Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12882081.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Gravity_Falls
  Relationship:
      Bill_Cipher/Dipper_Pines
  Character:
      Bill_Cipher, Dipper_Pines, Mabel_Pines, Grunkle_Stan_|_Stanley_"Stanford"
      Pines, The_Author_|_Original_Stanford_Pines, Wendy_Corduroy
  Additional Tags:
      Minor_Wendy_Corduroy/Dipper_Pines, Dark, Human_Bill_Cipher, Triangle_Bill
      Cipher, Bill_Cipher_Being_Bill_Cipher, Pedophilia, Statutory_Rape, Bill
      Cipher_is_a_Jerk, everyone_dies, (no_really_I_mean_it), Emotional
      Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological_Abuse, Possessive_Behavior,
      Obsessive_Behavior, Yandere_Bill_Cipher, Threats_of_Violence, Creepy_Bill
      Cipher, Insanity, I_Wrote_This_Instead_of_Sleeping, read_the_tags, This
      Is_Why_We_Can't_Have_Nice_Things, okay_'everyone_dies'_is_not_entirely
      accurate, everyone_(else)_dies, Alternate_Universe
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-01 Updated: 2018-02-01 Chapters: 3/10 Words: 28112
****** Bitter ******
by Rebekas
Summary
     Dipper Pines was a curious child, as far as curious children could
     go.
     At three, he had discovered what monsters were; at five, he started
     his first journal, documenting the oddities of everyday life and
     scribbling solutions to problems on the margins of paper; at eight,
     he regularly explored caves and forests alike, walking through them
     slowly and taking notes on whatever he could find, whether it be
     inscribed on walls or written hastily in worn down and ancient
     textbooks.
     At age twelve, Dipper Pines met Bill Cipher.
     Too bad he didn’t realize that the demon’s invitation for friendship
     extended far beyond that.
Notes
     [monthly updates]
     Well, here I go. Back again with another fanfic that will most
     certainly disturb you and cause life-long trauma. Nah, I'm just
     kidding. It won't be that bad. But seriously: viewer discretion is
     advice. It get's dark. Really dark.
     This is an AU in which Dipper never found the journals, and his first
     encounter with Bill happened randomly in the woods. As in, this is
     still Mabel and his first time staying with Stan in Gravity Falls,
     except with a few minor changes.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Night fell, and Gravity Falls became, as it were, a different place entirely.
The large pine trees that surrounded the Mystery Shack quickly turned
foreboding, no longer bathed in sunlight. The creatures, woodland or other,
chirped and squeaked and hummed, the occasional sounds of hooves digging into
rich soil echoing throughout the forest. A branch broke, a twig snapped,
anything that indicated something remotely living was presumed to be an act of
malicious intent.
On night like those, Dipper Pines often found himself lying awake at night,
staring blankly at the wall and hoping the sudden waves of fear would pass.
It was strange, after all, that one such as he would experience something like
fear as nature made its presence known around him. Dipper was never one to be
fearful of the unknown; for half of his life, he had been exploring and
snooping around in places he knew all too well he was not supposed to be in (in
part, because Mabel’s adventurous influence was no longer minor enough for him
to ignore it entirely). Whether it be the forest, or the city, or the damp and
dark caves that lay in the most secluded corners of Gravity Falls, Dipper would
be on it in an instant, journal in hand and ready to write down whatever
interesting tidbits of information he could find.
So it was unusual, to say the least: why anxiety and nervousness clouded his
head and put spots in his vision, why he was imagining that the stained-red-
glass triangle in the attic was watching him whenever he went up for a brief
moment of solitude.
Shaking and shivering in bed was Dipper Pines. As if a harbinger of doom, a
single, black crow landed on the window sill, meeting Dipper’s questioning gaze
stolidly.
He clenched his hand into a fist, biting his lip. This was not him.
Dipper needed to get over his fear of what lie just beyond the treeline at
night. And who better to look to than advice than Grunkle Stan? The old man
would probably grin and say, “the only way to face your fears is to take them
head on. Luckily enough for me, I’ve always been a man of the fist, which makes
it plenty easier to deal with the things I don’t like. Just give em’ a whack to
the face and you’ll be feeling better than ever, kid!” If only he had known
Dipper was referring to the creatures that lurked in the forest, and not the
average school bullies.
“Head on,” Dipper whispered, quietly enough so that Mabel wouldn’t be roused
from her slumber. He flinched as the crow squawked and then flew away,
disappearing into the expanse of forest that was blanketed by the cool night
sky. “I have to face my fears head on.”
