a slight nod before he looked away.

Stan and Ford took their places behind the long table. Each set of gifts were handed out together, one for Mabel and one for Dipper, from the same person. The giver's name was called out loudly like a gameshow. Some gifts were for both of them. It was fun and goofy.

Soos and Melody gave her a sparkly scrapbook filled with Mystery Shack stickers and doodles. Mabel squealed and hugged him tight as thanks. She looked over to see that her brother had gotten a wooden picture frame with a collage of multiple places in Gravity Falls. The brunet gave Soos and Melody a smile and thanked them. Not the smile from when they were kids but so damn close it almost fooled her.

As the gifts kept coming, she watched him closer. He didn't seem disappointed, but his happiness felt... different. Not forced but not real either. No one else seemed to notice so maybe she was overthinking? Her brother was quiet and calm. He was kind. He said thank you to everyone. He laughed at Stan's awful jokes. He made small talk with Ford about the artifact the man gave him. He accepted Pacifica's fancy tea set with a polite nod. He smiled at Wendy's and Robbie's black, wooden coffee mug.

When they had finally opened the rest of the gifts, which she realized started to get simpler for Dipper — things like socks and stationary— though Dipper kept a polite and calm smile on his face, she decided it was time to give him her gift. She handed it over with both hands, heart thumping. "I made it myself," she said quietly.

Dipper opened the box and pulled out the sweater she'd knitted: soft blue and white, with tiny pine trees stitched into the sleeves. The same pattern she'd used when they were kids. Just... bigger now and much neater.

He stared at it for a moment, then looked up. "Thanks," he said softly.

That was it. No hug. No joke. No smile.

Before she could say anything else, he slid a gift across the table to her.

"You got me something?" she asked, startled. He nodded.

Inside the box was a set of glitter gel pens and fancy scrapbooking tools— the exact set she'd pointed out to her friends a few months ago but never brought up again. It was too expensive for her to even think of buying herself or asking their dad. Dipper probably had to work his butt off to buy this or used his savings... Plus, he must've bought them before they even got to Gravity Falls.

Her eyes widened, heart fluttering. A smile broke across her face, genuine and full of hope. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe things between them weren't as broken as she thought. Maybe he'd just been upset and now they were finally okay again. "You remembered..."

But when she looked up, those hopes came crashing down again. Dipper was already looking away, turning his wrist slightly and fiddling with something she hadn't noticed before.

A gold, triangular watch. It reminded her of Bill and she needed to focus on calming her breathing for a moment. How did it not freak Dipper out? After the whole PTSD stuff a few years ago... How was he okay with a gold, triangular watch?!

That's when Wendy noticed it too. "Whoa, what's that watch?" she asked, pointing at the gold triangle-faced timepiece on Dipper's arm. "Looks cool."

Pacifica leaned in. "It's ticking backwards and a triangle of all shapes? That's not normal."

Mabel blinked. Wait—what? She looked closer. Pacifica was right... It was moving anticlockwise. 

Dipper glanced at it and gave a small grin. It was like the one from when they were kids. The kind of grin he used to have when he'd found a secret in the woods. She knew it! The smile he's been dishing out to everyone was off.

"It's a gift from a friend," he said, still smiling as he played with the strap.

"No one here got you a watch," Wendy replied, curious but careful not to push any boundaries. She's never been too personal. "Someone from back home?"

Dipper nodded, "Yeah. He's... my other half. Best friend, I guess you could say. He's into weird stuff like this. Actually I think he made this one himself."

Pacifica chuckled. "Sounds like someone who gets you. Can't wait for you two to introduce him sometime."

Mabel's mouth stayed shut. Her fingers curled around the glitter pens in her lap. Other half? He'd never even mentioned this person. Not once. Yet, he seemed so proud of this friend.

Later that evening, after most of the gifts were opened and most of the guests had already left, Mabel sat on the couch and watched her brother talk with Soos and Melody. He looked... fine. Happy, even.

And somehow, that made her feel worse because it wasn't because of her.

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The bus was at the bus stop just after sunrise, its headlights cutting through the morning fog. Mabel adjusted the strap of her duffel bag, blinking slowly at the sight of the bus. Her eyes were droopy—she'd definitely stayed up way too late after the party. Dipper didn't look tired at all, though she knew he'd slept even less, having stayed up to clean long after everyone else had gone to bed.

Ford handed her a paper bag with snacks and patted her on the shoulder. She hugged him tightly in response, already missing the place. Stan grumbled something about "not causing trouble in Piedmont" as she hugged him too — sniffling quietly when he thought no one was watching.

Dipper stood beside Ford, his bag slung over one shoulder, sipping coffee from a dented old thermos. She had seen Stan make it for him earlier that morning. When it was time to board, Dipper gave Ford a long hug and a shorter one to Stan. Then he turned and climbed the steps onto the bus. Mabel waved a little longer than she meant to, but followed after her brother. 

When they got to their usual seat, Mabel slid into her spot, expecting her twin to do the same but he suddenly paused. For a second, it seemed as though he was about to sit before he changed his mind abruptly and he took the seat in front of her. 

The door of the bus closed then it rolled forward, taking them away from Gravity Falls. Away from the Shack. Away from their Grunkles and friends. Dipper stayed silent as he watched the trees go by. His fingers toyed absent-mindedly with the weird golden watch on his wrist. He looked calm and disassociated — his mind somewhere else entirely.

So Mabel didn't say anything. She watched the back of his head for a while, then let herself drift off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Dipper fished his keys from his pocket as he got home. His hair and clothes were drenched in rainwater and his shoes covered in mud. If it wasn't for Bill keeping him warm, he'd probably be shivering too. He adjusted his backpack as he pushed the door open.

It was quiet... Too quiet. No random tv show being played. No loud, annoying snores. No clanking of beer bottles. Was that old bastard still at work? He peeked back out the door hoping not to see the sorry excuse of a car in the driveway. Unfortunately it sat right where it should've been.

With a deep breath, Dipper wiped his muddy shoes on the doormat — not wanting to make too much of a mess since he'll be forced to clean later anyway. He avoided the few floorboards that creaked, knowing it was useless. With how quiet this place was, something had to have happened. If his sperm donor was home, then he was definitely waiting for the boy.

His back stinged from his hoodie clinging to it. It still hadn't fully healed from last week when a hot pan was pressed against it as a punishment for telling his 'father' to off himself. He had to give the man a point for creativity though.
The time before that had been the buckle of a belt. It had hit him right in the eye, and his best friend was the only reason he wasn't half blind.
Before that was the living room's lamp. It was his mother's favorite so that had angered him a bit. Words were exchanged, cough Dipper told him he was a deadbeat waste of oxygen cough, which lead to the teen being held down as beer was forcefully and vigorously poured down his throat — choking him repeatedly. That day he learned that he hated beer.
Before that was a knife. The man was already waiting when he got home. Seeming deranged as he wrestled against the brunet. He screamed how 'sorry' he was and how it was for the 'best'. Dipper's life had flashed before his eyes, yet that had started to become a norm.
Before that was rat poison. It was 'mysteriously' mixed with his cereal and Bill's warning was the only reason the boy hadn't eaten it. Never again would he eat anything from that house.
And the list goes on; a pillow, the tv remote, the fan cord, a wire hanger, a plate, whatever was in reach.

Dipper had gotten used to it in a way. Resist? Get hit harder. Endure? Still get hit. So he'd stopped thinking he could win. But that didn't mean he just surrendered. No, it meant he resisted more. He sneered an insult every chance he got — even voicing some of Bill's. It wasn't because he was brave. He just didn't care that he'd be hit more. In the past, he'd just take it quietly and run to his room as soon as he could. But he couldn't win either way. He couldn't escape either way. So why try to escape? Why not torture that monster back? If the wounds were severe Bill usually helped afterward, so it's not like he would die. Though, the dream demon never fully healed him. Something about pain being hilarious and building character? Whatever, Bill knows best.

Mabel didn't notice. She always came home late. Sometimes he thought about telling her. Just saying, "Hey, Dad hit me again." But he didn't. What was the point? She never asked. She had her friends. Her jokes. Her popularity. So he kept it to himself.

Well... not entirely to himself.

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It was another normal night. Get his butt beat by a drunkard. Lock himself in his room. Finish his homework. And now for the best part, hang out with Bill.
The triangle loomed over his right shoulder, flickering between mindscape and reality. They had both gotten used to him glitching.

"Sloppy dodge, Pinetree." the dream demon muttered as he laid upside-down on the boy's shoulder. "You should've went left. I told you left."

"Wouldn't make make much of a difference." Came Dipper's response as he rose his shirt to reveal the slightly red area on his side. In a few hours it'll start turning a mix of dark red and purple with a greenish outline. It's happened so much that he just knew. In a week or two it'll be fully gone. Bill hummed in agreement, satisfied that his pinetree knew what he wanted to see. "You're getting better at reading my wants through the deal." Dipper smiled. He was happy to have a friend like Bill.

Training began shortly after that interaction. They trained one night per week, when the door was locked and he was certain neither Mabel nor his tormentor would bother him. He practiced how to keep the triangle tethered to reality. He had to focus on the feeling. At first, he didn't understand the logic behind it which made it harder. But with Bill's guidance he eventually figured it out. It was still difficult to maintain for long, especially when he felt tired, distracted, or injured.

However, just as Bill had said, the longer he did it, the easier it became. When he really REALLY focused, Bill wouldn't flicker for a whole minute! Sometimes he'd get discouraged. If he could barely do it while putting his entire focus into it, then how would he ever be able to continually do it in normal circumstances?! Bill usually reassured him whenever those thoughts plagued his mind, but it didn't stop him from occasionally spiraling. And to be honest, he feels as though Bill enjoys seeing him spiral... Literally, he can feel it through the deal. But it's fine because he likes to see Bill suffer too. Like when the triangle gets all embarrassed when he suddenly changes from yellow to neon pink with purple and green sparkles. Or when Dipper focuses into making him flicker into reality while Bill is phasing through something. It's absolutely hilarious!

School was a blur. No one really paid him much mind. Whenever they did, it was for a cheap laugh or a whispered insult or to ask something about his sister. Teachers didn't ask if he was okay though there were obvious signs that something was wrong. He could tell. He may not be able to read minds but he saw the way they looked at him when no one wanted to be his partner for a project, or when he showed up late with a bruise on his face, or when his test grades would fluctuate randomly, or when he'd accidentally talk to Bill aloud. They didn't ask so he didn't even have to lie.

About 6 or 7 months after they had returned from Gravity Falls is when it happened. It happened so quickly that Dipper hadn't even realized his entire life was about to change.

It was late, and Dipper had come back from school a little later than usual due to having to return a book at the school library. His father was waiting for him. He was drunk, as usual, and seemed to be pissed.

This time was different from usual though. There was something wrong with the man's tone. It wasn't as slurred as usual. It wasn't constantly shifting between guilt, sadness, and anger. It wasn't as loud or cold.

It started the same. Dipper got home. He got yelled at and hit for his father losing his job again. He fought back, shouting insults and keeping a distance. But the argument didn't last long. It spiraled so fast.

First came the bottle from the man's hands. It missed but shattered against the wall, beer staining the paint. Then came his fists, colliding against his son's head. Dipper smashed into the wall, another fist colliding with his stomach. His body bent forward as he collapsed onto the floor. The man grabbed him by his hair and forcefully pulled his head upwards to punch him again. Where did his cap go?

Eventually, his father let go. Dipper thought it was finally the end. It usually was when his father retracted his fists and drop him to the floor. But oh how wrong he was. As soon as he managed to pull himself up, he was grabbed by the throat and slammed back onto the floor. It hurt so damn much... But the man didn't release.

After about a second or two of his mind going blank from the pain overload, his hands instinctively raised to the fingers branding his neck as he clawed at them. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing but a deformed gasp came out. Tears pricked his eyes as he pounded against the man and clawed at his tormentor's face. It helped once, he was able to get a gasp of air before the pressure increased tenfold. Damn...it...

It was like trying to hold down a feral cat. Dipper scrapped and clawed at anything — his father's face, the hand around his throat, the floor. But it was no use. He kicked as much as he could as he gasped desperately for air. Yet, no use. His tears trailed rapidly down his face, and his now stuffy nose wasn't helping his situation. In a matter of seconds, his vision started to blur as he frantically look around for some means of escape. As quickly as his restless fighting had started, it slowed down. Oh how he wish Bill was here...

Then he was. A glitch of yellow in a distance— or maybe close? He couldn't tell. He could barely think. 'Bill! Help—! Plea...se...'

The triangle enjoyed the pain on his pinetree's face. But only he should ever have this kind of power over Dipper. He wanted to help, really. But he couldn't. He was in the mindscape and no matter how much he scream at the teen to bring him to reality, the ringing in the boy's ears and head prevented the message from getting through.

. . . But he was glitching in and out of reality right now. He had to try. If his pinetree died, then he'd be permanently gone. He darted across the room as Dipper's eye became duller and his motions slowed further. After multiple attempts to push the bottle towards the brunet, he finally glitched into reality at the right moment and the bottle rolled into the boy's leg. "Come on Pinetree! Use it! Before he kills you kid!" Dipper didn't hear him, but he fainting felt the bottle collide against him, the jagged edges scratching him through his pants. Without a single thought, his hand scrambled to get it — though it wasn't that fast. He couldn't make out anything much but he could see the blurry figure above him that was responsible.

When the man raised him slightly to slam him against the floor again, Dipper buried the jagged edge of the bottle into his father's exposed side. When the pressure somehow increased more, he didn't let go. He pushed it as far as he could as the man yelled slurs and insults. Then he twisted. With a wail off pain, the hand released and Dipper was able to squirm his way out. A relatively bright red began to drip onto the floor before it slowly got darker. It dyed the shirt his father had on and probably stained the floor too. But Dipper wasn't focused on any of that. Nor was he focused on the way the man started to get dizzy. Nor the way the man fell when he tried to get up to chase the boy. Nor the way the man seemed to be panting for air. Nor the fact that the man didn't hear him stagger away.

No, Dipper was more focused on catching his breath and getting to his room. His vision was still extremely blurry, and he was gasping for any sort of air that he could get. He could barely walk — he's surprised he could with how much his head throbbed. He tried calling for Bill, but his mind was such a mess and his voice was so hoarse that even Bill couldn't properly hear him. His neck was already forming a large bruise, he could tell from how sensitive it was when he touched it. Halfway to his room, he doubled over to paint the floor with his half digested lunch. Then everything went silent and he collapsed.

The next time he opened his eyes was in a hospital. Why was he here? Where was Bill? Why did his neck hurt so much? Why does his head feel like it was hit with a sledge hammer? That's when it hit him like a brick. His father almost killed him. He almost died... Bill saved him. Bill saved his life! He could've been... His heartrate picked up and a nurse had to come to calm him.

A police officer came next to question him about what happened, but his voice sounded so strained that he barely got a few words out. Apparently, his father had called an ambulance for the puncture in his side. What a wimp. However, when the doctors saw how much blood he was loosing and why, they had to report it to the police.

At first, his father was questioned and as expected, the story was drastically twisted from reality. Though, when they found Dipper's limp body afterward when the police searched the house, an investigation begun. The house, the way the bottle was stuck into the man, the scrape marks on the man's hands and arms, the faint blood stains between the floorboards that Dipper couldn't properly clean, the broken furniture, the multiple cases of beer in the pantry, the smell of alcohol embedded into the sofa, the healing bruises and very evident signs of strangulation on Dipper, all told a different story.

Welfare was contacted for both Mabel and Dipper. He had no clue if she even knew what was going on. After all, she had gone out somewhere with her friends as usual and he hadn't seen her since lunch. But in the end, welfare didn't take him. Why? Because he injured a nurse. They thought the abuse made him unstable. Traumatized. But it was an accident! He wasn't crazy... well, not in that sense. A nurse had come to put some sort of medical ointment on his neck but when her hands touched his neck... it was... he felt endangered, she looked like his father. Like the man that tormented him. She loomed over him just like he always did. Her hand was on his neck! Who's to say she wouldn't have done the same as he did?! He didn't mean to hurt her! He's not crazy! But... it was just so similar... he didn't mean to. Really! He didn't! He didn't mean to push her away so harshly! He didn't mean for her to slip on the tile or for her to hit her head so hard! He didn't mean to make him lose his sight... He didn't mean to tell him... He didn't mean to ignore everyone. He didn't mean to argue with his sister! He didn't mean for any of this to happen! None of this should have happened! Not weirdmageddon. Not the hallucinations. Not what happened to his mother. Not the arguments. Not the abuse. Not the fight with his father. Not this! Not—It's not his fault! He's not mentally unstable!

Not long after that, he lost consciousness again. Then he woke in another hospital. Not one for healing wounds. This one was for the sick. The sick in the head. A psychiatric facility. Dipper hated it. He wasn't insane... He was fine! Wasn't he?

The room he stayed in was too white. It was all he saw. White walls, white ceiling, white floor, white bed, white gown, white white white! Then there were those fake, lopsided smiles. It was ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! He didn't belong here. Their stupid soft voices and hesitant movements pissed him off even more. He wasn't some piece of glass that would shatter at any slight problem. He's dealt with so much in his life! He didn't need this. He didn't need them!

At first he tried to at least cooperate, despite Bill's disagreement. Maybe then they'd let him out sooner. Realize he isn't crazy. But when they wrote down his problems in red ink and glanced between each other like he was delirious when he mentioned his past, is when he realized that Bill was right. They'd never believe him. He never should've said anything. And he never did again. He didn't answer their stupid questions. He didn't befriend the other 'mentally unstable' kids. He didn't drink the weird pills they tried to feed him. He wanted nothing to do with them or with this torturous place.

