Chapter Text
One year later
“I don’t know how I didn’t realize this before, but there can only be one explanation.” Bill stated, his hair tangled and disheveled, his eye bloodshot, and his shirt stained with mystery food.
He sorted through the photographs and papers before pointing at a page with the word “Vampire” written at the top. Beneath it was a poorly-drawn picture of a vampire. It wore a black hoodie, standing hunched over with its exposed fangs dripping blood. Or jam, depending on who you asked.
“Seriously, Bill? Are you trying to say that our friends just disappeared off the face of the earth because vampires got to them?” an annoyed Carla asked.
“Your friends, not mine,” muttered Crampelter, earning him a jab in the ribs.
“Look, this is really the only thing I found that could explain why no one can find them. I mean, they found Stan’s jacket and Sixers glasses, but they can’t find a body?” Bill gripped his hair, his eye drooping with exhaustion. “I’m sorry, but I refuse to believe they’re dead. And with the weirdness in Gravity Falls I could at least assume they're in some type of frozen state that just requires them to, I don’t know, be thawed out or something!”
Carla shook her head, exasperated. “Did you see what Ford was wearing? He didn’t even grab a jacket. And in that type of weather, no one could have survived for long. Not to mention that without his glasses he’s as blind as a bat!”
“Techinically bats aren’t blind and have good eyesight,” Dipper murmured sassily as he glared at Carla, who just rolled her eyes in response.
“Just leave it. They probably just, I dunno, ran off. Or maybe a bear got to them.” Crampelter chimed in as he leaned back in his chair, uninterested.
“That’s the thing,” Bill ignored his tone, pulling out pictures from the police file. “Just look at the snow. If it was a wild animal then there would have been animal prints in the snow, but there was nothing that indicated that near their belongings, and-” he shuffled through the pictures, placing one in the center of the table, question marks drawn on the side in bright red marker. “There were only human footprints. But then they just suddenly stopped at the edge of the woods.”
“Almost like som’thin’ just grabbed em’ outta plain air,” Fiddleford pointed out, taking a hold of one of the pictures.
“Exactly! You get it, Specs!”
Dipper and Mabel glanced at Shermie, who watched silently as they discussed their theories. They both couldn’t help but feel like this was some sort of mockery towards their family in a way. Afterall, it had been their cousins who disappeared, it had been them who had to comfort Shermie during a funeral with two empty caskets. That night had led their eldest cousin to spiral, having returned from the store to find two less people than when they had left. Two hours was all it took for their lives to change forever, for loss to consume their family over what the rest had considered a harmless prank. The wail of the police sirens still haunted Mabel, still lingered in the back of her head anytime she looked into the dark void that were now Shermie’s eyes—once so full of love and life, now empty. Mabel reached out her hand, offering it to Shermie who silently held and squeezed it, never looking away from the others.
“So let’s say we believe you,” Dipper started, clearly fed up with whatever Bill was saying, “What then? Are we just supposed to believe you and head out there and risk our lives to fix your mistake which could’ve been completely avoidable had you not been a dick?!”
“I-” Bill frowned, his gaze distant. “I don’t know.”
“It’s been a year.” Emma spoke softly, sadness coating her words. “They might not be alive.”
Bill slammed the table, hands shaking as he clenched his fists. “No! They’re alive, I know it!”
Crampelter rolled his eyes. “Why do you even care? I mean, you were the one who suggested the prank in the first place. Dipshit over there is kinda right,” he looked at Bill, smirking cruelly, “It’s your fault this happened.”
Shermie's eyes slowly moved, looking over at Bill, then Crampelter.
“You,” Bill spoke through gritted teeth as he pointed at Crampelter, face red with rage, “Had as much to do with this as I did, so don’t try to act innocent you fat stupid pig .”
The teen quickly stood up, chair creaking against the wood. “Who the hell are you calling a fat pig you one eyed fr-”
“ENOUGH!”