His gaze eventually landed on his backpack, precariously placed by the door in
case the situation ever arose where he needed it and was in a hurry.
Dipper gulped, and clawed at the sheets, basking in their warmth for one final
moment before making up his mind on where he would be headed.
And then he was pushing them away, standing up on shaky legs before he had the
chance to regret his decision.
He carefully tiptoed away from his bed, making a conscious effort not to step
on the floorboards that he knew would creak. No matter how determined Dipper
was to solve this problem of his, the last thing he’d want was to drag his
sister into it unnecessarily. He knew Mabel would want to tag along with him,
always worried about her brother getting lost in the woods and dying from
starvation or cold. Ironically enough, she had always been more concerned about
Dipper’s own health than him when it came to his expeditions. It was a shame
that he couldn’t ask for her assistance in this. The comforting presence of his
sister would ease any and all tension when he took his first steps into the
darkness that awaited in the forest.
But no. This was a task meant for Dipper and Dipper alone. If he couldn’t
handle a simple walk in the woods, then how could he handle real-life monster
hunting?
With an air of finality, he gripped his bag tight in his hand, shoved his
journal in, and left the room without sparing a second glance at Mabel’s
peacefully sleeping form.
In his haste, and also in a desperate bid to avoid being caught by Grunkle
Stan, Dipper bolted down the stairs, hoping that if any of the Shack’s
residents heard they would assume it was just the creaking of an old house.
Fortunately enough, upon reaching the bottom and holding his breath for far
longer than needed, there was not even a bump in the night to signify that
someone had noticed his escape attempt.
Dipper smiled sheepishly, and promised to himself that he would be on his best
behaviour for the next couple of weeks to make up for this incident, regardless
of whether or not anyone actually knew he had done something wrong.
Newfound confidence in his bones, Dipper strode along the wooden floor of the
Mystery Shack, heartbeat thudding loud and clear in his ears.
It seemed (though he was partially inclined to blame it on the eeriness of
night) like every single sound he made, no matter how small, would be heard.
Realistically, he knew that it was untrue, but the moonlight that poured
through the window lit up his nerves, making him jitter and jump each time he
took a step that he deemed to be too loud.
And then, finally, his pale hand gripped the door knob. Dipper didn’t want to
look back; he knew that if he did… if he did, he would want to run back
upstairs to his room, and sleep comfortably next to Mabel. Their shared space
was a safe haven.
But doing that would never change anything. He could never fix his problems by
hiding from them. The only way any progress could be made was by doing
something. Because if he did nothing, then he wouldn’t even be able to say he
tried.
Dipper glanced back, biting his lip slightly. “I have to face my fears head
on,” he whispered once more, before twisting the golden knob, which would lead
him to the outside world.
Cool air; cold, chilly air. The frost nipped at his nose, causing a red blush
to spread across his face. His fingers felt almost numb. Hesitation gripped him
and latched on as soon as a powerful wind almost knocked him off of his feet.
No, he told himself, I refuse to give up now.
Dipper Pines would not be stopped by a temperature drop of a few degrees; he
came prepared, after all.
Inside of his bag, hidden under several worn journals, was a navy blue pea coat
that he had shoved in for the cold fall season. Dipper made sure to be ready,
no matter what the circumstance, and like hell he would yield because of a few
minutes of bitter cold. His hand reached down into the bag again, grasping
around momentarily before clutching its prize.
A scarf. Simple and plain. Dipper quickly wrapped it around his own neck,
smiling slightly when it helped to alleviate the bite of cold. His beloved hat,
of course. And then, after another brief moment of fishing, a flashlight; he
clicked it on, watching as it bathed the surrounding areas in an obnoxious
yellow light.
Now, it was time to do what he had intended in going out there.
Dipper’s feet thudded against the ground, leaves crunching whenever his soles
made contact. He looked around, but despite his earlier confidence, paranoia
crept its way into his heart.
His eyes flitted around nervously, thoroughly inspecting every branch or shadow
that looked out of place. On one side, it seemed like there was a dark figure,
skirting in the corners of his peripheral vision. On another side, the
slightest rustling of a bush startled him to the point where he jumped up from
surprise. If possible, the iron grip he had on his flashlight increased even
more.
Dipper gulped, and then shook his head. His mind playing tricks on him. Nothing
more, nothing less. There was no evil entity stalking him, waiting for him to
slip up so it could devour its prey. In Gravity Falls, everything was either
weird or friendly. Normally both. Any lingering sense of dread could have only
been a product of his own imagination.