He didn't feel bad when he fractured that nurse's wrist. It was her fault! Who tries to force pills down someone else's throat? Aren't they professionals? It's her fault. Not his. What was he supposed to do? Just let it happen? Heck no! He didn't like consuming things unless he saw where they came from. Not anymore. Not after the beer. Not after the dog food. And he definitely didn't feel bad when he threw the bottle of pills back into the nurses face. It was funny how she scrambled back like a frightened cat.

Sometimes he'd spiral. He'd start thinking about how wrong his life had gone. Bill helped him though. He taught him a cute little rhythm and he's done it daily ever since: hold, tap, hold, tap, pause, tap, hold, tap, pause, tap, hold, pause, hold, hold, tap, tap, pause, hold, tap, hold, hold. He hated being interrupted while doing it because he'd have to start over again.

"Hey, Dipper. It's time for group talk." a worker said through the door before opening it. The teen didn't respond immediately. He just smiled — way too wide, displaying almost all his teeth. It was unnerving. "Sorry, can't today. I'm a bit... tied up at the moment." Where'd he get rope from? How'd he tie his hands together?! The nurse rushed over to release him as he laughed at his 'joke'. It wasn't a forced laughter. It was light and joyful, like a child playing with their friends. When he was free, she confiscated the rope and jotted something down on her clipboard. His smile dropped. That was funny. Why didn't she laugh. "Amateurs." He muttered to Bill.

Dipper and Bill trained a lot more, after all he was much more free now than back in that house. He had Bill. Bill was... everything. The only normal person in this entire place! The only person he could trust. The only one that cared. He was getting better. After a few months of practicing for hours daily in that place, Dipper didn't have to focus as much anymore. Bill didn't glitch much anymore and sometimes he'd spend the entire night with Dipper without a single glitch. Though, now he had to practice pulling Bill fully into the mindscape at will. He thought it wouldn't be that difficult since he mastered keeping the triangle tethered to reality but he was wrong. It took him another couple months to master that too. Though. a year and a half was all he needed to fully master bringing, removing and keeping Bill tethered to reality. He also got better at going into his mindscape when the doctors were yapping too much. They said he was 'dissociating' which technically was true, just not in the way they thought.

He also refused to eat the food they tried to feed him. The snacks from the vending machines were fine. They were sealed. But the food they'd bring in those trays? No way. He was certain they'd put pills in it, or poison. Who's to say they didn't want to get rid of him?
There was one worker he'd learn to tolerate. She was nice. She didn't whisper behind his back or tried force feeding him or told him he's crazy. Though, sometimes she was too nice. It felt like she was pretending. She probably was...
One day she finally spoke up. Was she worried? No, no. It was just her job. Yeah, that's all. "Dipper, you haven't touched your tray again." Her sweet tone was sickening. It sounded berating. Dipper hated it. "You'll get sick. You need to eat more than a bag of chips." The teen stared up at her blankly, "Did you poison it? No... You wouldn't do that. Did they poison it? Be honest." She blinked in confusion. She wasn't a doctor. Her job was just to take care of his wellbeing. "Of course not." She replied after a few seconds.
"Hm." Dipper turned to look back at the meal. "Liar." He didn't eat it, as usual.

Days started to blur together. They use to sometimes let him outside with the other patients. That was before he tried escaping — he had almost succeeded too, which is why they don't let him outside anymore. 'For his own good' they said.
His memory was all messed up too. Bill and the doctors explained that it had something to do with how much trauma he'd gone through. So it had to be true. He'd forget things — small things at first like where his hat was or the name of the nice nurse or if he brushed teeth yet. Then he started to forget more important things, like his sister's name, or his mother's face. His lost in memory wasn't the issue though. He could always go back through them. Bill showed him how. All he needed to do was enter his mindscape and watch them. The problem was that sometimes he remembered certain memories — the traumatic ones — too vividly. Any time he experienced something similar or in relation to one of his 'traumas', he'd lash out, feeling as though he was in those moments again. It was horrid... until it wasn't.

Eventually, his sense of humor got better too. It was hilarious how pathetic the patients looked when they broke down during group therapy. He didn't mean it in a cruel way, he wasn't sadistic. It's just... the way their faces scrunched up. The wailing and snot. It was... ridiculous, no? He didn't know why the doctors would look at him like that. Or why they'd pull him in a corner and talk about 'healthier ways to cope'. He'd just dully stare after that. It was funny though. Right? Of course it was. Bill found it funny.

One day he got worried—No. No, it wasn't worry. Curiosity maybe? Yeah, curiosity. He asked Bill to find out what happened to Mabel. He'd hoped that they didn't leave her with that psychopath of a father. If they did, he'd genuinely feel sorry for her. She'd have to deal with their father's drunken madness, especially now that Dipper was no longer there. She'd be bound to get severely hurt, or be thrown fully into depression.
No one visited him. No one called. Not Mabel. Not Ford. Not Stan. No one. But he'd heard the nurses carrying patients into other rooms — rooms that he had never gone into. They'd whisper quietly that someone came to see them or that there was a call for them. So that meant his family hadn't known what happened to him, right? That's why they didn't visit. Or Mabel was still with their father so she couldn't visit him. Surely his family cared even a tiny bit to at least leave him a message. But over the eons that he'd been trapped in there, no one reached out for him. But that fine, because they didn't know... they couldn't have... right?
Those thoughts vanished when Bill returned to tell him that the Welfare took her from their father and she now lives with Sixer and Fez. That meant that they had to have known, right? Yes, they had to have known. Why didn't they visit? Because they don't care about him. They probably were happy. Mabel probably was happy. Didn't they love him? Only in the past. They couldn't care less if his father had actually killed him.
That's okay though. They don't care. If they cared, they would've come. They didn't. End of story. Maybe they were better off without him. He was surely better off without them.

Who cares if his memory was too vivid sometimes? Or if he'd need to rewatch his memories?
Who cares if he liked tapping a small rhythm to ground himself? Or if he refused to talk about his trauma? Or if he had 'unhealthy coping habits'?
Who cares if he was 'paranoid' or 'traumatized'? Or if he was 'delusional'? Or if he was 'schizophrenic'? Or if he lost track of time?
And who cares if he'll burn this place to the ground one day so those people would regret keeping him locked up like an animal and he can laugh as they wail in pain for calling him crazy? Who cares?
Not him. None of it bothered him. None of it mattered. He was fine. Bill said he was fine. Bill was always right. Bill was perfect. He was perfect. 

Chapter Text

Mabel groaned as she tugged on her shoes, hopping on one foot to try and keep balance. "Ugh, I'm gonna be late again," she muttered as she yanked open the door and darted outside. She'd slept in again. Forgot to charge her phone. And, to top it all off, she'd left her purse inside on the kitchen counter. Great.

She'd barely remembered halfway through her first class, but there was nothing she could do then, and she figured Dipper would lend her a few bucks anyway. He always did. Even though they rarely talked, he was always reliable.

Later, at lunch, she finally caught him sitting alone at a desk in the corner of the cafeteria. She plopped beside him, putting on her usual sunshine smile. Her brother was seemingly lost in his thoughts until he felt her bright presence.

"Hey, bro-bro. Guess who forgot their purse?" she said with a teasing nudge. "Hint: It's me."

Dipper didn't laugh, but he did pull out a pealing wallet from his pocket and slid it over to her. "Here," he muttered. "Just give it back whenever you reach home."

"Aw, you're the best, Dip!" she said with a giggle and slung her arms around him. "You're a lifesaver."

He looked away. She had gotten used to his behavior. He didn't hate her. She didn't do anything horrid. That was proven with the birthday gift he had worked hard to get her. Which only meant that they were all good now! He was probably just stressed from school or he's just developing a new personality as he ages! They're almost adults so that's most likely it. She was certain. That HAD to be it. Right? Her brother didn't hate her. Dipper would never hate her... Right? No. Certainly not. Oh how wrong yet right she was.

She didn't think much of it at the time as she head back to her friends' table but that was the last time she saw him for a very very long time.

That afternoon, she ended up staying way too late at a cafe with her friends. Everyone had been talking about the upcoming school trip and finals, and one meme that spiraled into a full conversation about raccoons and vending machines. Time slipped past her, like it always did when she was with people who made her laugh. No texts. No calls. Her phone had died sometime after third period and she hadn't really noticed. Plus, she had Dipper's wallet, so there was no rush to go home. She'd pay him back later.

It was only when she got home as late as usual, did she see the yellow tape and police cars piled in front her house. Did something happen? Was Dipper okay? Was her dad okay? What was happening?
The front door was wide open, but it was too dark to properly make out anything. She could see drops of blood on the ground leading to the door. And she could see the bustling officers inspecting the place. She could see the neighbors peeking out from their yards down the street. And a few neighbors — their immediate ones — were being questioned about something.
Her smile completely disappeared when a welfare and a police officer approached her. And just like that, her whole world was turned upside down. For better or for worse? She didn't know yet.

Her grunkles ended up coming for her in the Stanmobile. They stayed with her until she could've gotten her stuff and then they took her to Gravity Falls. This time however, it was to live, not for a summer vacation. She wasn't told much for the first few months.
She was told there had been an incident that made both her brother and neglectful father end up in a hospital. Dipper and her father had gotten really hurt due to it. Furthermore, Dipper had showed major signs of PTSD too. The welfare officer told her that they put him in a mental hospital to help him with that PTSD and trauma.
She had therapy too but apparently Dipper's was next level or something. Whatever it was, it sounded serious at first but her grunkles reassured her that he was just getting some help is all.
She was also told that her father was placed in prison. What for? She had no clue, but she figured it must've been for child neglect or alcohol abuse.

She tried to ask her grunkles but they were as vague as the officers. Grunkle Stan ruffled her hair and told her Dipper was getting the help he needed. Ford made her tea and said it was just therapy and he'd be fine.

They downplayed it. All of it. She could tell. The adults were scared. She was scared. For Dipper. For her new life. But they didn't want to scare her more. They didn't want to make her spiral or to trigger her. Apparently something triggered her brother and something bad happened. She wasn't sure exactly what but she knew that much.

Ford and Stan were worried. What if Mabel had gone through something too? What if there was trauma buried deep down that she didn't even realize? Or that she suppressed? They didn't want to risk it.

But she hadn't. Sure her father was neglectful — not caring what she did or say. And sure it hurt but she resolved it during her mandated therapy sessions. It made her wonder what had really happened to Dipper that made them so afraid to speak freely to her. She'd been out of the house most of the time. Parties. Clubs. School events. Her friends had always been her escape — her distraction. She didn't even know half of what went on inside those walls and only now was she realizing it. She felt awful. Clearly her brother went through something bad and as his sister, she should've been there for him. She was a horrid sister. No wonder he was so distant. It wasn't a 'personality change', nor was he upset about something she did. It was what she didn't do. What she failed to notice.

At first, she wasn't allowed to contact or visit him. Though, she had been itching to do so. She was told that for the first few months, until he's properly settled in, they wouldn't allow outside visitors. But she overheard Grunkle Stan on the phone one night. They were updating him on the progress. That's when she learned that it wasn't simply 'therapy'. She should've known. She couldn't gather much, but she could gather that something was wrong with Dipper and it was much more than just the one incident she was told about.

She had tried calling the hospital after that. She had to snoop around a bit and she got her hands on the name of the institution and found a number online. Multiple times did she try to get through, only once did someone pick up. Though, as soon as they heard the name of the patient, the call was ended. She had to wait until this 'no contact' period was up. After a while, she figured that she was probably overthinking it. Maybe what she heard that night wasn't the whole story? She had only gotten bits and pieces after all. What if she misunderstood it all? Her grunkles wouldn't keep something this serious about her LITERAL BROTHER from her, right? And if they did, they'd tell her soon. Plus, Dipper was in the hands of professionals. Whatever it is, he'll be fine soon.

She figured maybe it was like...a mental cleanse. A break from the world. That sounded fair. He'd been through something big. Whatever it was, it seemed big. He probably needed it.
Her Grunkles said he was fine. Recovering. That they'd hear more soon. So she waited.

For the first few months, she typed out messages on her phone but didn't hit send. Things like:
'Hey, hope you're doing okay. I miss you.'
'Today was weird without you. I still have your wallet.'

But she figured he probably didn't have his phone. He was in a hospital after all. His phone probably wasn't allowed. And what if he was too tired to read them? What if it just made him feel worse?
So she didn't send them.

Time passed. She adjusted to life with her Grunkles. She started crafting again. Helped Ford catalog a few things. Went to parties. Made new friends. Kept busy. Too busy. Again.
By the time she was allowed to contact him (still not allowed to visit.), she had started to make excuses. Not on purpose, but subconsciously she still did it.

She told herself he needed space. He hated her. She was an awful sister. She didn't deserve to bother him when he was recovering. Eventually, the excuses morphed into procrastination. By the end time of her 18th birthday, she missed him. She had to contact him! It was their birthday. So that night, her grunkles and her sat in the living room writing a letter. She made little doodles with the art set he had bought her for their 17th birthday. In the morning, they mailed the letter to the hospital. They still didn't allow visitors so they couldn't go to see him.

She thought, maybe when he responds she'd keep sending letters but... they never got a letter back. Did he really hate her? No. No... Maybe they didn't let him write one back? Or maybe she just needs to send more so he knows that she does care! Yeah! That's it. She just needs to write another one.
Though, she never did. It wasn't her fault! She was just... busy. Yeah. She'd do it later after the school play. After the Halloween dance. After school closes for the holidays. For Christmas. For the New year. When school reopens. After her exams. Next week. And soon, another summer came and she was yet to write another letter.

It's fine though. He didn't contact her either. He could've asked the hospital for a call. Couldn't he? Afterall, he's just going through therapy. It's nothing dangerous! He could've called her! And he didn't! She'd cry sometimes as she thought of their messed up relationship. But that's okay! Everything will go back to normal soon. Her brother would come home eventually, and things would be okay again. They'd talk, and maybe laugh again. Maybe rebuild that relationship they once had? He'd be better. Normal again.

She still hadn't returned his wallet. It stayed tucked in between her dresses in the top drawer of her new room in the attic. She'd check it sometimes.
A stupid thing to do, she knew. But it reminded her that he was real. That he'd be back. That he hadn't just vanished. And that she still had a brother.

Time blurred. Months turned to seasons. Seasons faded into semesters. And by the time her 19th birthday came, she wasn't thinking too much on it anymore. She'd gotten used to her new life — school, parties, new hobbies, spontaneous trips with Pacifica or Candy or whoever else could pull her back into laughter again. It would have to fill the void until her brother was released.

Dipper was recovering. That's what she told herself. That's what they told her. She believed it. No, she wanted to believe it.

About a month after her birthday, Stan and Ford sat her down to properly talk. They had finally gotten confirmation from her therapist that it was okay for them to tell her everything they knew — which still wasn't everything but they nor her knew that. With a hesitant and awkward attempt, they began to explain what truly had been happening. What Dipper experienced. What the 'incident' was. Now she knew why her father was in prison. She had never visited him — once again too busy to do so — but now she was glad that she never did. He was a bastard for treating her brother like that! And she was terrible for never noticing...
They told her about the few reports that they got from the hospital. That Dipper seemed to have these weird coping mechanisms. How her brother talked to himself sometimes or somehow managed to keep breaking the cameras in his room. About how he tried to escape, hurting himself in the process, and isn't allowed outside or around sharp objects anymore. About how he had a lot of triggers to which he violently reacts. Or how he refuses to cooperate with the doctors after one session where they diagnosed him as schizophrenic.

It was so much... She felt sick. It felt like the floor was swallowing her whole, like the walls wanted to tear her apart. She had never been so silent while listening to someone. Maybe her grunkles were right to not tell her. Her chest felt tight, like something huge and heavy had collapsed in her lungs. She could breathe yet it felt like she shouldn't. Schizophrenic? Violent episodes? Isolation protocols? Her sweet brother? The boy who used to label all his socks and sort his pencils by length? Was this the same boy who'd still buy her such an expensive gift even when being abused? Her brother that loved her no matter how blind she was? How did this happen? And where had she been? No wonder he was so upset with her. She was certain now. And he was right to be upset at her. Why didn't she notice the signs? Maybe if she saw the signs then... maybe she could help?

She barely remembered the rest of what they told her that night. Something about a female worker he'd bonded with. Not exactly a doctor, more like a nurse. Someone assigned to care for him. The only one that he seemed to never hurt or supposedly take a liking to. That was the woman that sometimes wrote reports for the doctors when they couldn't get close enough to Dipper. She detailed how he'd go silent for hours, or murmur to something that wasn't there; how he'd disappear into corners and come back bleeding; how he once broke the reinforced window with just his bare hands. Stan had managed to pull some strings to speak to her. Even her grunkles didn't know just how horrid it was until recently. Mabel was glad that her brother at least had someone that cared about him.

The lady's name was in the final report too. The one attached to the fire. It came almost a month later. Ford found the article first — a clipped news report. He brought it straight to Mabel and Stan, quiet, pale, hands shaking just enough to make them scared before they even saw the clip.
"FIRE DESTROYS LARGEST STATE PSYCHIATRIC FACILITY — TWO SURVIVORS."
There was a photo showing the charred ruins. There was smoke and broken bricks, barely anything other than the foundation remained. Was her brother...dead? He couldn't be... No. No! EVERYTHING WAS SUPPOSED TO GO BACK TO NORMAL SOON!