Everyone turned to Shermie in shock, his voice booming throughout the room, silencing everyone else. It had been the first time he had spoken since his arrival. The oldest Pines’ member had remained quiet even when he was spoken to, his vacant gaze made it clear he just wasn't present, except as a grieving brother. Bill’s request to have a reunion to grieve over his brothers had been a motivator, but not the reason he came. Mabel had been the only one aware of this fact; one look and she had hugged him, whispering praises of how strong he was. Others had tried to speak with him, including Carla who tried to make small talk with him until eventually giving up at his lack of response. Even Crampelter, a kid who was as dense as a rock, understood to back off and not bother the man.
The tension was thick in the room. Everyone stared at Shermie, waiting for his next move. They flinched as he stood and walked away into one of the rooms, lingering at the door for a second. “I’m going to bed.” He announced before slamming the door, locking it with a soft click.
“That went well.” Carla joked half-heartedly, her own heart racing as she stood up for a glass of water. . .
Bill looked over at the pictures once more, scanning over every last detail. But he was sure there was nothing he was missing. After all, he had stared at and studied every last picture, every last note and letter, for hours upon hours. Perhaps it was a tad bit weird that he was doing this, that he spent a year searching and researching anything that could help learn about the twins’ whereabouts, moreso considering he’s the one who caused the domino effect that led to their tragedy. Only he knew why he was doing it. Guilt, his oldest friend and companion, the one who worsened his insomnia and fueled his nightmares on the occasional night where his body forcefully shut down. Sleep deprivation was no joke, a fact he had learned the hard way.
Although that was nothing new for him. Bill did not live a good life despite the fact that he’d only been alive for 19 years. A rare deformity mixed with the fact that he had no living parents, and the shit foster system causing him to be on his own by the age of 15? It was a perfect recipe for trauma, and an even better one for the way he turned out to be. Hunt or be hunted; either he became stronger and wittier than everyone else and protected himself, or he would be consumed by the evergrowing fire that turned out to be his life.
Then he showed up, Stanford Filbrick Pines, with his stupidly perfect dark curls and golden brown eyes, his shy smile and incredible mind, and of course, those freakish hands. He was like Bill in that way; a freak of nature born from their mother’s womb and their father’s seed. A rarity of genetics that created something that instilled fear or discomfort in others, despite it only being nothing more than an abnormality—a birth defect. Then again, that was one of humanity's biggest flaws—the fear of the unknown. The two kindred spirits had accepted being the monster in everyone else’s stories, and found comfort in each other in a way that only they could understand.
And while Bill had been born with one eye, he wasn’t blind. He didn’t just see Ford, but he saw his counterpart, Stanley Caryn Pines. Despite almost being identical twins, Stan had been born normal, with five fingers on each hand. People didn’t look at Stan the same way they looked at Ford and Bill. Stan was free from the chains of ridicule and fear. And yet he was always around, always choosing to be the protector of his brother and face that same judgement, despite having no obligation to put up with any of it, a privilege that Bill was envious of. To have the choice of how people will see you, to at any given moment just go on about your life without stares and snide comments, without parents who hide their kids behind their back when they see you coming, to be able to socialize without it being linked to pity and without making the other person uncomfortable.
Bill envied Stanley’s freedom, but he also admired and thanked him eternally for keeping Ford safe—and by extension, keeping Bill safe—during the times they hung out together. He thanked him for being one of the few people who could stand to look at him without being repulsed, for being his friend despite their rocky start, going so far as to comfort him during the anniversary of his parents’ deaths. It was no wonder that their connection would become their downfall. It happened with his own parents, after all. Bill’s love was a conflagration, destroying everything he loved too much, everything he ever cared for. That’s why he had chosen to be alone, why he had to be okay with being alone. Not only to protect his heart, but to protect those he cherished. Then those twins came, ruining all of Bill’s hard work, wiggling into his life like maggots to rotting flesh, sinking their teeth into his heart—especially Stanford.