Because Gravity Falls was a happy place, and in happy places, there was no such
thing as evil.
So he kept walking.
If he had the ability, he would have leaped at the opportunity to document his
findings in his notebooks. Unfortunately, with one of his hands preoccupied,
that eliminated any possibility of scribbling down memos. But there were just
so many things in the forest; so many new, undiscovered things.
Odd looking plants, out-of-place lights, trees that oak morphed into faces when
he past. Unsettling yes (not even Dipper could deny that), but interesting. The
strangeness of the town was both magnificent and horrifying at the same time,
yet one would never find themselves wanting to look away. A freak show.
However, there was one way he could manage to log his adventure (though,
admittedly, he did feel ashamed for getting a bit off track. The whole purpose
of this exposition of his was to face his fear of the unknown, not to hastily
scratch down notes like a desperate high school student). His eyes landed on a
relatively harmless-looking tree. Maybe he could sit for a while.
Casually, Dipper dropped his bag next to the tree and sat down, leaning his
back against its bark. It did slightly scratch up his coat, but so did the
dozens of low hanging branches that he had to push out of the way in order to
get there.
Soon thereafter, he grabbed his journal, a pen, and found peace within the
rhythmic scratching of the utensil. The fearful Dipper Pines was gone now; when
he became enthralled in his writings there was no stopping him.
There was something so magnificent, so glorious, in the feeling of documenting
his work. Dipper was not only immortalizing himself, but also the various
creatures he had found in the forest. He was giving them life on the pages,
doodling and sketching out what they had looked like. At the thought, he
smiled. It did not matter whether the person that had stumbled upon the journal
knew it was him; regardless, they would know what he did. And that alone could
make Dipper content with the loneliness of the task.
However, he very quickly found himself distracted by the sound of rustling from
the bushes. It had been easy enough to ignore earlier, but now it felt like too
much of an oddity to brush of as the wind. He peered up cautiously from his
notes, pen clutched tightly in hand, holding up a flashlight with the other.
The beam of the light ran over the trees, and then into the bushes, only to see
nothing. Dipper narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Foliage didn’t move by itself.
Hesitantly, he stood up, wary about moving around in the forest, moreso now
because of his amped up paranoia. “Face my fears,” he muttered under his
breath, tucking his journal underneath his arm. This was a terrible idea.
Dipper would have aborted the mission a while ago if he hadn’t realized this
importance of making observations late at night. He knew himself firsthand that
things tended to be more interesting when the moon made its way into the sky,
but unfortunately he was never granted the opportunity to get it all down on
paper. Too distracted by running, you see.
But as of the moment running seemed like the most sane and safe way to get out
of this mess. What harm could come from a good old jog in the woods at night?
A howl resounded from behind him, and then another from his front.
Well, there was definitely that, for one.
It seemed as though the gods were being particularly cruel to Dipper that
night, and he wasn’t even given a choice in whether or not to flee before
whatever monstrosity had been cast upon him was nipping at his heels.
Dipper darted through the forest, backpack now long forgotten back at the oak
tree he had used as a resting spot. In one hand, he was carrying a flashlight,
trying his best to make it illuminate his pathway; in the other hand was his
journal, feeling heavier than usual and seeming to exhaust him more with every
hurried step away from his pursuers.
His pursuers which seemed to have teeth, and claws, and glowing yellow eyes.
Dipper probably would have been amazed were he not running for his life.
And so the chase continued; Dipper ran, the creatures followed. He tripped over
a protruding root, and they gained on him. Soon enough, fatigue creeped into
his veins and caused desperate gasps of breath to leave his lips. A sense of
dread filled him to his very core. He wanted to stop, but that met his
inevitable death. There was not a doubt in his mind that he would be killed and
devoured by the things chasing after him. Which left three options: keep
running and hope for the best, engage in combat, or hide and hope that they
didn’t find him.
One wasn’t turning out that well for him, seeing as he was near
hyperventilating from the physical stress of overexertion. Two was completely
out of the question, being that the only object he was capable of using and
that could remotely be considered a weapon was now lying, stranded, on the
forest floor.
So three it was.
Hiding wasn’t ideal, per say, but Dipper was running out of options and the
constant stream of howls and growls behind him didn’t boost his moral one bit.
All what he had to do was find a little crawl space, where the creatures
couldn’t reach him, and would hopefully grow bored and lose interest as time
went on. The only problem was finding something like that itself.