The article was brief, almost careless and vague in tone. The hospital was gone. The records, likely gone with it. And the fire — the fire made no sense. Investigators couldn't explain how it started. No alarms. No malfunctioning equipment. No faulty wiring that they could trace. There were no signs of an accelerant, no witness to report the first spark. But once it began, nothing could stop it.

Firefighters tried. Every unit in the county responded. But the flames burned too hot, too fast, too wrong. As if something in the very walls had fueled it. Nothing they did worked. Nothing held it back. Until, without warning, it stopped on its own.

They researched other news sources. That night they watched the news together. Five different news channels. A miracle, some called it. A curse others called it.

Only two people had survived, one confirmed and the other assumed.

One was a worker. A woman in her early thirties who'd been assigned to a single, high-risk patient for nearly a year. The same woman that Stan said he tolerated. She had survived only because, by sheer coincidence, she'd stepped out just before the blaze.

Or so it seemed.

Weeks later, when she regained enough strength to speak, she gave her statement. She said it was the only time he had asked for anything. A real request. A specific sandwich from a specific diner. Mabel remembered it was one of his favorites from when he was younger. Their mother use to carry them there.

The woman had gone to get it for him. A ten-minute drive. She mentioned how she thought that maybe he was finally getting better. How she had been more than overjoyed to get him the sandwich. But the building had gone up in flames as soon as she left. Large flames. Out of no where. She never got to bring him the sandwich.

The investigators think he had something to do with the fire, though there wasn't any solid evidence. Someone came forward saying they saw him a few towns over.

Her throat felt like it was closing up. Her hands went cold and numb. She kept reading new news articles. She was OBSESSED.

She thought she would throw up every time there was no new information. Where was her brother?! He was probably scared... alone... sad. By the second week after the news, she still hadn't gotten over it. Neither did her grunkles. Though they were at least looking unlike her. She stayed in the attic a lot, only coming out when Stan forced her to eat something or to watch the news. She didn't go to school. She didn't talk to her friends. Something had shattered in her.

All the waiting. All the excuses. All the denial.
Every time she'd told herself it wasn't that serious.
Every time she'd thought he's just in therapy.
Every time she didn't send a text. Didn't write again. Didn't ask harder. Didn't try.

He was suffering. Alone. And she had let him.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to run into the woods — Dipper's favorite place in Gravity Falls — and scream until her voice broke. But she didn't. She sat there in silence, the tablet still glowing in her lap, the words burned into her mind as she read the latest news article. Still nothing. Useless reporters! Useless investigators! Useless her!

Her brother had needed her!
And she hadn't been there.... And now, she doesn't even know where he was. She had no idea if he was alive... or if he was still her Dipper at all.

Her hand often drifted to the top drawer without thinking, fingers brushing the corner of a worn leather wallet buried between layers of dresses and sweaters. The last thing he ever gave her. Sometimes she'd make a few artistic pieces with the gift he had given her. It reminded her of him. Of the fact that he did love her... in some way or the other.

After a few weeks, they were able to meet the nurse, when the press calmed down a bit, and she was discharged from the hospital. Her name was Annalise but she told them to call her Anna. She looked tired by weeks of exhaustion and survivor's guilt. There were bandages on her hands, faded burn scars peeking out beneath the edges, and her posture sagged like she hadn't fully stopped bracing for impact.
But what struck Mabel was the smile. It was warm, despite the things she experienced. It struck Ford and Stan more though. The lady's smile was so similar to younger Mabel. Actually, Mabel and her had a lot in common, not just physically. They had almost the same shade and length of hair. She put on a smile even when she was hurting. She wore a handmade sparkly brooch — reminding Stan of Mabel's creativeness. And her voice, goodness, it was a tad deeper than Mabel's but almost the same. Did Dipper... trust her because she reminded him of Mabel?

They met Anna at few towns over from Gravity Falls in a old outpatient clinic. Ford had arranged the meeting through an old contact. Stan came too, quieter than usual. But it was Mabel who asked most of the questions. Who couldn't sit still. Who couldn't even breathe right the entire car ride over. Because this woman had seen him. Not in photos. Not in vague updates. But seen him. Been with him. Spoken to him.

"I'm really sorry it took this long," The woman said with a soft smile, sitting across from them in the hushed consultation room. "There were a lot of legal things to sort through. And therapy. And the fire... well, it complicated everything."

Mabel nodded stiffly. Her hands twisted nervously in her lap. "What... happened?" The girl wanted to hear it directly from the source. News reporters were bound to omit 'unimportant' details. And she was right. The lady began to speak, her voice quiet yet not too quiet either. "He didn't talk much. Wouldn't respond to most staff. At first, I didn't even think he'd respond to me. Well, technically he didn't either. But, he's never insulted me or gotten a violent episode directed toward me."

Mabel sat forward anxiously, listening keenly as Anna continued. "At first, he treated me like everyone else. I wasn't even his first nurse. I was a replacement. Then one day, I laughed at one of his jokes. I don't think I ever got through to him. I knew he didn't trust me. But he didn't fight me. That was the difference. He'd get really upset if someone else came instead of me. Wouldn't eat. Wouldn't let anyone else take his vitals. But he never opened up to me either."

Anna's voice was calm, measured — the kind of voice you used when approaching a cornered animal. She wasn't trying to be delicate; she just had experience dealing with trauma cases. It was second nature. "His jokes were... weird. Occasionally he'd make a normal one but most times, it was twisted. Creepy. And his sense of humor was beyond normal."

Mabel sat frozen, her nails digging crescents into her palms. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until Stan gently nudged her with his elbow. She exhaled, shakily.

"Why do you think he... tolerated you?" Mabel wasn't sure if that was the right word to use but Anna seemed to understand what she meant. "I'm not sure. But I... I think I reminded him of his mother. And now that I've met you, I might've reminded him of you too."

"Did he tell you that?" The woman shook her head, "No. He wasn't allowed to watch movies with the other patients due to how easily he's triggered and how violent he could get. The doctors deemed it 'unsafe' for the sanity and progress of the others. So one night when I found him staring endlessly at his room's door, I went and get some VSH tapes from the old storage room. We watched the tapes in silence and slowly he curled up to my side." Anna smiled softly at the memory. "He... he never looked at me that night but I heard him murmur a 'Goodnight Ma' when he fell asleep."

Mabel felt something cold tug at her heart. Guilt maybe? Sorrow? Worry?

"I think it was a slip. Definitely not meant for me. But... I don't know. I think, for a second, something came through. Then it vanished."

"Did he ever..." Mabel's voice faltered. "Have any episodes? The news mentioned he did."

Anna didn't answer right away. Her expression softened, but her eyes held something heavier — the kind of weariness you didn't get from sleepless nights alone. She nodded slowly. "Yes. Many."

She exhaled, her gaze drifting somewhere past the room. "He never shared anything personal. Not with me, not with anyone. The only time I heard his voice clearly was when he muttered to himself — or when he laughed. Not the kind of laugh you'd want to hear, either. It always felt like someone else was in the room... someone we couldn't see. He was diagnosed schizophrenic so I suppose it's normal but it gave me the chills at first."

Mabel's stomach churned.

"The cameras in his room never caught anything unusual," Anna went on. "Not because it wasn't happening, but because he was smart. Too smart. The systems were reinforced, top of the line, and he still found ways to either break them or slip out of frame entirely. We never figured out how he did it."

She paused, adjusting the edge of a bandage on her wrist. "The window was barred. The door was reinforced. In the end, the hospital stopped replacing the cameras altogether. Said it wasn't worth the cost. When someone new tried to interact with him, or a question hit the wrong nerve, or... sometimes for no apparent reason at all. He'd panic. He'd start mumbling to himself. Once, he broke a sink with his fists. Another time, he got out of the restraints without anyone knowing how. But he always calmed down on his own somehow. We got used to it. Everyone learned to give him space whenever a trigger happened. We knew he'd never try to hurt anyone normally. But during those moments, it was as though his fight or flight response was activated. He felt endangered and would do anything to survive."

Anna glanced at Mabel and sighed. She didn't want to say too much, but she could tell the girl needed to know.

"You could tell the trauma wasn't fresh. It was lived-in. Old. Familiar. He didn't act like someone in shock — he acted like someone used to being afraid. Like the fear had become part of how he functioned."

Mabel's stomach twisted. A bitter weight settled in her chest. She blinked rapidly to keep her tears in, but one escaped anyway.

Anna gave her a moment. She could see it in the way Mabel's shoulders were tense. In the way her hands had started to shake. "Can you tell me... how he acted? You said it was like fear was... part of him?" Anna nodded, "He'd flinch at loud footsteps. Not just out of surprise — real panic. He wouldn't turn his back to the door, even if we asked him to. If anyone raised their voice, even slightly, even in another room, he'd freeze. Shut down completely."

Stan's hand subtly moved toward Mabel's on the bench, just brushing her knuckles. She didn't pull away. Anna looked at them both before continuing. "He'd go still in this way like someone who's expecting to be hit."

Mabel's heart thudded. Her breath came shallow.

"Some nights he'd curl up in the farthest corner of his room and stay there until morning. Wouldn't talk. Wouldn't move. It wasn't defiance. It seemed like a habit. And sometimes, he'd mumble things. Just fragments. Phrases. Sometimes it sounded like he was apologizing. Sometimes... begging?"

Ford swallowed hard. Stan didn't move at all. Their nephew was suffering so much...

"I don't know what his father did," Anna said carefully, "but it was bad enough that even silence scared him. And whatever happened — it didn't just break him once. It kept happening. For years. Long enough that by the time he got to us, it wasn't something we could undo. Honestly, I think the doctors had secretly given up."

A quiet beat passed. Mabel's eyes were glossy now, her voice caught somewhere in her throat.

Her voice cracked as she finally whispered what was really on her mind, "Do you think he hated me?" When the woman didn't immediately answer, her stomach dropped in guilt.

"No," she finally said, steady but soft. "I don't think he hated you." She folded her hands in her lap. "But I do think... he was angry. I believe deep down he just missed you. I think he felt abandoned. I heard reports that you weren't abused because you were rarely home. And sometimes I caught him staring at the room where patients received mails or saw visitors. "

Mabel's lips trembled. She looked down.

"He never said your name," Anna added gently. "Not out loud. But... when your name came up in conversation — in reports or check-ins — he always reacted. Not violently. Just... withdrawn. Like it meant something. Like he didn't know how to feel."

She hesitated before continuing.

"I'm not sure but... that's what I think."

Mabel nodded, slowly tears beginning to fall — not just from guilt, but from something far deeper: the realization that love could coexist with pain, and that sometimes the people we love the most are the ones we hurt without even meaning to.

For the first time, Stan spoke up as Ford comforted Mabel. "Wasn't he ever happy? He's a tough kid. He's not going to just stay broken!" There was doubt in his voice. He was worried, scared even. They could all hear it.

Anna stayed silent for a bit before nodding. "The night of the fire." She exhaled slowly, as if preparing to say it made it more real. Her fingers tightened in her lap before she spoke again, quieter now.

"It started like any other night. He hadn't eaten all day — not unusual. I offered his usual tray, and he didn't even look at it. I tried the sealed packages from the vending machines, he usually took those but he refused. I didn't press. I'd learned by then that pushing only made him withdraw more."

Anna glanced down at her lap. Her tone was bitter and sad. Her voice cracked. Right, this was traumatic for her too. "But then, just as I was finishing rounds, he looked up. Directly at me. He called me by my name for the first time. And he smiled."

Ford shifted in his seat, an arm still around Mabel.

"I'd never seen that smile before. Not like that. Not a smirk. Not one of his twisted, ironic grins. It was... soft and warm. Almost like a kid. He seemed brighter than usual. Happy even." She swallowed. "Then he said, 'Can you get me something? From Maria's Diner.' It was so specific. Even the order and drink was specific. That's how I knew it wasn't random."

Mabel's heart stuttered. That diner. They used to go there with Mom. Dipper's favorite meal had always been— "Grilled cheese with mustard. Pickles on the side. Pitt cola." She muttered and Anna nodded. "Yes. That was it. He asked so happily and excitedly. Not his usual distant and cold voice nor was it his twistedly upbeat voice. I thought it was a breakthrough." Anna let out a bitter laugh. "I was so happy. I practically ran to my car."

Her voice started to shake. "But when I drove out of the parking lot, I saw the smoke from the building in my mirror. I was still close enough that I had difficulty breathing. I was the one that called the fire department. The fire — it was huge. I had no clue how it had engulfed the entire building in seemingly seconds."

Ford leaned in slightly, brow furrowed. "Did you see anyone else? Anyone suspicious?"

Anna shook her head. "No one. There weren't any footsteps. No alarms. No power surge. The fire was just... there. I tried to go back but I didn't even get close when the heat alone burned me."

Stan stiffened beside Mabel.

"The whole west wing was gone in minutes. And the flames weren't normal. They moved too fast. They didn't flicker — they were still! Have you ever seen still flames?! It wasn't normal! I know it wasn't but the police won't take me seriously!" Anna shuddered. "I know I sound insane. I sound like my patients and I've been through something traumatic but... I swear that fire was something completely different!"

There was silence until Ford broke it. "And him?"
Anna took a deep breath, calming herself. Maybe the smoke did get to her. "Gone by the time the fire stopped. He wasn't found in the wreckage. No remains. Not a trace. But... There is one thing I didn't tell the cops. When I went back I found the jacket I always wore and his patient records— I found it folded neatly in the grass past the north fence. It wasn't burnt at all. Inside the folder, in my red ink was written 'Get a better job. That place sucked.'"

Mabel let out a shaky breath. "You think... he set it?"

"I don't know," Anna admitted. "But I don't think he ran from the fire."

She turned her gaze toward the window, far off now. "I think he had something to do with it. I'm not sure what but... something."

Ford flinched, very slightly. Mabel noticed. Anna looked down again, voice quiet now. "And whatever started that fire... As long as I've not actually gone insane, it didn't come from this world."

Ford hadn't spoken in several minutes. His brows were drawn tight, eyes unfocused as if staring not at Anna, but through her — into something distant, invisible, and very old. A fire that didn't flicker? That reminded him of something... someone. But that wasn't possible. Dipper and him searched after the rift closed, after they erased him... They were certain. He was gone.

Finally, he cleared his throat, voice low and carefully even. "You said... he used to talk to himself." Anna nodded, folding her hands in her lap. "Yes. Frequently. It wasn't always loud, but he'd often mumble to himself. Sometimes he didn't even say words, but you could see it on his face — like he was having a whole conversation in his head. Expressions changing, little reactions... like someone was talking back. Sometimes at night... Actually a lot of nights he'd stay up talking to himself. By then, the hospital had stopped replacing the cameras but he'd be completely drained the next morning."

Stan spoke up, his words slow and tight, like he had to force them past a lump in his throat. "Do you know what it was about? Maybe memories? Or someone he missed?" Anna tilted her head thoughtfully, then shook it. "I... don't think so. It wasn't like the usual hallucinations or flashbacks that other patients had. It was like he was having real conversations with someone he knew. He didn't talk like he was remembering. He talked like it was happening in real time."

Ford's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "A friend?" he echoed. Anna nodded, she much rather talk about this than the fire. "That's what it seemed like, at least. He never labeled it. But it felt... personal. Intimate, even. The way he spoke to it, smiled at it... the way he listened when no one else was talking. There didn't seem to be multiple voices. He talked to it like he knew it." She trailed off for a second, "But everyone is different. The doctors figured it was a coping mechanism — maybe a fragment of someone from his past. A protective figure or something his brain built to keep him company. But... if it was someone from his past, it's concerning."

"Why?" Mabel's voice was hoarse, worn down by everything she'd heard, every tear she'd shed. There wasn't much left in her voice except the need to understand.

Anna's voice became more reflective. "Because he was fixated. Obsessed, even. He wasn't scared of it. He told me I didn't need to be scared of it, which... is not the usual response when it comes to delusions. Most patients that I've had in the past feared the things they saw. They wanted it to stop. But Dipper... clung to it."

Ford's stomach turned. He said nothing, but every word dug a little deeper into an old wound he thought had been sealed years ago. He wanted to be wrong.

Anna continued, her tone shifting into something more careful — like she knew she was crossing into darker territory. "It was... disturbing in a way. Because that was the only time I ever saw him happy. Not when we gave him books or coloring tools. Not when his vitals improved. Just when he was 'talking' to that... whatever it was. I'd pass his room, and he'd be smiling — a real smile. Not a smirk, not his usual twisted irony. Just this... soft, weirdly childlike grin."

Her voice lowered slightly. "Sometimes he'd whisper, 'He'd think it's funny. He always gets it,' when no one else laughed at his jokes. Other times, when one of the other patients broke down or lashed out, he'd laugh quietly to himself and mutter things like, 'He'd love this.' When I asked what he meant, he simply replied with 'He thinks pain is hilarious.' like that explained anything."

Ford froze. "What? What did you say?" Anna repeated it for him a bit louder before continuing, "I asked him, gently, who 'he' was. What he looked like. And after that... he shut down completely. Wouldn't eat. Wouldn't let me near him for days until I apologized. Then finally, he told me it was a triangle, the 'funniest guy ever'."

Ford's chest was tight. His fingers curled into a loose fist on his knee. Mabel finally dared to ask the one question none of them wanted to ask. Her voice came out a whisper. "Do you think he's hallucinating... Bill?"