Over the last year his attachment grew into something less platonic and more romantic. He harbored that feeling deep inside him, its roots gripping tightly inside his chest. It terrified him, fearing what that meant for them, for him. The thought of having been born an even bigger outcast then he had originally believed sent him spiraling downward. For weeks he chose to keep his distance, his heart throbbing painfully every time he saw the hurt in Ford’s eyes or the way he shrunk whenever Bill pushed him away. He almost gave in, should’ve given in. Then the other two came. They were normal; the basic pretty girl with a flirty attitude, and the family friend’s son who happened to be a jock. He saw them as his ticket to normalcy, to protect himself—and by extension, Stan and Ford. It was supposed to be a small prank, a way to prove his worth to the others and finally put his feelings to an end. He was so caught up in his plan, he didn’t realize the smoke of the fire was suffocating him, blinding him from what was in front of him.
He never meant for this to happen, not to his Fordsy. Not to Stanley.
He sighed mournfully. “I don’t care whether or not you believe me, and I don’t care if you think I’m a bad person. I already know I am,” he stood up straight, feeling determination running through his veins. “But I’m going to try to make it right, for Stanford, for Stanley.”
“What are you going to do?” Dipper questioned suspiciously.
“I’m going to look for them.” He pulled out a map filled with crossed out areas and a big red circle near the bridge. “Earlier this summer, I found this hatch that was covered in moss. It was welded shut so I couldn’t open it. I’ve lived here almost my whole life, hatches in the middle of the forest shouldn’t be something I should just now be discovering. I started digging into it when I realized that this whole thing is a lot bigger than I thought, spreading beneath a large portion of the forest outside of town.” Bill’s finger began to trace a path till it reached the area where Stan and Ford had gone missing, “I found a latch near this area—the last place they found their footprints—but it's welded shut too. Recently, from what I can tell. If my theory is correct, which it will be, then I have suspicions that they could have entered the underground facility, or tunnel, or whatever it is. And someone, or something, is trying to hide the fact that it exists.”
“But if they are both welded shut then how are we going to get in?”
“Good question, Pine Tree.” Bill grabbed a marker and drew another circle, this one a bit farther away from the initial point. “I managed to find another door nearby; well, actually a lot of hatches. But they're either broken, welded, or too heavy to lift up by myself, but this one seemed perfectly fine. Went inside it, too. But I wasn’t wearing my contact lens and had no light source. I couldn’t see anything, so I left before I could find anything useful.”
Fiddlford hummed, his eyebrows furrowed. “Does this mean yer plan is t’go inside n’ find Stanley n’ Ford?” his voice wavered with something recognizable. Bill squinted as he studied the way Fiddleford held a picture of the twins.
Glances were thrown around the room, each one with different levels of uncertainty. Bill shook his head as he refocused. “You don’t have to come. I didn’t invite you to force you to come with me. I just wanted to do the right thing for once.” He reached into his pockets, digging out a small set of keys, “All my life has been nothing but destruction and chaos. I want to change that, but I also know that what I'm doing is dangerous. I wanted to share my theories and plan in case something happens to me.”
Bill looked over at the last remaining Pine twins. He smiled half-heartedly, extending his arm as he gently deposited the keys into Mabel’s hands. She gasped softly, her eyes widening at the realization.
“I’ve already done all the legality stuff, left a will stating that all my assets would be left to the Pines family.”
“Bill, this—are you sure?” Dipper frowned as he inspected the keys in disbelief.
“I know materialistic objects won’t undo what I did, but it was the only thing I can think of.” He gathered the map, folding it up and placing it in his back pocket, “I’m going to go find them, with or without you, and no one can stop me.” Bill finally declared.
Silence followed. Carmpelter looked at Bill, slightly impressed. Carla looked horrified.
“I’m going, too,” Dipper stood from his chair, followed by Mabel who nodded in agreement.
Fidds coughed, gently setting down the picture, “If y’all are goin’ I guess I ain’t got no other choice but to join y’all fellers, ‘specially if y’all youngins ‘er goin’!”