Unfortunately, there didn’t appear to be any areas that he could fit in that
the monsters treading close behind him couldn’t. It was all either caves, or
small rock ledges that served as small canopies over the ground.
And that’s when he saw it—in the distance. There was a hole in the rock, deep
enough so that his pursuers claws couldn’t reach him, and narrow enough so that
they couldn’t follow him in. It made him want to sigh in relief, but he knew
the battle was not yet over. This was merely the final stretch.
Dipper sped up significantly in pace, and gave his best effort at avoiding the
beasts that lingered behind him. Before he knew it, he had reached his
destination, and with a leap towards the hole, he had roughly slid in. There
was a sharp pain in his arm and leg, and Dipper barely had time to recognize
that he had been cut before he was falling into empty space.
He let out a strangled cry of surprise, but was cut off mid screech by his back
meeting the hard stone floor. That was probably a concussion, added onto the
other injuries. Deliriously, he reached behind him to press a gentle touch
against his scalp. When he withdrew, there was blood, running down his fingers
and dropping onto the ground with little splatting sounds. Dipper groaned in
both discomfort and realization. A cave, he had fallen into a cave.
Then, his eyes shot open, and he desperately looked around on the ground, eyes
straining to pick up anything against the black of the room. The flashlight
shone dimly against one of the walls, by some miracle managing to survive the
fall, and Dipper had half the mind to grab it and flash it around the room in a
bid to locate his journal.
There it was, lying on the ground, having been unscathed by the fall; with a
shaky hand, he picked it up, and shone the light on the cave walls instead.
What he saw was in equal measures horrifying and mystifying.
Strange symbols decorated every bare inch of surface available on the stone of
the wall. Piecing it all together, it seemed to be telling a story. Triangle
imagery, people bowing in what appeared to reverence, something that looked
like magic. A god, perhaps? That was just about the only logical conclusion
that Dipper could draw from the situation. An ancient group of people came
together and expressed their admiration for a primordial deity through art and
drawings on the walls. Clever, really. They were immortalizing what they wanted
to hold dear; just like Dipper.
But the drawings weren’t what was intriguing him the most. It was the symbols
that had been precariously carved into the walls, on the edges of the other
drawings. It was almost as if these were written to explain or give context to
what was being expressed in the pictures. Like someone was telling a tale, but
not through the familiar book binds and paper. This was ancient.
Dipper ran his fingers over the carvings, looking at them with wonder and
curiosity. He knew he should have been paying attention to the fact that he was
bleeding out from several places, but what was in front of him was far too
marvelous to simply ignore.
Almost instinctively, he reached for his pen, and—gone. One of the many items
that had been left on the forest floor in his haste to escape.
Frowning, he looked backed up at the symbols. They were so tightly packed on
the wall that it almost appeared like they were one extended jagged line. It
was confusing, and very hard to process, but somehow it felt like he had seen
them before.
Lying the journal on the ground, and pointing the beam of his flashlight at the
pages, Dipper began to flip through the countless notes and drawings that
littered the inside. For a while, creatures, monsters, and particularly violent
fauna were all what he could see. Though he did not regret documenting
everything he had found, at the moment he could not be more agitated at his
tendency to fill all of the pages with pointless dribble.
Then, his eyes caught something; there, in the corner of his article about
gnomes, was a cipher key. Dipper didn’t know why it was in that spot, or what
relation it had with gnomes, but he distantly recalled finding a large book in
the town library and writing down whatever codes he could find. Apparently, he
figured he would have remembered it best if he placed it there.
And so he glanced back up at the hieroglyphs on the wall. A few words were
easily recognizable, not terribly hard to translate. He saw ‘God’ a lot in
particular, and his earlier suspicions were confirmed: this was some sort of
cult or religious following. What they had been worshiping was anyone’s guess.
Dipper bit his lip, realizing that he had no way to document this. His pen had
disappeared, lost in the woods; his phone had been left at home. Worst of all,
if he ever managed to get out of the cave, he might not be able to find his way
back, meaning that all of this information could be lost. Lost. That’s right,
Dipper Pines was lost, and under serious threat. Whatever sorts of beasts that
had chased after him were still there, growling from the entrance to the cave.
They either couldn’t fit, or were too scared to enter the cave. Dipper found
some amount of solace in thinking that it was because they couldn’t fit. The
idea of those things being afraid was unpleasant, to say the least.