Anna blinked, startled. "Bill? Yes. That was the name he muttered sometimes! I couldn't quite remember it but that's it."

Ford stood slowly.

The air seemed to drain from the room, the soft hum of the clinic's fluorescent lights suddenly deafening. Mabel looked up at him sharply, alarm flickering across her face. Stan muttered something low under his breath, barely audible.

Anna glanced between them, confused by the sudden tension. "Is that... important?"

Ford didn't respond right away. His jaw tightened, and without a word, he turned and walked over to the window, staring out of it as if trying to make sense of something only he could see.

Stan stood slowly, placing a steadying hand on Mabel's shoulder. "We... need to go," he said, his voice low but certain.

Mabel looked at Anna, her throat too tight to speak, and gave a small, grateful nod.

"Thanks for your time," Stan added, managing a lopsided smile. "Take care of yourself."

The old grumpy man ushered a trembling Mabel and a distant, pacing Ford back to the Stanmobile with the kind of gruff urgency only he could manage. Mabel was barely holding it together, her breaths short and sharp, and Ford looked like he was about to unravel completely — lost in thoughts Stan didn't have the patience for right now. It was getting late, and he needed to get them home before one of them collapsed. Whatever Ford remembered, it wasn't good. And whatever Mabel was feeling — he needed to calm her down.

Chapter Text

Months passed without any news or signs of Dipper — nor Bill. Which, quite frankly, was terrifying. Not that they wanted Bill to show up at their doorstep but the calmness was unsettling. It felt wrong. This was the type of unnatural stillness that made your skin crawl with displeasure. The kind that had Stan checking the perimeter way too often. The kind that kept Ford pacing in his lab as he tried to make theories. The kind that made Mabel flinch at every moving shadow in the corner of her eye.

Bill was inactive. But that didn't seem right. Disappearing wasn't his style. He liked to play with his food, especially when they cross him. Which, they knew for sure that they had done by defeating him 6 years ago. At the very least, he should've messed with Ford. Instead? Nothing. There were no tricks. No appearances in dreams. No threats. Nothing at all.

Ford was worried — panicked even. He isolated in his lab, pacing so much that the floorboards seemed to cry for mercy. He barely touched any food unless Stan shoved a plate into his hands. Some nights he forgot to sleep. His mind was jumbled, chasing theory after theory, fingers stained with ink as he tried to figure out what they did wrong. How Bill was back?

Stan held up better than his brother — on the outside. Mostly for Mabel's sake. He made a few gruff jokes when he could. Forced an awkward smile occasionally. But even that couldn't hide the way he'd keep watch on the porch some nights or how he stared at the sky whenever he thought everyone was busy. It wasn't hope, it was dread for what might be coming. 

Mabel didn't speak much. The sparkle she was once known for was mostly gone. There were instances were it peaked through but most times it felt as though she was building walls around herself. She still wore bright colors and braided her hair every morning but her laughter became scarce, her eyes always seemed distant. Her brother was missing and a part of her felt like it had followed him. 

After a few weeks, the small family decided it was time to tell the others. They couldn't sit idly in fear forever. If something was coming — and knowing Bill, something was coming — they had to be ready.

After their little meeting, a plan was put into action. They would use Ford's and McGucket's old underground bunker if anything happened. 

Wendy, Candy, and Grenda joined Mabel in her mission to visit the unicorns again. It was a frustrating and time-consuming ordeal that none of them truly wanted to do, yet no one muttered a complaint. If it worked in the past, it could work again. 

Meanwhile, Stan, Soos, Pacifica, and Melody cleaned and prepared the bunker. Melody handled most of the cleaning. Stan took out the hostile creatures that still hid and lingered in the place. Pacifica and Soos gathered supplies: canned foods and sleeping bags from the Shack.

Back in the lab at the Shack, Ford and McGucket poured over every scrap of research, desperate to find a way to kill Bill. Together, using some old remains from the portal that they managed to find, they created a fine dust that, in theory, could trap Bill. 

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Eventually, the girls returned with the strands of unicorn hair and Ford was able to do the ritual and cover the perimeter of the bunker. It wasn't perfect, but at least it was enough to block Bill from slipping into their minds or from entering their safe place.

Once the townfolk realized something was wrong, they started to ask questions. They deserved the truth so Ford and Stan explained everything.

Now that the bunker was safer, the new plan was to find a way to defeat Bill and get Dipper back. Bill had to have manipulated him, controlled him even. 

A few days after succeeding in making the barrier around the bunker, Ford came up with a new theory. Their best chances of protecting the universe from Bill, was to lure him back into Gravity Falls. It sounded insane at first. Mabel had stared at him like he'd lost his mind all over again. But the logic made sense in that grim, awful way Ford's ideas often did. The barrier around Gravity Falls still held. Ford had tested it. Weirdness could enter, but large amounts of it couldn't escape.

This time, though, it wasn't just the town at stake. If they could lure Bill back inside — just once — then maybe, just maybe, they could trap him inside.

But deliberately going after him now? No. They weren't ready. They weren't even close to ready.

From that moment, preparations doubled. Ford and McGucket moved their research to one of the rooms in the bunker. Old spells were deciphered. Theories were pushed to their limits. More failures than successes, but they never stopped.

Pacifica, Melody, and Robbie worked on making the bunker a survival center. The townfolk brought any extra materials they had to help. First aid kits, a generator, flashlights for every room, cases of water and drinks, spare clothes, more canned foods, whatever they could give.
Stan, Grenda, and Wendy fortified the lab in the Shack — just in case they couldn't make it to the bunker for some reason. With the remaining unicorn hair, they were able to make just enough to keep the lab safe. 
Mabel and Candy ventured back into the forest for help. The creatures of Gravity Falls remembered Weirdmageddon and most agreed without much convincing. 

The gnomes were the first to agree, surprisingly cooperative once Mabel asked — not even asking for anything other than shelter in return. They'd seen the sky tear open once before and didn't want it to happen again.
The manotaur, after some old-fashioned ego-stroking and a promise of a glorious battle, agreed to lend their strength.

Even the elusive ones watched from the shadows, nodding slowing. They'd keep an eye on the outskirts of Gravity Falls. They didn't trust humans. But they hated Bill Cipher more.

The forest shifted with them, almost alive in its quiet agreement. The leaves stirred with a breath that didn't belong to the wind. The shadows curled back, wary of something they couldn't name or rather, didn't want to name.

They were building a haven. Because whatever Bill was planning—whenever he returned—it wouldn't just be the Pines family standing in his way.

It would be Gravity Falls. Ready. Watching. Waiting.... Or so they thought.

Chapter Text

They would be ready. That's what they told themselves. So when Dipper  showed up — bloody, limping and half-conscious — at the Shack while Stan, Mabel and Wendy were out collecting supplies for Ford, it was completely unexpected. 

Stan had been the first to notice him, catching a flicker of movement through a gap in the boarded window. He assumed it was one of the townsfolk who still went about their normal lives but oh how wrong he was. 

When the man stepped onto the porch and got a better look, his breath caught in his throat. Before him stood his nephew — swaying, barely upright. He was trembling. One of his eyes was swollen shut and dried blood caked along his temple. He was still in his hospital gown but it was severely torn and stained, and his arm cradled his side as though something inside had broke. 

For a moment, Stan thought it was his imagination. "Kid?" His voice cracked as he stepped forward, hand hesitantly reaching for the boy's face.

Dipper blinked slowly, lips trembling from the cold. "Hi... Grunkle Stan." The greeting was barely audible—raw, hoarse, wrong. Then, without warning, he collapsed. Stan caught him before his head hit the floor.

"Wendy!" He shouted as he pulled the limp body into his arms. "Mabel!" 

They rushed in seconds later—Wendy dropping the bag she'd just packed, Mabel freezing in place.

"What's the— Is that... Dipper?" her voice broke.

Wendy ran back into the Shack to find a blanket and hopefully, a first aid kit that they missed.

They laid him on the Shack's old couch, the same one they used to watch movies on during the summer. Now it smelled of dust. Dipper barely stirred, feverish and murmuring nonsense between shallow breaths and Stan instinctively held his hand. He seemed scared. A nightmare more than likely. 

Wendy returned shortly with a first aid kit. She ended up being the one to tend to Dipper's wounds. Some were fresh, some were old. Stan didn't let go of Dipper, even as Wendy moved the body around. He was scared. Scared that this was one big trick from Bill and if he let go, Dipper would be gone again. 

Mabel knelt beside the couch, tears welling in her eyes. Her brother was home. He was back. But how? 

"We were just—just talking about you," she whispered, her fingers trembling against the floor. She was too scared to touch him. She didn't deserve to. "You're not supposed to be here. You're supposed to be gone."

"Don't say that," Stan muttered, wrapping one of the blanket around the boy's shaking frame. "He made it back. That's what matters."

"But—" Mabel's voice caught. "What happened to him?" No one had an answer.

Wendy collected the forgotten bag as Stan picked the boy up again and they headed back to the bunker. Maybe they should've waited for Dipper to wake and explain everything but they needed to get him somewhere safe.

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The stairs creaked as they descended, the air growing colder the deeper they went. Dipper was still out cold in Stan's arms, though every now and then, he shifted and muttered small 'stop's and 'I'm sorry's. Mabel didn't speak the entire time. Then again, none of them did. The new and improved door slid open with a mechanical hiss after Wendy input the code. 

Ford was the first to meet them in the main hall, waiting for his supplies as McGucket worked in the lab. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses at the sight of his brother cradling someone. "Who—?" Stan answered before the question was fully asked. 

"It's Dipper. He showed up at the Shack severely injured."

Ford's expression faltered. For a moment, he just stared, as though trying to match the battered figure in Stan's arms with the sharp, curious boy who once begged for lab time and scribbled in journals. Then he moved quickly, ushering them into one of the rooms they made into a sort of infirmary. 

They laid Dipper on one of the reinforced futons. Ford's hands trembled faintly as he hooked up basic monitoring equipment—vitals, reflexes, temperature. Wendy handed him the first aid kit that she used earlier, and he examined the existing bandages she'd applied.

"These wounds... some are healing. Days old at least. Others are fresh," The old man muttered. "He's been on the run."

Stan stood off to the side, fist balled tightly at his side as he watched his brother work. "He barely said anything before collapsing. No sign of where he came from, or how he found us. He just showed up."

"That's... worrying," Ford muttered under his breath. "But for now, his health is the more important. We'll find out what happened when he wakes up."

"He's alive, though," Mabel said. Her voice was quiet but resolute, as if saying it aloud might make it permanent. "He's here. He's—" She faltered, looking down at Dipper's sleeping face. "He's back."

Ford didn't argue. He was just as ecstatic that his nephew was back.

They stayed near Dipper all night. But he didn't stir at all. His vitals did however stabilize.  

Mabel had refused to leave his side, eventually curling into a chair with her knees to her chest, blanket around her shoulders. Wendy took up post by the door, hat pulled low, but also not wanting to leave. Stan watched from a few feet away, leaning against the wall like he might have to catch something falling again. Ford constantly rechecked his vitals, temperature, pressure, anything really.

Around midnight the following night, Dipper stirred.
It started with a jolt—a sharp, panicked inhale like surfacing from deep water. His hand snapped out, grabbing at the blanket, then at air, before Mabel scrambled awake and rushed to his side.

"Dipper!" she whispered. "Hey—it's okay. You're safe. You're with us. You're home." 

He blinked rapidly, eyes dilated and wet. His gaze darted from her to the room he was in, then to Ford who was now waking.

"Where...?" His voice cracked.

"You're in Gravity Falls," Mabel whispered. Ford seemed to notice what's happening and begun to wake his brother.

Dipper looked down at his own body, at the wires, the bandages, the warm blanket. Then up at Mabel again. "I..I made it," he murmured. "I—I didn't think I'd make it. I didn't know if I'd ever see you again." Tears streamed down his face, his voice cracking.

Mabel's heart broke. "I missed you," she whispered. "So much."

He reached out slowly, hand shaking, and she took it without hesitation. His grip was weak, but warm.

"Mabel..." he mumbled.

"Yes. Yes, it's me. Mabel! I'm so sorry!" She couldn't hold back any longer. Whether she deserved it or not, she embraced her brother. He froze at the contact before slowly wrapping his arms around her and crying with her. 

He was home.
He was safe.
He was back.

Chapter Text

Dipper slept through the next morning and part of the afternoon — his body clearly needed the rest. In the dim infirmary, Mabel sat nearby. She hadn't left the room except to get food or use the restroom.
Ford checked Dipper's vitals hourly, adjusting the readings and scanning papers ever so often. Stan loitered nearby, either inside the room or right outside the door. And Wendy? She tried cracking an occasional joke, though her voice always fell flat because even she was worried.

When Dipper finally stirred with a soft, pained groan, Mabel perked up. "Hey!" She said, a bit too loudly. "You're awake again. Grunkle Ford said you'll sleep a lot because you body is recovering or something like that."

Dipper didn't answer. His gaze slid past her. His voice was probably still sore, she told herself. So she grabbed a bottle of water and offered it to him with a shaky smile. He just stared at it. Maybe he wasn't thirsty? 

The silence stretched on awkwardly. She tried again, "I um... I just wanted to apologize for... well, everything." The brunet looked up, his eyes shining for a second before she continued, "I've been thinking about everything that happened. About what you must've gone through and I... I didn't even notice."

A part of Dipper wanted to laugh and tell her to screw off with her self-pity but he kept his mouth shut.
He watched his sister as she sighed and fiddle with her thumbs. "I felt like I failed you. I kept thinking that you were just being dramatic or that you wanted space but... then the whole thing with Dad happened and we got separated. I-I didn't know how bad it was. I was hurting too and... I guess I let that cloud my vision."
She still calls that bastard something as sweet as 'dad'?!

"Then we found out something was wrong with you and they sent you to that institution! Then it burned down and the nurse said—" Wrong? With him? How dare she? Nothing was wrong with him! She had no right to— With a deep breath, he finally spoke up, "Mabel. It's okay. It's not your fault. You... didn't know." 

Mabel's eyes filled with tears as she leaned forward and hugged him. "I love you. I promise to never stop being your sister again." Liar. She wasn't apologizing for what she did. Just how she felt. How she suffered. Her guilt was eating her alive, and now she needed him to fix it.

"Okay." Dipper forced his arms to slowly wrap around her, eyes staring past her into the wall. She didn't notice. She didn't see the way his gaze went blank the moment she touched him. She was too busy believing he'd forgiven her. She didn't care... She never cared after their mother died. She just needed to feel as though she wasn't at fault. This wasn't about him, this was all about her guilt. Yet, for now he'll play into her fantasies. 

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Not long after, Ford and Stan returned with a few papers and books in their hands. Ford would move to the infirmary for a bit while McGucket continued to work in the lab. That way he can keep an eye on Dipper's vitals while still working on a way to kill Bill. However, with Ford working there and Dipper recovering smoothly, Mabel and Stan had to go back to their usual duties. Mabel didn't mind. Afterall, her brother was in Ford's hands and the boy forgave her. She'd visit whenever she wasn't helping the others with something around the bunker. Stan, was much more reluctant — though he didn't show it. He was needed for most of the heavy lifting but whenever he wasn't doing that, he'd silently sit in the infirmary, pretending to read a newspaper. 

One day, when Mabel and Stan left to help with bunker repairs, Ford tended to his wounds again. He moved quietly, respectfully, like someone tending to a wounded animal that might bite. 

Sixer- Er... Ford was their biggest threat. The man simply was too smart for his own good. If anyone was to figure what was going on, it would be Ford. Yet, Bill was right, emotions really did cloud his better judgement.

The man adjusted Dipper's bandages in silence, inspecting bruises and stitching with care that bordered on reverent.

Dipper was the first to speak, "You don't have to hover."

Ford gave a soft chuckle. "Well, forgive me. But it's hard not to. You've been through more than I can even imagine."

The boy looked away and the older male took it as a sign to continue, "How are you feeling?" he asked gently, his tone warmer now.

'How are you feeling?' That's what he asks?! Not 'What happened?' or 'Is Bill still out there?' or 'How'd you get all the way to Gravity Falls?' Dipper had practiced for this conversations. Planned all his responses, yet this caught him completely off guard. Crap, he needs to respond.
"Um... Tired and sore, I suppose?" Damn it, his nervousness could be heard through his voice. Get a grip!

Ford paused, then added, "That's to be expected... I meant mentally. Are you okay after... Well, you wouldn't be okay but are you holding up okay?"
Dipper blinked in confusion again. "Um... Y-Yeah. I'm just glad to have made it here." 

Ford hands faltered slightly as he taped down the last strip of gauze. "Some of these might scar," he murmured, almost to himself. Dipper nodded in acknowledgement.
The air was tense. Really tense. The brunet didn't want to somehow mess up. This was nothing like he thought it would've been. And that man used to be able to read him like a book. He had to be careful.
Ford, on the other hand, racked his head for something to say. He had so many questions. About Bill. About the hospital. About how Dipper got to the Shack. But now wasn't the time for that. The boy was recovering, he couldn't pester him now. Plus, his nephew sounded so nervous. Dipper probably didn't know how to talk with him anymore after so long. And the abuse. And gosh, who knows what Bill might've done. Come on Stanford! Say something!

Ford stood beside the makeshift bed. Dipper noticed how tired his eyes seemed. He almost felt bad. Almost. "Um... I don't know if you know but they arrested your father." 