Rubbing her fingers between her eyebrows, Emma sighed. “Guess I'm going too. Can’t let the kids have all the fun.” she winked at the twins, a teasing smirk on her face.
“Hey, we’re 16! Not kids!” exclaimed Mabel, pouting as she stared at Emma who chuckled in return.
Everyone turned to look at the remaining two. Crampelter just rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “I ain’t going if that’s what you’re waiting for. I ain’t owe nothing to no one.”
“Golly, why are you even here then?! A rock would be more useful than you!” Emma snapped.
“Hey! Watch your mouth, woman!” Crampleter shot back.
“Unfortunately,” Dipper intervened, “His parents are friends with uncle Filbrick. They ask him every vacation to take him on family trips so he can do more than getting intoxicated alone in some alleyway like the pathetic loser he is.”
“Whatever, man! At least-”
Carla placed a hand on Crampelter’s chest as he tried to stand up, “I’m sorry, I swear he can be nice, it’s just-”
“His dickbrain won’t let him?” Dipper smirked.
“I’ll stay here with him and Shermie and make sure this one here learns to shut his mouth.” Carla stated, smacking Crampleter on the back of his head. “It’s the least I can do.” she added, smiling softly at Bill.
“You’re going to want a miracle for that, then.” Cracking his fingers, Dipper turned to Bill. “So, when do we head out?”
Bill smiled, puffing his chest. He walked over to the closet, pulling out backpacks, each decorated with the symbols Bill had assigned each member of the group long ago. A pine tree for Dipper, a shooting star for Mabel, spectacles for Fidds, and a Venus flytrap for Emmamay. Inside each bag were a couple of snacks, water, extra clothing, flashlights with extra batteries, and whatever weapons Bill had lying around. Mabel squealed as she took out her grappling hook. The clothing seemed to be in men’s size, large to be exact, clearly meant for someone around Stan and Ford’s size. The snacks were a mix of toffee peanuts, jellybeans, and dried fruit. The twins looked at each other, frowning in sync as Bill explained the plan.
“-we leave in 10 minutes. And seriously, don’t get separated. Like I said, I don’t know for sure if it has a 50 or 100 mile radius, and the walkie talkies only go up to 20 miles, I couldn’t make it go up more.”
“Mind if I take a quick look?” Fiddleford spoke up. Bill blinked in surprise, quickly handing the walkies over to Fiddleford along with the toolkit. “Give me a few minutes, then these ‘ere babies will go up t’ 40 at least!”
Bill nodded. “Alright, while Specs does that, let's get changed.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, most of them walking towards their respective rooms, Carla and Crampelter walking to the kitchen instead. A hand placed itself on Bill’s shoulder, turning him around.
“Listen, Bill,” Mabel stated, her eyes serious, borderline terrifying. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, and while I’m all for a redemption arc, I’m not sure if you deserve one.”
“I know,” Bill mumbled sadly.
“Do you?” questioned Mabel, holding his shoulder tighter, causing him to hiss in discomfort. “This is going to be your only warning, Bill: don’t fuck with my family, ‘cause if you hurt them again, it’s going to be the last thing you ever do.”
Bill’s eye widened in surprise, “Y-yeah, I understand.”
“Good,” she released his shoulder. “I’m trusting you with this, okay?” she said, her voice suddenly a lot more chipper. “Don’t let me down.”
“Okay.”
The teen smiled, turning to her room before stopping, her voice becoming a lot more somber, “ I really was rooting for you and Ford.” She turned to face him, grief painted on her features, “He thought the world of you, thought you were the center of his universe.” Bill cast his eye downward, “Despite everything, I’m happy you’re fighting for him. I know he would’ve fought for you, too.” She turned on her heels, heading towards her room.
Bill stood frozen in place, eye stinging with emotion. He shook his head, wiping his eye.
“Just wait a little while longer, Six.” he whispered to himself. “Please.”