But it was easy enough to push that thought out of his mind, and pretend like
they weren’t there. What was harder, on the other hand, was thinking about how
such a magnificent thing as this could be forgotten, never documented by
anyone. Dipper wanted to be the person who recognized the work of these ancient
individuals. Right now it didn’t look like he would be doing any of that
without a writing utensil.
He cast another fond look at the hieroglyphs, and quickly translated them in
his head. ‘Summoning’ and ‘God’ were the only things he processed though.
Underneath that particular sentence, was what appeared to be a chant in latin,
with repetitive symbols and letters.
So there were people that were summoning a god? From the looks of it, their God
seemed to be a triangular figure, standing out from the rest because of the
bright yellow chalk that made up its body. As an interesting side note, the god
appeared to be a pyramid of some sorts, not unlike a temple.
The yips and howls from outside of the cave grew louder. Dipper’s mind ran full
speed, trying to figure out what to do. To summon the god, and hope that they
give him the knowledge to find his way back there, or to wait out the night and
try to find his way home when the morning comes (and also make an attempt at
avoiding Grunkle Stan’s wrath), given that he could actually find a way out of
the cave.
Similar to the events that had transpired earlier, Dipper was not given a
choice. A loud and unsettling howl came from above him, and he whipped his head
around to see a familiar set of claws scrabbling at the stone of the cave
entrance, trying to push their owner’s body through.
Okay, so now it was summon the God and hope that they save him from certain
death, or wait for a brutal and unpleasant death. The decision had already been
made in his eyes.
With a speed he didn’t think himself capable of, Dipper scanned the symbols on
the wall and translated them hurriedly. It was hard to keep track of everything
being that he couldn’t write his thoughts down, but sheer nervous energy
allowed him to compile a sentence that actually sounded somewhat legitimate.
But it was in latin. And sadly enough, Dipper didn’t speak latin.
He turned around yet again when the creature announced its success from behind
him, having gotten its front half through the small entrance. It snapped its
maw in anticipation, growling angrily. Dipper swallowed his fear and tried to
ignore the shaking of his own hands.
Now or never.
“Triangulum, entangulum. Veneforis dominus ventium. Veneforis videntis omnium!”
Dipper shouted into the empty room, and for a moment everything went silent;
even the beast trying to claw its way in seemed to be in shock. Dipper gulped
nervously and wondered if the spell had worked.
Then, he was being jerked forward, a pulling sensation in his stomach causing
him to clutch it in anticipated pain. Before he could even process what was
going on, words were being forced out of his mouth, without him intending to
say anything. “Egassem sdrawkcab. Egassem sdrawkcab. Egassem sdrawkcab! Egassem
sdrawkcab! Egassem sdrawkcab!”
A light grew in front of his eyes, so bright that it was almost unbearable.
Distinctly, he heard the sound of an animal whining in fear, before it stopped
completely. Gathering his bearings, Dipper yelped in surprise, before recoiling
in shock, drawing away until his back was up against the wall. “What the—”
“My oh my, Gravity Falls, it is good to be back!” the voice of the apparent god
boomed from a few feet away.
Dipper cringed, bringing his hands up to his ears because of the loud volume.
The god like out a small “hm” sound, as though understanding his qualms, and
then the light died down completely, fading to reveal a now completely
monochrome world.
Before him, was the ancient people’s apparent “God”, appearing as though they
were straight from a comic book. Dipper bit back a yelp of surprise, and stared
up at the god in wonder.
“Yes, yes,” they said, waving a hand dismissively. “I know I can be a little
bit surprising upon first viewing, but you should have known what you were
getting into.” A pause, almost as if the god were waiting for him to say
something. “So? State your reason for summoning me.”
“Wha—”
“Oh!” The god said, interrupting him for the second time. “Wait! Before
anything else, let me take care of this problem.”
They snapped their fingers, and a series of agonized howls rang out from behind
them, along with a glowing blue light. Dipper shielded his eyes once more
because of it, and in a desperate bid to avoid being traumatized for life,
looked away. It was left to his imagination about what had happened, but the
sounds alone were enough to make his face morph into an expression of horror.
“So?” they repeated, waiting expectantly for an answer. Their voice was
obnoxiously nasally, but undeniably male. So the god was a he.
Dipper stammered nervously, trying to come up with an answer to his question.
What was he even supposed to say to the god that he had just summoned? ‘Sorry,
I didn’t really want to summon you, but I had no choice. Can you get me back
home safely and let me come back here anytime I want?’.
“U-uh, um…” he mumbled, to his own embarrassment.