Dipper blinked, "They did?" Bill told him that Mabel was taken away by welfare but he didn't say the man was imprisoned.

Ford nodded, "He won't be able to hurt you nor your sister again." How much did those nurses and doctors tell Dipper? This was basic information. It probably would've helped the boy's mental state if they had told him his abuser was behind bars. So why didn't they?! Some professionals they are! Gosh... he sounded like his brother. 
There was a pause before Ford spoke again, telling Dipper everything he knew about the investigation on the man and the bits and pieces of information he got from the hospital and welfare. It was only when Dipper asked about the fire had Ford realized there was much more to the story than he thought. Did Dipper not know? How? Was it Bill's doing? Without much more thought, he told the boy everything — the reports on the fire, the conversation with the nurse. Through it all, Dipper sat stiffly, calculatingly or in Ford's perspective, in shock. 

At the end of the story, Dipper knew he had to say something. He didn't have much time to think but they knew too much. He has no idea how Ford didn't start piecing things together with the 'being friends with his hallucination, Bill' part but he assumed the poor old man thought Bill was manipulating him. The best course of action would probably be to erase any potential ties to the triangle being his friend. 

And then, as if to test the waters, he muttered softly in his raspy voice, "What? That's... Bill was a hallucination?"
Ford didn't understand. Was this 'Bill' truly just a hallucination and not the Bill Cipher? Had they prepared for nothing? Did they jump to conclusions? No, but the nurse said his behavior was weird and he was clearly hurt upon arrival to Gravity Falls. What was he missing?
"You thought... Bill Cipher was your... roommate?" He asked, leaning in to hear the boy's response.
"No, not Bill Cipher. Bill. I thought he was real. My roommate. A kid my age. Blonde hair, kind of weird, violent sometimes but he understood me." And just like that, Ford took the bait. 

When the older man asked Dipper to tell him more. He made sure to go into excruciating detail. Bill was his best friend! His roommate. He showed him all sorts of cool tricks, like how to avoid cameras or how to break reinforced glass. And he told the funniest jokes! He understood Dipper. And taught him this cute little rhythm that they use to do together everyday! And he showed the brunet how to enjoy life. To not let sad things like death or trauma bother you and to just think of something funny instead. To never trust the doctors because they don't actually care. Dipper twisted his story. This story of his 'blonde best friend' covered every possible explanation of what the nurse told Ford. It explained everything... except the fire. 

Of course Ford still had questions. And finally, the topic of the fire came up. And of course, Dipper was ready. "I... don't remember much." He begun, Ford hooked on ever word that came through his lips, "But I remember Bill promising that we'd get out of there soon. He said that I should live a bit and I remember craving this sandwich I use to have with mom. I think that's probably when I asked that nurse to get it? I... I remember we were just talking, then I got sleepy so we went to bed. We had stayed up all night playing. Next time I woke up was after the fire. I was in some bushes behind the hospital. My file and a gown was with me. I think I wrote something? I'm not sure but I remember leaving it there. I haven't seen Bill since then." 

So how did he get injured? How did he get to Gravity Falls? It's been months since the fire. 

With a soft smile, Dipper looked up from his trembling hands to his grunkle. "I can tell you have questions. I know we haven't talked in a long time but... you can ask any questions that you need to. You're still my great uncle Ford." That seemed to do the trick. Ford smiled back at him, his thoughts calming down. "Dipper... What happened after then? It's been months. You somehow got all the way here from Piedmont and you were severely injured when you arrived." 

"...I walked. A lot. Lived off scraps. Blacked out sometimes and woke up in completely different towns. Then—" Dipper's eyes grew distant, "Then Cipher showed up. He was back. Actually back. When I use to get hallucinations and nightmares a few years back, it wasn't actually PTSD. It was him. He was in my mind somehow, but he got out and I'm not sure how."

Ford inhaled sharply, placing a gentle hand on the boy's knee. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Dipper hesitated — just long enough to sell the illusion — then nodded, slowly. "When I disobeyed."

That was enough. Ford's face darkened with guilt, with fury. It was at that moment that Ford thought that perhaps, it was best to stop for now.

"Shh. Your voice is still hoarse. It's okay. We'll talk more about it later." With a quick trip to his little makeshift study in the corner, Ford returned with a sealed bottle of water for Dipper. And Dipper actually drank it — it became apparent to the older man that every time Mabel or Stan gave the boy actual food or water, he'd just stare at it and never actually consume it.
So he wanted to test his theory — the nurse told them that he usually refused to eat at the hospital except for the sealed packages from the vending machines, so maybe he only like eating or drinking from sealed stuff. And it seemed that his theory was correct. The boy drank the water so fast that Ford was partially worried that he'd choke.

When the bottle was finally empty, Dipper wiped his mouth and look back at Ford. "Why... Why are you staring at me?" Was it because of his mannerisms? He was thirsty. He's still human, you know! 

"Sorry. I'm just... So glad to see you again. I was terrified that you'd forever be gone and even before the fire, the way the hospital described it... It seemed like you were crazy or insane and I was worried your past would always affect you but it seems like you're recovering well." The man chuckled and Dipper felt his facade... his heart crack. It's been so long since he felt anything positive towards anyone other than Bill.

"I..." He couldn't even continue before his breath caught in his throat.

"You don't have to be strong anymore," Ford said, voice low and steady. "I should've seen the signs. I should've known something more was going on. But I didn't. And I'm sorry for that. I'm here now. And I won't let anyone hurt you again. You're not alone, Dipper. Not anymore."

Why did he have to be so... so kind? Why did his words make Dipper feel seen?

He shouldn't feel this way. Ford was their biggest threat. He was just like everyone else. Even if he had cared once... even if he did care now, here and there...

It shouldn't matter anymore.

And yet... the tears were already rising, hot and unwanted. Dipper didn't speak at first but he felt his guard drop. He just leaned his head against Ford's shoulder when the man sat beside him, trembling with the effort not to fall apart. This type of pain wasn't hilarious... He didn't like how his chest felt. "I'm sorry," Dipper murmured.

Ford didn't hesitate to respond, "You don't need to apologize for things that weren't your fault."

It was awkward — he was never good at comforting people but it was perfect for the brunet. The boy leaned further into the warmth, until he was half-draped over the man like he used to be when they went for long hikes through the forest. 

Ford didn't move or speak for a while. Then, quietly, Dipper whispered a soft and broken 'Please don't leave.'

His uncle gave him the faintest nod and stayed where he was. In fact, he started talking. His voice was soft, recounting old stories from their adventures. 

Dipper didn't say much. He didn't need to. He just listened, feeling the steady rhythm of Ford's voice and the warmth of the man's coat. Eventually, the tension in his shoulders eased. His breathing slowed. His eyes fluttered shut. And he slept naturally — for the first time in almost 2 years.

But what Ford didn't realize was that Dipper hadn't been apologizing for what had happened to him. He'd been apologizing for what he was about to do.

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Word spread fast. Too fast. And before long, his old friends—if you could still call them that—came to visit. Stan had let them in when Dipper finally stirred again. Candy, Grenda, Pacifica, Soos... even Robbie. They gathered around like they were stepping into a museum exhibit. Like they couldn't believe he was real.

Grenda was the first to hug him—tight and bone-crushing, just like she used to. Candy gave him a handful of wrapped sweets and smiled too big. He took them with a quiet "thanks" and placed them on the table beside his makeshift bed. He had no intention of eating them. He couldn't even remember if Candy used to be someone he trusted. His memories were muddled. He'd have to dig through them later. Either way, it was best to be polite.

Soos had greeted him energetically with tears, asking how he's been and if he was hungry or needed anything. Pacifica didn't cry, but she kept starting at him like she couldn't believe her eyes. She handed him a bag with fresh clothes and said something but he didn't really listen.

Even the guy in the hoodie— Rob-something?—muttered a quiet "glad you're not dead" before awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets.

It was strange.
So strange.
Dipper forced himself to smile. Forced himself to sit upright. To nod at the right moments. To look like he was grateful. To sound like he still knew who they were supposed to be — to sound like he cared.

Chapter Text

Ford had been thinking. He hadn't said it aloud— not until now —but the idea gnawed at his mind since his talk with his nephew. It was a bit of a stretch but the nurse said it herself: it was unusual that Dipper had one consistent hallucination. So... what if the hallucination, wasn't a hallucination? 

He didn't bring it up while Stan and the others were around. Only when they were alone in the lab had he voiced his theory. Dipper had been recovering quickly— walking, eating, speaking without the raspy strain anymore. Stan had made a proud comment on how the boy was 'a tough one to crack'. and he wasn't wrong. Since then Dipper hadn't left the researcher's side. Even after Ford returned to his actual lab, the boy followed without complaint. 

Ford pulled a chair beside Dipper and took a seat, the purr of a half-finished experiment pulsed behind him. He looked older than Dipper remembered— not only from age but from worry too. 

"I think I've figured out what happened to you," Ford said quietly, his voice low and cautious.

Dipper didn't react at first. He simply tilted his head. Ford continued anyway, rubbing at his jaw, "You told me about the hallucinations—the friend you said kept you company, the one who never left you alone. The more I think into it, the more I wonder... what if it was never a hallucination? What if it was actually Bill Cipher?"

Dipper's gaze fell to his hands that curled subtly in his lap. His brows knitted with a flicker of unease. Just enough tension and discomfort to make it all believable.
There it was. The old fish bit the bait. All he needs to do now was tell Bill — though the triangle probably already knew through the bond. He could tell the dream demon was getting impatient and bored of not being able to create chaos.

Ford's tone softened at his nephew's discomfort, "It is just a theory but he could've disguised himself. Told you what you wanted to hear. You were alone, traumatized, hurting, and terrified... maybe he even offered you help." His tone shifted to a darker one, "I know how persuasive he can be."

Dipper looked up at him slowly, a horrified look across his face. "You think I made a deal?"

"I don't know," came the admission, "But the blackouts. The fire. You waking up in different towns with no memory of how you got there. It fits, doesn't it? If he manipulated you— tricked you —you might not even remember making one."

Dipper let the silence settle before speaking, voice quiet and shaken, "After the fire, when Cipher appeared to me. He went around making deals and doing these weird rituals. He forced me to watch and obey. Sometimes he'd make me... partake in the rituals. I—I don't want to believe my friend was a hallucination, but I... I see what you're getting at."

"How did you get away?" Ford asked, placing a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I... ran. I don't remember how I managed to get all the way here but I remembered needing to warn you. I needed to find you." Dipper whispered, feeding the poor man with more lies.

"And... he didn't try to stop you?" Dipper shook his head slowly as if just realizing how weird that was. "No... He did seem... angry but he didn't chase me."

Ford grimly stared at the boy. "Bill doesn't just let people go that easily. Think about it. He has all the power to make you come back but he didn't. I think he wanted you to reach us. He wanted you to warn us."

"So, I'm the bait?" Dipper asked, keeping his voice tight and small. "He let me escape so what? So he could taunt all of you? What purpose would that have?"

Ford hesitated before nodding. "It's possible. The reason behind it, I do not know. Bill is unpredictable and I think he's playing his cards wiser this time. I don't think he's underestimating any of us again." The man paused before continuing, "But listen to me Dipper: whatever he's planning and whatever he did, you are not responsible. You were a child. He preyed on your fear and situation."

Dipper reached out, fingers gently grabbing Ford's wrist. His face etched with fear and determination. "Then let me help. I want to stop him. Please."

And Ford believed him. Because he wanted to. Because he looked into Dipper's eyes and saw sorrow, pain, guilt. He saw a boy that he loved like a son, and he let that influence his better judgement.

In truth, Dipper had carefully planted every hint, every word. The fragmented dreams. The vague references. The lingering dread and confusion. All breadcrumbs for his dear old uncle to follow. And now, Ford was eating away like a clueless little bird. Exactly as planned.

But still... Dipper did care for the old man. Not just as a pawn. Ford was sharp and patient and kind in a way that made something ache in Dipper's chest. He asked what Dipper felt, not what he knew. He never demanded Dipper to be 'better'. Never question the blank stares when the boy was lost in his thought. He didn't flinch when Dipper pretended to cry. Nor did he try to get rid of his own guilt. He never once brought attention to the boy's lacking memory.

Weeks slipped by like that.
Dipper barely left his side. He stayed in the lab while Ford worked, sometimes silently helping him with readings, fetching books and papers, showing interest that made the old man's eyes light up. He asked questions like he used to and listened as Ford explain his plans and theories. Sometimes it felt like old times, and for Dipper, that was the most dangerous feeling of all.
Because he was starting to feel a sort of... love? Protectiveness? And it was all directed at his uncle — a man too wise for his own good. And he could feel Bill was getting jealous.

.

.

.

When Mabel visited, he smiled. Not too wide. Not too small. Just enough to reassure her that things were okay now. That they were siblings again.
She didn't press for more. She thought he had forgiven her. And that suited him just fine.
He knew she didn't actually want the truth—just to stop feeling like she was at fault. So he gave her a hollow peace, and she seemed satisfied with that.

The others came and went too. Wendy gave him playful punches on the arm and told him he looked like a ghost. Soos brought chips and stories. Pacifica asked about his health. Candy, Grenda, even Robbie showed up a few times to just check in or chat a bit.
Dipper played along. He smiled. Laughed at jokes. He remembered their names most of the time. He wore the face they wanted, his mask never cracking.

Though, not everyone was so easily fooled. McGucket said little when they crossed paths. But his eyes lingered a beat too long. He'd frown sometimes when Dipper answered a question, like something didn't sit right. Like he was trying to put together a puzzle he didn't know he had. 

Dipper noticed. Of course he did. But McGucket never said a word. Maybe he didn't want to seem paranoid. Maybe he didn't want to cause drama. Whatever it was, he kept quiet—and Dipper made sure not to give him anything concrete. He'd have to be the first to go. Not because he was a threat or anything. Dipper simply didn't like that he didn't fall for his act.  And honestly? It was such a shame. Not because he cared for man but because his dear Ford seemed to value the old madman. It would break the old man's heart. Oh well.

.

.

.

Then came the night everything changed. Phase 3. 

The news played loudly in the background while Ford worked on calibrating some new perimeter monitors for the inevitable battle.

Dipper sat nearby, feigning interest in an old journal, until the reporter's voice faltered and a loud static burst through the speakers.

The reporter's voice returned. "We're receiving confirmed reports of a widespread surge of unnatural weather events and strange creature sightings across multiple continents. Authorities believe the phenomenon may be linked."

The screen flickered and Ford turned toward the screen. So did McGucket. Dipper stayed where he was, only looking up when he realized that Bill was speeding up their plan. Damn impatient triangle. A small smile tried to carve it's way onto the boy's face, making him pull his lips in a soft, thin line. He can't smile now.

"Multiple governments have confirmed attacks on major cities by entities described as 'abnormal.' Officials are urging evacuation of major cities. Civilian footage shows beasts, shifting geometry, and..."

The camera feed glitched. Static licked at the edges before the woman's voice popped through again.

"...the source appears to be a yellow—"

More static before an image snapped into place. A wide, familiar eye stared out from the screen. Dipper's heart didn't race. But he did allow himself to flinch. Ford was watching to see if he was okay. He let the journal drop from his shaky hands as he slowly rose to his feet.

Bill's triangular form floated at the center of the broadcast, the charred ruins of some distant city beneath him. Corpses littered the broken roads and the mumbled sounds of sizzling flesh rang through the feed. Through the bond, Dipper could feel the thrill radiating off Bill— wild, euphoric, unhinged. He had to stifle another smile that tugged at his lips. His best friend was having the time of his life.

"Heya, Pine Tree," he cooed, voice garbled through the audio feed but unmistakably smug. Even Dipper could barely hear the possessive undertone. "If you're seeing this—and I know you are—then it's time to come home." Behind him, something exploded. Buildings melted like wax. The sky flickered red. 
Jeez Bill, overkill much? Like you care.

"You've had your fun little field trip and smothering up with Sixer. Time's up. I'm getting bored. Come back or this pathetic planet will pay for your cowardness." Then the screen went black.

A second later, screams echoed faintly from the speakers. Raw. Real. Then a loud crash before silence.

McGucket stared at the screen, pale. For how crazy he seemed to be, his stomach curled in disgust and fear.
Ford stood frozen until he saw Dipper's state. He walked over to the teen and wrapped his arms comfortingly around him. Dipper's body tensed for a second before he relaxed and cried into his grunkle's lab coat.
"H—He..." The older man quietly shushed him, telling him it's okay and that he wasn't going to make him go back. For now, he just needed to calm Dipper, then afterward they could talk about what they'll do. 

Chapter Text

Ford, McGucket and of course, Dipper gathered everyone for a meeting the day subsequent to the broadcast. They needed to create a plan. Urgently.

They stood in tense silence at first, a few occasional mutters passing between them with nervous glances but no real ideas surfaced. Dipper sat back, watching from his cozy perch on a ledge behind Ford. His expression was unreadable, his gaze soft but distant. Two months ago, Gravity Falls was so sure they'd be prepared for a similar moment, yet they were still scrambling for a contingency.

They had their dust. They had their unicorn-haired shield. They had their barrier, their bunker, and their so called 'theories'. Yet here they stood — terrified of what's to come.

Ford paced in tight, jerking lines, mumbling theories under his breath like a mantra. He'd known for quite some time what was necessary yet Dipper could tell he was reluctant to rely on that plan.
McGucket was rambling some incompetent nonsense and scrawling frantic notes and symbols. Well, Dipper knew it wasn't really nonsense but he couldn't care less about the man.
The others clustered off to the side of the crowd of residents. All murmuring beneath their breaths, processing the chaos they'd just witnessed on the news.

"We need to contain him." Ford muttered.
He knew how but they weren't ready. Could they every be ready? Dipper said the dream demon was making deals and doing rituals. He was definitely building his strength. And he was inactive until recently so the damned triangle definitely had a plan of sorts. A plan that they did not know.

"If we can't predict his next move, how are we supposed to trap him?" Wendy asked, voice measured but tinged with unease.

Silence followed. Until the words "Gravity Falls." pierced through.
The words were quiet, barely audible above the tension in the room, but they hit like thunder.
Everyone turned to Dipper. He didn't return their looks. His eyes were fixed on Ford. His uncle froze. Staring back. And slowly... he nodded. Of course, Dipper was right.

So Ford began speaking again, this time explaining aloud everything he'd told Dipper in private. The weirdness barrier. The magnetic pull of the town. The experimental dust he and McGucket had crafted. His theories about the deal Dipper may have unknowingly made.
He laid it all out. Mabel and the others weren't very surprised. Afterall, they heard this theory before but the townsfolk erupted in anxious whispers.

"But... bringing him here on purpose?" someone said. "We're not ready! That's suicide!"

"He's coming anyway," another voice replied hoarsely. "You heard about the broadcast. We don't have a choice."

"We can't let him take over everything. We have to do something!"

A long pause. Then, slowly, the room shifted. There were murmurs of reluctant agreement. Hesitation. Doubt. But no better options.

Ford still looked tense, uncertain, but he finally nodded. "Alright. We prepare the town. We make the trap perfect. But if it goes south, we abort. Immediately."

Dipper nodded back once, his fingers trembling just slightly at his sides.

He didn't care what the others thought as long as they went along with the plan, that's all that mattered.

.

.

.

The rest of that day was spent perfecting the plan and gathering the necessary materials. All they needed to do was make a large box infused with the dust and drop it on Bill. The dust should theorethically limit Bill's power and keep him trapped until they can find a way to end him permanently.

Dipper stayed beside Ford for the next two days, assisting in any way possible. He helped to grind and mix the dust until it became liquid. He helped with painting it onto the planks of wood. He helped to nail the box together. He even helped to set the trap! Ford was so proud of his great nephew, such a lovely boy. Even after all he's been through, Dipper was one of the most motivated among them!
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.

The night before Bill's arrival, Dipper found himself in a clearing of a forest. It became one of his two favorite dream sceneries. Though the subtle screeching of sufferring animals, the smell of burnt wood, and the heavy weight on his chest already alerted the brunet that a certain triangle was NOT in a good mood. Such a dramatic little thing.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't my favorite little parasite!" Gold light radiated above Dipper as the sky ripped open to allow for Bill's entrance. Without so much as a glance, the boy took a seat on the usual makeshift bench in the middle of the clearing. The faint hyper static that buzzed in the air was replaced with a stern vibrating echo — extremely unsettling to those that knew of Bill, yet not even a tad bit scary to the teen.

Rather than sitting beside him, Bill opted to float above him in an attempt to maintain eye contact. "I see you're enjoying yourself. Prancing around 'til what-a-clock."

"I came as soon as I could," His Pinetree responded, "You know that. They—"
"I know where you were!" Bill snapped, "With him." His voice spat each syllable with venom. 'With them' the boy wanted to correct but knew better than to do so.

The golden entity scoffed, fixing his bow as he circled Dipper like a predator. His one eye narrowed at the teen, his prey. "People are backstabbing! They weasle their little way into your heart, then bam! Betrayal at the slightest disagreement! Ungrateful wretches!" Dipper rolled his eyes. He hated having to hear about Bill's pent up feelings about Ford. Why was Ford so special that Bill had to monolonge about him so much?

"I'm not going to betray you." The static went silent for a few seconds before errupting again. "Damn right you won't! Or I'll make you life living torture! You'll beg for mercy!"
The tension was stiffling — well, it would have been to anyone other than Dipper. To be honest, he was relishing in it. Delighted even to see Bill all worked up at the thought of Dipper leaving him for Ford. It almost brought a smile to the teen's face. Almost. He still knew his place. Bill held as much power over him as he did over the triangle.

Finally, Bill floated closer, eye only inches from Dipper's. His shadow casted upon the boy's face before the burning sensation of the invisible and invincible string of their bond wrapped around Dipper's spine, heart, mind, and limbs. He crumbled to the ground in seconds, pain enveloping him. It hurt. Damn, it hurt so much... But he could feel the weight in his chest lessen. His counterpart loomed above him, speaking faintly through the pain. There was joy in that eye. Control. Obsession. Bill was obssessed with HIM. Not Ford. Not Mabel. Not anyone else, HIM!
A soft smile etched onto his lips as he felt the pain increase. This was different from when his father did it. Or from Weirdmaggedon. Or when Mabel abandoned him. No, this is something he wanted. Something he craved!

"You've been busy, Pinetree. Spending so much time with your sweet old uncle." The word sounded vile and wrong. Bill glitched between a composed yellow and his brilliant red. It was scary, yes. But not in the 'run for your life' way. More like the 'time to watch a horror movie and enjoy it' way.

"Playing the good little victim, hm? You could've been an actor in another life! Ha! It best be an act." The static spiked for a moment before returning to background noise.
"You know I was." the brunet muttered through the torture.
"I ALSO know that you do care for that... man!" Dipper wanted to retort with a 'So do you' but as much as he enjoyed Bill's full attention, he didn't think he could handle much more pain. He wasn't able to manipulate the bond to such a degree to stop the pain and he doesn't want to reach the pain threshold that'll make him wake up.

"Letting him touch you and talk to you like some animal that's been tamed? Like he's your owner." The corrupted voice echoed as the figure began to circle Dipper again. Watching down on the brunet and seeing him suffer in pain by his hand brought Bill a joy that even he didn't have the words to explain. Having complete control over such a genius as Pinetree, it was almost perfect. It's a shame he couldn't also get Shooting Star like this.
"You think I'm stupid, Pinetree? You think I can't feel your attachment? That he means something?"

"I didn't—"
"DON'T YOU LIE TO ME!" A projection of a smiling Ford, hugging Dipper, flickered into reality. Dipper swallowed, listening to the soft 'You're safe now. I promise.'

Bill... was jealous? No. That's not it. Upset? Definitely. Scared? That's it! The great dream demon was afraid of losing control over HIM! Bill cared so much that he was getting so worked up over a small little attachment! Because of HIM!

The projection shattered and Dipper could feel the surge of thrill and superiority that his friend felt. The triangle stopped glitching. The crazed look in the brunet's eyes, and that obsessed smile reassured Bill of all he needed to know. Dipper was still his. He wasn't going to be replaced. Nor was he going to be betrayed. That boy will continue being his devoted follower to the end of time. The sick bastard was getting a rise out of Bill's anger after all! He was definitely too far gone. And no one, not even Sixer will take that away from him.

The burning pain haulted and the static returned to an overly hyper one as Bill took a seat. "You're crazy."
"Aw. Thank you."

A black hand reached down and slid beneath Dipper's chin, tilting it upward. Not gently. Not roughly. But with a sort of authority that only Bill had over the teen. "Don't make me remind you again who stayed with you through your father, school, the neglect, those thoughts, the hospital, and everything else. You are NOT to go getting attached to any worthless abominations on this planet, other than me! Understood?"

Dipper sighed but nodded nonetheless. For such a powerful entity, Bill sure acts like a jealous little toddler sometimes. Especially now that he can experience something similar to human emotions.

A soft silence spread among the two as Dipper felt his friend fully calm down. The hand droped from the boy's chin and he deemed it as normal again.
"Done throwing a fit now?" With a slight stretch and roll of his shoulders, Dipper stood up and took a seat beside the triangle. Psycho.

"You're enjoying this too much, Pinetree. You're as sick as me."
"So?"
Bill chuckled. This wasn't the same little boy that fought him all those years ago. It'll be so savory to see that look of absolute betrayal on Sixer's face! HA!
Bill's arms opened slowly, his eye softly lifting upwards in a sort of... smile? smirk? Who knows.  He thrived in the way Dipper jumped desperately into his embrace. It was a type of NEED that not even Ford can get from the boy.

"You knew how I'd feel. You felt it the second you let yourself feel those emotions." Bill's voice was soft. Calm. In control.
Dipper knew what he spoke of. He'd felt the jealousy clawing at his skull. The gnawing ache of Bill's fear and desperation for control. He knew. Yet he hadn't stopped.
The bond warmed as Dipper tighten his hold. The triangle was hard, sharp at the edges, and not the most pleasant thing to embrace so tightly yet Dipper did not care. "I'm sorry." He mumbled.
"Atta boy."
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.

.

After what felt like an eternity, Dipper finally let go. They sat on the bench, staring up at the midnight blue and purple hues as Bill formed small, weird variations of the constellation adorning Dipper's forehead.

...........

"Their plan is good. A shame it'll be for nothing all because of a single deal." Came Dipper's voice.

"But let them believe it for a bit, hm?" Dipper's lips curled further into a wide sadistic smile. "Oh~? So devious. Fine, I suppose I could let you have your fun."

Dipper's gaze flicked toward him. A brief nod.
The bond between them quivered like breath on glass. Bill tilted his hat lower, expression unreadable—but his aura rippled with satisfaction.

A soft smile etched onto the boy's face, and if Bill had a mouth he too would've had a small smirk.

They were one. Their essence were twisted and woven together until they could feel each other's thoughts. Their insanity shifting to match — Dipper losing his mind and descending into comforting chaos and Bill feeling more prominent emotions than he ever had, though it was still quite messed up.

"I've missed you." Dipper's small breath came out before he chuckled and continued, "How have your deals been going? Well, I'd pressume?" Dipper relaxed. Bill hummed and for the next few hours Bill ranted on about his past few weeks and ideologies.
He loved how his Pinetree always listened to him so eagerly. How he missed the triangle so much. How, even with Ford re-entering his life, his toy would never abandon him. How his sense of worth was dependent purely on the dream demon. Is this why meatsacks loved to have lesser intelligent beings as 'pets'?

Together, they were a mistake the universe hadn't figured out how to erase.
And neither of them would let it. Not now. Not ever.
Dipper was addicted to Bill's attention, thriving in it— whether that attention was toxic or not, did not matter. And Bill was thrilled by the adrenaline of being in control of a pathetic little human that so desperately looked up to him as though he was their everything.

Chapter Text

The next morning, the team assigned to the execution crew gathered in the town's deserted center.

Mabel stood on top of a stack of boxes so everyone could see her. She clasped her hands behind her back, a bright nervous smile that could rival the rising sun. She raised her voice after her Grunkle gruffly yet loudly told everyone to quit the chatter and listen.
"Okay everyone! Today is our first big step in Operation: Trap Bill! I know we're all nervous or afraid but you've got this! If we don't do this, Bill will take over and eradicate our world again! So we need these practices so we won't make any mistakes when he shows up!"

Her words were loud and nervous yet encouraging to those standing below her. Nervous shoulders loosened and a few determined looks spread among the crowd. Perfect little Mabel... always knowing what to say.

Dipper was with his great uncle Ford, standing at a distance. Ford watched intensely for possible improvements, his battered journal tucked under his arm and his pen sticked between his ear.

Stan, Soos, and Grenda were assigned to the 'heavy duty' crew. They were there to clear any obstacles or bringing anything that they might need.

Mabel, of course, was the leader of the execution team. He task was to relate whatever Ford or McGucket said in a more... encouraging and simplistic way. She was in charge of ensuring that everyone knew their part and to keep their spirits high.

The first attempt was a complete disaster. The second somehow went even worse. Finally, Mabel called everyone over, making them sit down in a loose circle. Her voice lost some of its usual sunshine, edged with seriousness.

"Guys, we need to focus. This isn't just some school play where we can call timeout or start over if we mess up. Out there, there are no second chances. I know this is new and uncomfortable, but we have to treat it like the real thing. Forgetting your cues, zoning out, complaining about the heat-that's the kind of stuff that's going to get us hurt. Or worse." She paused, scanning their uneasy faces before softening her tone, "And another thing-you're too stiff. Too tense. If we look like we're following a script, the enemy will know something's up. We need to flow naturally, like we've done this a hundred times before. So let's take a quick break and try again. Okay?"
The group exchanged guilty glances, eyes dropping to the ground. One by one, they nodded.

Ford made a few notes to improve on the trap to make it faster and more fluent. McGucket and Dipper worked on implementing those improvements while the other continued practicing.

By the end of the day, everyone was exhausted but the pieces were finally starting to click. Everyone had learned their roles. Most got their lines down. And most of the improvements were already implemented. Mabel vibrantly complimented the team as they decided to return to the bunker and call it a day. They still had much more practicing to do to better their flow but progress was progress.

Dipper didn't sleep that night. He remained with Ford on the surface, where a night watch team, containing of the more stealthy creatures of Gravity Fall's forest, watched over the containment box - the very thing that had Ford and him up there. The man was inspecting it. Stan was right, he truly was a workaholic...

There was another night watch team, one consisting of a few townsfolk, at the town's center.
That was the unfortunate team to witness Bill's arrival.
It began as simple stillness and a flicker of the laterns' flames. Then came the nerve-wrecking laughter of the psychopath as the sky seemed to fold in on itself. The lanterns' flames grew wild, their light stretching unnaturally across the square. Then, with a sickening pop, the glass casings burst, sending shards scattering. Fire licked up the wood frames of the nearby buildings as a laugh tore through the night.

That laugh. It was the kind that dug into bone, that crawled along the spine and lingered like spoilt food in your mouth.

Above the founder's statue, the sky ripped open. A jagged tear peeled outward like golden paper, spilling blinding light and impossible geometry. Out of it coalesced the unmistakable form of Bill Cipher.

The air warped with a pressure that made it hard to breathe. The night watch crew- five townsfolk armed with little more than lanterns, radios, and borrowed bats- stumbled back, faces pale in the shimmering glow.

"Wh-what do we do?!" one hissed, clutching his radio like it could ward off the dream demon.

Before anyone could answer, Bill's laugh cracked through the square again. He hovered above them, spinning slowly, his bowtie twisting with each rotation like some grotesque parody of a game show host.

"WELL, WELL, WELL! WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE? A LITTLE WELCOME PARTY? YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE!" His voice rattled the windows that hadn't yet shattered, syrupy-sweet and venomous at once.

One of the watch members, a thin man named Casey, raised his bat with trembling hands. Behind him stood a frightened woman.

Bill tilted, his eye narrowing in exaggerated offense. "OOH! THE TOUGH GUY ROUTINE! HOW ADORABLE. TELL YOU WHAT-LET'S MAKE THIS INTERESTING. HOW MANY OF YOU THINK YOU CAN SURVIVE THE NEXT... TWENTY SECONDS?" He snapped his fingers.

The shadows cast by the fires suddenly stretched upward, peeling themselves off the ground. They twisted into jagged, claw-like shapes and lashed out. It reached up for the woman and Casey pushed her out of the way. He screamed as a shadowy hand wrapped around his throat, yanking him into the air. His body flailed like a puppet as the shadow squeezed tighter-until there was a sickening crack, and the limp figure was dropped into the dirt.

She bolted for the radio, fumbling with the dial as tears rapidly escaped her tear ducts. Bill's form zipped across the square in a flash of gold, blocking her path. "GOING SOMEWHERE? RUDE. I WAS JUST STARTING THE SHOW!"

The woman managed to press the button, voice cracking as she shouted, "H-He's here! Bill's here! He-"

Before she could say more, Bill flickered the woman on the head and with a warped ripple, the poor guard folded in on herself like paper, compressing into a flat, two-dimensional cutout. The radio clattered to the ground, still crackling with static, as the flat cardboard-like figure drifted lifelessly to the ground.

"DON'T WORRY, I LEFT THE RADIO ON-GOTTA KEEP THE AUDIENCE ENTERTAINED!" Bill cackled, spreading his arms wide.

The remaining two tried to run. One didn't make it far-his shadow detached mid-step and pinned him to the cobblestones, enveloping him until the man was nothing but a smear of blood on the ground.

The last one sprinted toward the alley. Bill let him get nearly out of sight before snapping his fingers. The alley warped, stretching on endlessly, doors multiplying along the walls. He pounded on them in desperation, each one opening to reveal an eye staring back at him, until his own scream was heard and the alley snapped back to normal. All signs of him gone.

Silence returned, broken only by the roar of the spreading fire. Bill floated above the square, arms outstretched, drinking in the chaos.

"MMM. NOTHING LIKE A LITTLE MIDNIGHT SNACK TO GET THE PARTY STARTED! NOW WHERE IS THAT LITTLE PINETREE. HM..."

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.

The shrill crackle of the radio tore through the bunker, dragging everyone from sleep. Voices stammered over static, panic and terror in every word. "H-He's here! Bill's here! He-"

The townsfolk froze, eyes wide, gripping blankets, radios, and each other.
Mabel's eyes went wide, but she quickly squared her shoulders. "Okay, team! Listen to me! We have a job to do, and panicking won't help anyone! Follow your positions, stick to the plan, and keep moving!"
Wendy, Candy, and a handful of other townsfolk shuffled nervously behind her, clutching ropes, lanterns, and whatever improvised tools they could grab. Their faces were pale, hands trembling, eyes darting to the radio every few seconds.

Stan barked orders over the chaos, distributing crates of equipment and pulling cords taut. "Here! Take the grapples! Take the lights! Move it, move it! No hesitation, no whining!"
Mabel's voice cut through their fear like a spark. "Keep close! Don't look back! Remember, we're a team. If we stick together and do exactly what we practiced, we'll be fine!"

Despite their nerves, the extraction team followed her, lanterns swaying as they ascended the bunker's stairwell. Their footsteps echoed with tense urgency, a rhythm punctuated by the crackling radio reminding them of the horrors still unfolding in the town square.

Meanwhile, Pacifica and Stan stayed behind in the main control room. They huddled around a cluster of low-quality body cams and the radio, watching the extraction team's progress in real-time.

.

.

.

When the team drew close to the buildings, they gasped in horror. It was all mostly smoke, fire and the smell of ash. Bill hovered above it all, his eye shining like a sun. He held a cane in one hand and lazily fiddled with his bow with his other hand. He was waiting... Probably on them to give Dipper up but they'd never do that!

His voice glitched as he confirmed their suspicion, "COME ON PINETREE! HOW MANY OF YOUR FRIENDS DO I HAVE TO KILL FOR YOU TO SHOW UP?" His eye flickered to them, causing a chill to run down their spine. This better work...

The team split up, not a single word needing to be said. Mabel took the main team, rushing in. Their goal was simple but dangerous: make the plan seem chaotic enough that Bill would underestimate them and create a distraction for Candy's group.
Candy took a smaller group around through the alleys. They were dressed in darker clothing with the hope of catching the dream demon off guard and weakening him so he doesn't immediately kill the bait. Luckily, Ford and Dipper were right; Bill was only toying around with them. Underestimating them as soon as Mabel's group rushed in 'without a plan' .
Wendy's squad was almost as large as Mabel's. Their job was to protect the trap until it was time, ensure the deployment of the trap, and help keep the bait alive so they can lead Bill to the trap.

Candy and her crew moved stealthily behind the demon as he laughed. He was giving some long speech on how he'd spare them if they handed Dipper over. All they needed to wait for the signal and jump onto Bill, latching the glowing sigil, that Ford gave them, onto Bill's hard, triangular back.

A few seconds later, Candy spotted the signal from Mabel as a townsfolk charged at Bill, throwing a glitter bomb at Bill's eye. He groaned in pain, clutching his eye for a moment. Perfect!

"Now!" Candy whispered to her team and two townsfolk jumped forward, both carrying a sigil.
Bill's eye snapped open with a laugh and the concrete rose into two large spikes, impaling the two. They choked on their blood before their eyes desperately looked at Candy for help and then, their body went limp. The sigils slowly fell to the ground below them, covered in their dripping blood. Crap...

From the shadows, monstrous forms emerged: towering, humanoid beings made of black smoke and broken glass; hawk-like creatures with glowing eyes and jagged claws ; twisted, spider-legged animals that skittered across the cobblestones.

The extraction team scrambled, forcing themselves into defensive formations as the horrifying creatures lurched at them.

A giant smoke creature lunged at Mabel. She swung at it, missing as it sunk into the floor and reappear at her side. She tuned out the screams around her, trying her best to keep her head leveled and survive. She swung at it again, barely dodging its clawed appendage but a shimmering bubble of golden energy appeared behind her, expanding ominously.

Candy was the first to spot it as she pushed the kicked one of the warped spider-animal thingy off her. What even were those things? That didn't matter at the moment. She called out to warn the brunette but Mabel couldn't here her over all the screams and clashes.

No... No! NO! She couldn't let anything happen to her friend!

The bubble surrounded Candy. Her form was frozen and crystalizing into stone. Her determined yet fearful expression etched into the stone as she turned fully. Her hands out reached with a fearful smile as Mabel looked up from her position on the ground. The shadowy creature reappeared again, pushing the stone girl to the floor and shattering her. Mabel staggered, grief-stricken, tears blurring her vision.

Bill's attention snapped to her immediately. His golden shine brightened in glee at the girl's pain. "SO HEROIC! A SHAME IT'LL BE FOR NO-" The burning feeling of the sigil on his back overcame him and in a fit of rage the man that had placed it was turned to ash.

Mabel's hands shook, tears streaking her face. Candy's sacrifice had hit her like a hammer, and for a heartbeat she forgot everything except the stone pieces laying where her friend had been. The creature that caused this had left her for some other poor soul.

Bill's laughter sliced through her grief. The golden eye fixed on her, growing larger, more focused. He was going to end her... He...

"Stay calm... stay calm," she muttered to herself as she forced herself to stand. Each step was deliberate, guiding Bill through the open streets and toward the forest path. Her heart hammered in her chest as she whispered encouragement to herself. Every scream, every distorted creature, threatened to break her concentration but she had a plan, and she couldn't let Bill take advantage of her emotions. For Dipper... She had to do this for her brother! Her friends! Candy... The world. She needed to pull herself together!

She darted to the side as one of the hawk-like creatures swept forward to grab her. She could hear the shrieks of Wendy and her team behind her as she ran through the forest line, arrows thudding into the glassy monsters. Now it was just her and Bill. The sigils should prevent him from just turning her to ash immediately.... She just needed to get to the trap!

.

.

.

Wendy crouched behind a broken tree, eyes flicking between the shadows and the twisted forms that Bill summoned. A spider-legged creature skittered across the clearing, its mandibles snapping inches from her head. She struck her axe between the monster's eyes and it let out a piercing wail before disintegrating into black smoke.

Behind her, her team and some of Gravity Falls woodland creatures fought vigorously, holding the creatures at bay. Some were dead; others were screaming, dodging, or impaled. Each strike was a fight for survival and to buy Mabel time.

"Hold them! Don't let them escape!" she screamed, deflecting a jagged glass wraith with a metal rod. Her leather jacket was shredded, arm bleeding, but she refused to falter. Every second they bought Mabel was a second closer to sealing Bill in the trap.

.

.

.

The chaos was delicious. Every scream, every flicker of terror, every flawed attempt at strategy made his grin widen. It was so laughable.

Then, there was Shooting Star. The grief, the heartbreak, the open vulnerability — it made him hunger for her suffering. Yet he could sense the others' coordination, feel the tug of the sigil, feel the trap closing in... They were clever, determined, and desperate.

Dipper had refused to tell him their plan, even going as far as restricting Bill from going into his memories to check. It was for the boy's own twisted entertainment to see if their plan would've actually worked. He wanted to see Bill actually get captured and lose... until it was time for him to step in. Bill really was such an amazing influence!

.

.

.

Mabel led Bill down the narrow forest paths. Every heartbeat was a countdown, every step closer to the activation.

"Now!" Mabel whispered through the radio but no one responded. What? Where were they?! Did they get lost? Died? Crap!

Bill laughed at her panic before tossing the corpse to Mabel. It was the girl that was suppose to activate the trap.

Oh no... This was it. She was going to die... They were all going to die. They fa-
Within seconds, the box flared with energy, snapping shut around Bill. The creatures disintegrated, the golden light twisted and screamed, and then silence burst alive.

The survivors stumbled out into the clearing, bloodied, torn, grieving. Those watching from the few body cameras that were still intact, cheered happily in the bunker. Ford walked out from the shadows to reveal that he was the one that activated the box mechanism. Wendy's jacket was shredded, blood streaking her arm. Most of the leather was stained in crimson red. That'll take forever to wash out but it's okay. They won!

Mabel sank to her knees, shaking, weeping for the friends and townsfolk lost, but relief bloomed through her chest.

Bill was contained.

Chapter Text

Bill was trapped. For the first time that night, Ford allowed himself to sit. The box stood in the center of a makeshift camp. Its carved symbols glowing faintly, holding the dream demon tight within its walls. Every muffled thump and knock against the wood reminded them that he was contained. It was music to the townsfolks' ears. They won! Against all odds, they had somehow managed to beat Bill Cipher! THE Bill Cipher! 

Around Ford, relief oozed from each person as people embraced each other, cried, or even laughed. Torches lit the darkened sky as voices rose in song and dances emerged around the fire. This frail old lady across from him smiled at the bursting fireworks overhead. Similarly to him, she had no energy or will to join the youngsters in their celebration, but it was comforting to know the world was safe now. 

The entire town - well, those that remained - was so lively. They celebrated Bill's defeat and the lives sacrificed by those in battle.  It was inspiring that even the youngest among them, a 5 year old boy had rather celebrate those sacrifices made in honor, than mourn for those gone. 

Of course, Ford hadn't joined in on their joyous celebration. He sat staring up at the fireworks like the old lady but he wore no smile on his face. His mind raced. They had contained him. HE had contained him but they hadn't destroyed him. And he had no idea how to do so. The damned triangle had slipped through worse traps in the past. If there was one thing Ford was certain of is that Bill always found a loophole in the end. The real question was how long they had to find a way to destroy him before the dream demon found a way out? Weeks? Days? Hours even? How many more lives would be taken if Bill did slip out? Would they even be able to contain him again?
There had been so many loss already... So many lives given for this moment. He couldn't fail now. He had to find a way but how? 

A large, rough hand laid heavily on his shoulder, pulling him to reality.

"Hey," Stan said so quietly that even Ford barely heard him. "Don't get too lost in that head of yours. Not now. We're alive. That's enough for now."

Ford looked up, startled. His brother wasn't smiling, as expected, but there was a glint in his eyes that comforted Ford. The kind that let him know that the two will forever be together from now on. With a sigh, Ford nodded.

Meanwhile, the box thrummed softly, almost like a purr. But with each passing minute, the vibration grew more intense and the symbols glowed brighter in mixes of gold and blue. It took quite a while - until the third crack actually before Ford noticed. Something wasn't right....

-

Mabel dashed through the forest, a flashlight in hand as she cut between the trees. "Dipper! Dipdottt! Where are youuu?!" 

Her lungs burned from all the walking but she pushed forward. She couldn't stop. Dipper had stumbled pass the tree line, muttering about a splitting headache and something about his stomach before he emptied his lunch on the floor and disappeared. That had been nearly 40 minutes ago. 

She wanted to celebrate with him. They had beaten Bill and lived to tell the tale! SHE had beaten Bill! Wasn't Dipper happy? Why did he leave the campsite? She wanted to wrap him in a hug so tight that maybe, just maybe, he'd start to heal from everything that monster had put him through. Dipper deserved joy after everything. He deserved to smile again.

Her heart weighed heavy. Candy's face flickered in her mind, her last act of courage replaying over and over. Mabel swallowed hard, "I'll celebrate for you too, Candy. I promise." 

-

Deeper in the same woods, another figure stumbled between the trees. He clutched his head in agony as he trudged forward. His breaths came ragged, his stomach burned as though he'd swallow poison. His legs felt heavy, every step a battle. He pressed a hand to his temple, vision swimming, chest tight with nausea. It wasn't just exhaustion or some mere illness. No. This was different. This was beyond the 'funny' type of pain. This felt like his soul was being torn apart! 

It felt like half of him was missing. He could feel it. The farther he staggered from the campsite, the sharper the ache became, every step pulling at something deep inside. Still, he forced himself onward. He had to know if Ford had uncovered anything else, some secret he hadn't shared, some weapon that might one day be turned against Bill.
And then... then he would have to return. He would have to free Bill.

He hadn't expected the pain to be this unbearable, but maybe he should have. After all, half of him was locked away in that box.

At some point, he collapsed against a tree, bile rising in his throat. Damn it...

-

Meanwhile, at the campsite, worry had started to plague the townsfolk. 

Ford was inspecting the box. There were these huge cracks oozing a sort of gold-blue liquid that burned the grass below the box. The previously soft purr was now like a violent roar and the box quaked with such intensity that it almost felt like a mini earthquake. 

"Everyone, back to the bunker!" Wendy shouted, her axe glinting as she herded the terrified townsfolk back toward the direction of the bunker. Stan echoed her orders, shoving supplies into bags and telling people to move faster.

Pacifica looked around worriedly. Where were Mabel and Dipper? 

The fire hissed as it dimmed further and further until it died completely. It's embers scattered as the box's cracks got larger. Ford was inspecting it, mumbling to himself that it was impossible for Bill to break out by sheer power so quickly. It was unnatural. The box was supposed to be able to contain all of Bill's essence, not allowing any to escape or exist outside the container so how was he doing this? 

Stan called loudly for him and he turned away just as another, much larger, crack split down the center, glowing so bright that it momentarily blinded everyone there. 

-

Mabel broke through the tree line. She had decided to return and celebrate with the others. For Candy. But when she got there, it was deserted. She heard distant screams and laughter. The box was no where to be seen and this thick sizzling liquid replaced it. The fire had out and even the wind felt like it was winter... but it wasn't. The place was a completely thrashed. How didn't she hear this commotion? How far into the forest had she gone? Is everyone okay? What happened?

There were half packed duffle bags, broken cameras and flashlights, an old discarded notebook - Grunkle Ford's notebook! 
She picked it up carefully and stuffed it into her hoodie. There wasn't any statues or blood or weirdness bubbles, so that had to mean they got away... right? She should head back to the bunker! That's where everyone will go! But... Dipper is still out there somewhere... She needed to find him now more than ever and warn him!

-

However, said boy was starting to feel better. His head still felt like it was splitting apart and he couldn't even form a proper thought other than he needs to search Ford's lab completely. But he no longer felt like his soul was being brutally shredded, which allowed him to focus on what was important: searching Ford's lab from top to bottom. The headache was probably just residual pain. Why did it ease anyway? Whatever, it doesn't matter.

He staggered through the cluttered room, grabbing notebooks and odd devices that caught his eye.  Ford hadn't discovered anything too important from what he could see. But just in case, he should probably burn it down. Maybe it'll be as pretty as the hospital was~

When he felt satisfied with his stolen goods, he turned toward the door to leave... except McGucket was blocking his way as his eyes flickered between the messy floor, half-opened bag of Ford's research, and Dipper's eyes. 

A slow smile crept onto his face as the man questioned him. That damned old man should've just minded his own business. 

With no hesitation, the teen dropped his backpack and lunged forward. His hands slapped harshly against the skin of McGucket's neck. The frail man fell to the floor under the boy's weight, hitting his head against the floor in the process. For the next few seconds, Dipper felt nothing but a rush - the way McGucket's hands clawed desperately for mercy, his eyes pleaded and frantically looked around as his breath made some disgusting sounds.
He sounded like a dying fish that was left on the shore - so close to water, to life, yet so so very far. It was funny so he laughed. It was just like him. Pathetic little Dipper being deprived of air by his father... except this time Dipper wasn't the one that looked and sounded so pitiful and desperate. 

The boy pushed and held until all fight left the other man's body. Even then he continued to press until a loud crack broke him free from his delusions. Right... this was just the old crazed man... not... Whatever. 
He stood up, chest heaving. The ache in his head returned as the adrenaline slowly drained from his body. With a shaky breath, he wiped his tears and hoisted his backpack onto his back. 

Almost emotionlessly, he picked up two cans of gasoline and begun to pour it throughout the entire base. With great expertise, he walked out of the base and dropped a lit match before hurriedly leaving the area. 

-

"Kid, look out!" Wendy shouted as she lunged forward, scooping up the five-year-old boy. Pain tore through her leg less than a second later. The bird-like creature's talons scraped across her thigh, tearing away a strip of flesh. She staggered, nearly dropping the child. Damn it. She had to get this kid back to the group. Stan was already leading everyone toward the bunker when the boy's mother realized he'd gone missing. Why hadn't she just held on to him in the first place?!

Wendy bit her lip in pain as blood oozed hot and fast from the wound. The bird-like creature let out a loud screech as it swooped down for another attack, but before it could touch them its head fell to the ground, the body following shortly after. Shortly after, its body dissolved into smoke and she collapsed to the ground in pain.
The little boy she saved scooted closer to her side. He held out a trembling hand with a small car themed band-aid. "Mr. Snuffles say to always say to put a band-aid on your booboos...." Carefully, he pressed the band-aid onto the edge of her gash. 

It was laughably small, useless against the streaming blood but it pulled a weak, crooked smile from Wendy. "Thanks, champ," she muttered, forcing her shaking hands to work. She peeled off her blood-stained leather jacket, grimacing as she wrapped it tightly over the wound. She wasn't sure if she'd tied it right, but it should manage until she gets to the bunker for actual medical supplies.

"Come on, kid..." Wendy gritted out, using a nearby tree to haul herself upright. Her leg screamed in protest, and she nearly buckled again, until another arm slipped around her shoulders to steady her.

She glanced sideways and saw Pacifica, a little out of breath but determined.
"I was looking for Mabel and Dipper when I heard you scream," the blonde admitted, voice wavering. "I... didn't find either of them, but let's get you two back to the others."

Relief softened Wendy's pain-pinched face. She gave a faint, grateful smile and leaned some of her weight against Pacifica.

-

Somewhere within the forest, Mabel ran through the thick, overgrown trees. She had no idea where her feet were carrying her. All she knew was that she needed to fond her brother before Bill does. Her desperate voice echoed through the trees. Actually, she needs to find Dipper before Bill fins either of us! "Dipper! Dipppeeeerrrrrrrr! 

Finally, she saw him hunched over against a tree. He was definitely vomiting again.. Gross. Right, he left earlier saying he didn't feel well. Now she understood just how bad it really was. Mabel sprint toward him, her legs crying out from being overused but she didn't care. Her brother was clearly sick or something! And right now, she needed to get him to safety. To the bunker specifically. 

"Dipper!" She cried, skidding to a halt to avoid tumbling into him. At first he didn't look up - too busy emptying his guts. But after a few seconds, he wiped his mouth against the sleeve of his jacket and looked up wearily. Great... Just who he needed to see. His oh so loving sister. 

"M-Mabel? I... It hurts." He groaned, not particularly lying. His voice was hoarse and raw. It hurt the girl's heart to hear him so weak yet it wasn't time for sympathy.

"I know brobro but you need to listen to me!" She crumbled to the floor beside him, tears welling in her big brown eyes. "The box broke! I-I don't know how long ago but I'm assuming everyone is headed to the bunker. We need to go! Bill will be looking for you!" 

He blinked up at her, groaning. "Mabel... I don't... I don't think I can. My head feels like it's splitting in half. I thought if I got away from camp, it would help, but it's just... worse..." His voice cracked, soft and trembling.

Her face softened with pity. "Oh, Dip... it's probably because of everything with Bill. It has to be. That creep was still messing with you even when he's trapped! Especially now that he's free again! But listen, we really gotta go. We have to get to safety!"

Dipper lowered his gaze, his lips pulling into a tight line. "So that's why... it stopped hurting so much," he murmured under his breath. Mabel tilted her head, but before she could question him, he forced a shaky smile and nodded. "Okay. Let's get to the bunker. You're right."

Relieved, Mabel slipped an arm under his, helping him stand, and together they slowly walked through the forest. She didn't notice the glimmer in his eyes. The way he seemed zoned out or the way that his pain a bit more over time.

-

Ford's chest heaved as he clawed at the grass withholding him. He was trying to find his nephew to get him to safety but instead he ran into his old 'friend'. The grass had become like vines, restraining him to the ground as Bill loomed over him. 

Ford tried looking around for anything sharp to cut him out but there was none.  "Well, well, well." Bill's condescending laughter boomed through the clearing, "All that prep and planning, your big ol' scheme to lock me away and yet you still end up exactly were you belong, Sixer. Beneath me!" 

Ford's throat tightened. He tried not to show his fear and give Bill that satisfaction but the death that loomed above his head made it difficult. He'd failed. He failed everyone. He failed Dipper and Mabel. And now, he was going to die to the hands of the very being he's dedicated years of his life to stopping. 

Bill raised his burning hand, "SO LONG SIXER!" Ford shut his eyes, preparing for the final blow but it never came. When he hesitantly and confusedly opened his eyes, his breath froze. Dipper? What was he doing here? Is Mabel with him? He needs to get out of here! 

As Ford struggled more against the vines, his nephew stood in front of him. Dipper's head was tilted upward, one hand braced against the side of his head, fighting back a headache but his feet stayed firmly planted to the ground. That battered backpack that Ford had given him clung to his shoulders and his brown eyes burned in quiet defiance as he maintained eye contact with Bill. 

For a few long seconds, time seemed to still. Even nature seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. Mabel was still froze in fear and pure shock of what had occurred within the past minute.

Finally, Bill released a long, exaggerated sigh. "FINE! HAVE IT YOUR WAY, PINETREE BUT YOU'RE COMING WITH ME!" Before Ford could even process what had happened, Bill's massive hand closed around the boy and hoisted him into the air.

"DIPPER!" The brunette's voice cracked with terror as she snapped out of her frozen state. Her heart pounded in her chest as she raced through the clearing. When she had almost reached, the earth split open between them and Bill. With a sadistic glint in his eye, Bill lowered Dipper slightly toward Mabel. Her brother was blacked out, limp in Bill's hand. He dangled so close to her, yet too far for her to reach. She stretched her hand out, risking falling in the canyon that had opened yet still she was barely a few inches out of reach. When tears finally began to stream her cheeks, Bill laughed and withdrew his toy.

The air shifted, winds swirled to create a massive tornado of red and blue flames as the forest tore itself open. Within the midst of the storm, a blinding light spread throughout the clearing. From it a pyramid materialized. it's shadow engulfing the land below it in a void where creatures clawed their way out. From the forest floor, deers with mouths instead of eyes clawed their way out of void-like tears in the earth. From the sky, screeching birds with human jaws flew out of similar tears. The sounds of cracking bones and smell of tar, smoke, and burnt flesh abused their senses.

Finally, as Bill floated up to his Fearamid, Ford managed to break free from the now dying vines. "We need to fall back and find the others!" He said as he yanked her back from the tornado. 

"No! He has Dipper! W-We need to do something! To save-" 

"We can't stop Bill like this! We need to go." He stated, tugging her away. They weren't far from the edge of Gravity Falls. The barrier was still up, hopefully that meant they'd at least be safe from the creatures Bill created. 

-

Meanwhile, deeper in the forest, the townsfolk had managed to reach the bunker, only to find it ablaze. The structure that was once a safe haven was now nothing but a collapsing inferno. Nobody said it aloud but they all knew who to blame: Bill. The flames were too hot and too high to enter and there were no one outside except Soos' grandmother who had stepped out for some fresh air and fell asleep against a tree a few feet from the bunker. Though, she was already asleep before it was set ablaze and had no knowledge of there being a fire until they woke her. 

The group had no choice to move on. Stan took command, barking commands to keep moving. They couldn't stop. They couldn't rest. They didn't have that sort of time with Bill loose. Hesitation could mean death. He really wished his brother was here... He hopes he's alright. 

The plan was to go to the Shack. It would definitely be overcrowded but it was their only backup safe space but halfway there the world around them begun to tear apart into chaos. The sky split with jagged cracks of blinding light, as if reality was glass being shattered. The earth rumbled beneath their feet. And from these cracks, horrors emerged. Creatures that no sane mind could have conjured flew from the skies and clawed up from the soil like a zombie movie. Things with too many wings, too many teeth, shapes that flickered and warped like nightmares given flesh. Bill was once again the one to blame. How had he gotten so much power? Luckily, their was no rift to the Nightmare Realm... but for how long?

The townsfolk screamed and scattered, but Stan shouted over the chaos, "Stay together! MOVE!" He remembered Ford's endless rambling about the barrier and how it might cage Bill within Gravity Falls like it did last time. It had seemed paranoid before but right now it was their only shot at survival.

"Get to the edge of town! We head for the barrier!" Stan ordered, his voice gruff but firm.

Soos and Melody took the lead with Grenda, Sheriff Blubs, and Deputy Durland fanning out around the edges to redirect the panicking people and keep the line moving. Wendy leaned heavily against Pacifica, blood soaking through the jacket around her leg, but her axe still rested tightly in her grip. Injured or not, she wasn't about to be dead weight.

The group pushed forward, fighting their way through the madness. Blubs and Durland fired their weapons at the creatures to little effect, though the sound alone bought precious seconds. Grenda swung a broken tree branch with a war cry, felling anything foolish enough to get close. Soos kept the weaker townsfolk shielded, Melody staying close at his side even after a beast lashed out, clawing her arm. She hissed through the pain but didn't slow down.

And through it all, Pacifica surprised them all with her ferocity. One birdlike monstrosity swooped down, talons spread wide, only for the blonde to hurl a rock square into its eye. "Back off, freak!" she snapped, grabbing a sharpened stick and jabbing at its wing until it shrieked and reeled away. 

But their moment of awe didn't last. Another birdlike creature, larger and faster than the other, dove from the cracked sky with such stealth and silence that no one saw it coming. Its claws seized Pacifica from behind before anyone could react or see it coming.

"PACIFICA!" Wendy roared, trying to lunge after her, but her injured leg buckled without the girl's support. The blonde twisted in the creature's grasp, thrashing, fighting with everything she had as the monster carried her skyward. 

Stan cursed to himself as he hurled a rock that fell far short. "Damn it! Keep moving! We'll get her back!" he shouted, though even he wasn't sure if the promise was one he could keep.... If the girl would even live. Mabel would be devasted... Hopefully Ford found the twin. 

With no choice but to press on, the battered group pushed forward, driven by desperation and Stan's bellowing orders. Behind them, the sky spiraled into a swirl of madness. Ahead, only the barrier offered even a sliver of hope.

And above them all, Bill's newly-formed Fearamid cast its shadow over Gravity Falls. This nightmare had only just begun. 

Chapter Text

It had been almost a year since Gravity Falls became home to the Fearamid. The world had changed greatly beneath Bill's rule but still far more sober than Ford and the others had expected. In fact, the fact that the Earth was still in one piece was miracle in itself.

Governments toppled overnight; leaders either kneeled to Bill or were turned into dinner. Unnatural geometry spiked from buildings, colours changed, time stopped. The sun took a triangular shape and the moon a pinetree-like shape. Rivers flowed uphill, deserts sprouted weird shaped nightmarish plants of teeth and bones. Forests turned to a wasteland for shadowy creatures that killed on sight.

And yet... somehow... life went on. 

Humans were stubborn little creatures that learned to adapt quickly. It wasn't completely apocalyptic. Life carried on as usual. The differences were small. Don't upset Bill under any circumstances. If you do for whatever reason, plead your case and pray to God for mercy and maybe you'd be saved. Avoid any shadow creatures or any odd creatures for that matter. Everything else was mostly harmless. 

In fact, with how chaotic and difficult agriculture has become, humans had learned that most creatures altered by Bill's magic were still edible. Money was no longer needed for things. A system of bartering was readapted. Furthermore, life had become much more skill-based. Survival was a chance, yet somehow most humans went about their day relatively normal. 

Farmers learned where were safe to plant and how to harvest their plants. Families learned how and when they can set out during the day. Kids were taught these necessary rules as soon as they began schooling. The few cities that remained in tact were due to deals made by government officials and complete surrender. 

Bill left Earth (mostly) alone. Dipper and him had a deal. He could do whatever he wanted with the universe but he wasn't allowed to eradicate the boy's home planet. Of course that didn't mean he couldn't... fix it to his liking.

Dipper wasn't well known to the public. All the citizens of Earth knew him as Bill's shadow. A figure standing close to the dream demon, his voice sometimes carrying over when Bill addressed nations. Rumors spread fast: some theorized it was an advisor, others thought it was another creature like Bill, and some said it was a prisoner unable to leave. But the truth was far simpler. 

To Dipper, Bill wasn't a tyrant. So what if they were working on recreating a rift to the nightmare realm on another planet? Bill was keeping his promise of allowing Earth to live. Bill was his friend. His best friend. His brother even.

One evening, Bill had dragged Dipper out to one of his summonings in an old abandoned building of New York, insisting that it was 'good for him to leave the Fearamid every once in a while'. 

The walls were lined in runes and symbols. Only a few months after Bill's overthrow of Earth, humans found ancient symbols from egyptian times and learned that using Bill's summoning circle can 'summon' him. Though, now it doesn't work like before. He won't just appear, but instead feel a slight tug to the spot and know someone is attempting to summon him. He now has a choice of whether he wants to go or not. 

A group knelt on the hard concrete ground, robes smeared with ash and blood, voices low and eager as Bill and Dipper entered the disgrace of a place. Bill summoned a chair before floating off to see what these fleshbags wanted. 

Dipper sat, chin rested against his palm as he half-listened to this ordeal. Cultists usually wanted the same things: power, revenge, knowledge but tonight, the robed figures begged for protection in exchange for loyalty and disciples. 

Dipper yawned. He'd stopped keeping track of the bargains months ago. To him, the real entertainment came from watching Bill. The way his energy filled the room and the way his voice rumbled through the bones of everyone present. The power of Bill, the knowledge Bill possessed, the way Bill would never leave him was what kept Dipper so hooked.

At some point through the entire process, Dipper spotted a knife in the robe of one of the cultist but he remained quiet. Bill could handle himself. In fact, he want to see the triangle retaliate. Alas, his anticipation was short lived. One of men stupidly lunged forward with a shimmering liquid as the others began chanting together. 

Bill didn't even flinch. With a snap of his fingers, the liquid flew back onto the person's mask, seeping through the creases and eye holes and attaching the guy's head, eating him alive. He threw his mask on the ground, hollering in pain as he tried and failed to scrap it off. 

"Pathetic." Dipper muttered. 

The cultists scattered, some still chanting desperately, others stumbling over each other in blind panic.  "Haha! Look at them run like little ants!" A large shoes poofed into existence above two cultists, crushing them with a satisfying crunch. 

Dipper's lips quirked into a faint smile, though he didn't lift his chin from his hand. "Told you it'd be entertaining." Bill glanced at him, his eye glowing as he hunted each cultist down and brutally erased them. This was all a game. A fun little game that Bill can enjoy and Dipper can watch. He loved seeing Bill having so much fun. It always made their bond pulse faintly. Half a decade ago, Dipper would've probably hated to watch this. But now... Now, it was so normal to him. 

As the last cultist crumbled into a smear of ash, silence spread through the ruined building. Bill twirled in the air, triumphant, sparks of blue and gold trailing from his aura.

"WHEW! NOTHING LIKE A LITTLE BETRAYAL TO GET THE BLOOD PUMPING. FIGURATIVELY, OF COURSE. WHAT A SHOW, PINE TREE! ADMIT IT, I NAILED THAT PERFORMANCE!"

Dipper smirked faintly, dragging his hand across his cheek as if brushing away imaginary dust. "Yeah. You always do."

Bill preened at the praise, spinning himself into a lazy tilt. Their bond pulsed again, warm and steady.

But then came the sound. It was quiet. A whimper maybe?

Dipper blinked and straightened in his chair, head tilting toward the far corner where rubble and bent iron bars now lay in heaps. At first, he thought it was just one of the cultists not entirely vaporized. But then another sound came. A high-pitched sob.

"...Did you hear that?" Dipper asked quietly, sitting up.

Bill cocked his massive body sideways like a bird, his eye narrowing. "Of course I do. I have better hearing than you."

"Not better depth perception though." Dipper smiled sweetly as he retorted before turning his attention back to where the sound came from. 

Bill floated forward, rubble scattering like leaves in the wind, until the cell door cracked open under his palm. Dipper followed, curiosity getting the better of him as Bill pulled the cell door right off its hinges.

Through the dust and dark, two tiny shapes were huddled together on the floor. A boy and a girl, no older than seven, clutching each other so tightly their knuckles were white. Their robes were torn, faces smeared with ash, wide eyes glimmering with fear, hands bound together by rope. Clearly siblings, the resemblance was undeniable. 

Bill's eye glowed, voice dripping amusement. "WELL, WELL, WELL. WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE? A BONUS ROUND? TWO SHRIMPY LITTLE SACRIFICES. DON'T TELL ME THE CULTISTS WERE STOCKPILING SNACKS."

The children whimpered harder, the girl burying her face into her brother's shoulder. The boy tried to shield her with his small arms, trembling.

Dipper froze. His chest tightened in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. Sympathy. 

Bill raised a hand, golden fire dancing at his fingertip. "LET'S WRAP THIS UP. POINTLESS EXTRAS DON'T DESERVE SCREEN TIME."

"Bill, don't." The words left Dipper's mouth before he'd even decided to speak.

Bill's flame flickered, though his eye was still widened in surprise. "...DON'T?"

"They're just kids. They don't belong in this. They're not... part of the game," Dipper said, his voice quiet but steady. He crouched, gently coaxing the twins out from the rubble. They recoiled at first, but when his hand reached out gently, they inched closer. The boy's lip trembled as he whispered, "P-please don't hurt us..."

Dipper's throat felt dry. He shook his head, his voice soft. "I won't. You're safe. I promise."

The bond between him and Bill pulsed with confusion, curiosity, and sympathy. Bill drifted lower, his flame diminishing, watching Dipper comfort the children as if they were something precious. Though he could feel what his other half felt, he couldn't comprehend what the emotion was. Why was Pinetree going all soft for two little midgets? 

"YOU'RE REALLY GONNA WASTE TIME ON THESE USELESS RUNTS?" Bill asked, folding his arms when Dipper nodded. "UGH. REALLY? TWO SCREAMING BURDENS? I SAY WE TURN THEM INTO CONFETTI AND MOVE ON." When Dipper just stared at him with a frown, Bill sighed theatrically. 

Bill rolled his eye, lowering his voice. "Fine, Pintree. Have it your way. Seems pointless but if that's what you want..."

Dipper smiled as he pulled the twins gently into the open. He knew Bill would eventually agree if he stood his ground. He always did. 

"We'll drop 'em back to their owners soon. Call it a little surprise delivery." Bill just floated lazily, hands behind his back, as if the whole thing were no more trouble than swatting a fly.

Something warm pressed against Dipper's chest as his smile softened further. The children clung to him, tiny fists knotting in his jacket. He gently wipe their tears, his voice hushed, "It's okay. You're going to be fine now so stop all those ugly faces, hm?"

The siblings slept soundly in Dipper's room, curled up together on a soft bed Bill had conjured with a click of his fingers. Their breathing was soft. Dipper sat nearby, arms resting loosely on his knees, just watching. 

Bill floated into the doorway, his glow filling the room. "Look at you, Mr. Softie. Can't believe my little Pinetree has gone domestic."

Dipper smiled faintly, shaking his head. "Don't get used to it. They're not mine. They should go home when they're ready."

"HEH. Fine by me," Bill replied with a shrug, eye flicking over the children. "Let their parents freak out for another day or two. CONSIDER IT A FREEBIE!"

His tone was so casual, so effortlessly indulgent, that Dipper's chest eased. Bill didn't get it, not really, but he didn't need to. He cared because Dipper cared. That was enough.

Leaning back against the wall, Dipper let out a long breath. With the twins safe and Bill humming some off-key tune under his breath, the Fearamid felt like home. No... so much better than home.