“Well?” the god asked, looking at his wrist as though checking the time on a
watch. “I don’t got all day kid. Spill it.”
“I didn’t mean to!” Dipper blurted out, not putting too much thought into the
statement, just wanting to appease the god. Shortly after, he corrected
himself: “I mean, I, er, I stumbled upon this cave with all of these
hieroglyphs, and…” Dipper mulled upon what to say next, but the god wasn’t
having any of that.
He put his short arms on his hips, his single eye narrowing in what appeared to
be annoyance. “Come on, the clock is ticking.” As if to emphasize his point,
the god tapped his wrist, once again referring to the invisible watch for
support. “Answer the question.”
The words were unnecessary; the look alone caused Dipper to choke out some more
words, rather unceremoniously.
“There were these creatures, chasing me!” Dipper pointed behind the god,
towards the now decimated monster. “And they isolated me in this cave! I had a
journal, with the right cipher key,” he gestured to it, “and I was able to
figure out what were the correct summons, and then I summoned you! I mean, um,
I would rather summon a god and hope for the best than suffer a grisly, gory
death?” the response was phrased more as a question, much to Dipper’s own
chagrin.
The triangular god placed a hand directly under his bowtie, and looked at the
wall questioningly. “I see… hmm, how interesting!” he floated over to where the
hieroglyphs and paintings were, observing them with something that almost
seemed like casual interest. “I don’t recall ever commanding you flesh sacks to
do this. I’m almost honored.”
The god turned around, facing Dipper. “Tell you what, kid! I think I’ll spare
you! As a reward for summoning me, I’ll give you some of these.” He made a
motion with his hand that looked like a wave, before a collection of teeth flew
into his hands from the pile of ash that used to be the creature.
He dropped them into Dipper’s lap, and watched in what seemed like morbid
amusement. Dipper yelped in shock, and shoved the teeth off of himself with
great haste. A bitter sense of dread welled up inside of him. What kind of god
exactly had he come across?
“The name’s Bill Cipher. Pleased to meet you.” The god extended a small black
hand, which Dipper dutifully ignored.
“I, uh, what now?” was all he could manage, without the words coming out in an
incoherent garble.
“What now? Well, kid, you owe me something.” The god said, voice somehow more
obnoxious now than before.
“I owe you something?” Dipper asked, hesitantly. He looked down at himself, and
then towards his book and flashlight, which had been left on the floor a few
feet away in his bid to escape the near-blinding light. “Sorry, um, Bill… but I
don’t have much to offer. Everything I have is at home.”
“Yep, I know. But I don’t have any use for the material objects you might have
at your house.” Bill said, staring Dipper down. Dipper looked away, abashedly,
too caught up with the fact that Bill had claimed to know that he had left most
of his things at home to really pay attention to the rest of his sentence.
“Then what do you…?” he asked, trailing off, unsure what he could possibly say.
“There,” the god pointed a finger at him. “What I want.”
Dipper looked behind him, at the wall, and then down towards his own body.
“Sorry, but I don’t quite understand.” He said, anxiously.
“Sorry, had I not phrased it well enough?” Bill asked. “You.” The voice was
unexpectedly loud and low pitched, causing Dipper to flinch back slightly.
“Me?” he asked, gaze flitting around the room uneasily. “Still, that’s kind of,
um, unclear.”
“A Pines’.” Bill stated, simply. “I want a member of the Pines’ family. It
would be a nice payment, considering all of the agitation your line has put me
through.”
“My line?” Dipper questioned, suddenly feeling more confused than scared.
The god rolled his singular eye. “You’ll find out, in due time.” Bill extended
a hand once more. “So, do we have a deal?”
“A deal? I mean, what? What do you mean by… any of this? I don’t even…”
“Ugh,” Bill sighed, clearly displeased. “Do we really have to go into the
specifics?”
“Uh…” Dipper started, unsure what response the god was expecting. “Yes?”
really, what else was there to say?; Bill had been dodging all of his
questions, deflecting them right back at Dipper. Who the hell answers a
question with another question? Apparently a floating godly triangle with a top
hat and a bow tie did.
Another sigh from Bill. “Well, that’s unfortunate. And here I was hoping we
could do this without any problems!” his already grating voice turned into
something like a whine, more high pitched (if that were even possible) than
Dipper had heard before. “I just want to make a teensy weensy little deal with
you. Nothing all that big!”
Dipper continued to have a befuddled look on his face, so Bill explained
further: “I want you to visit me every once and awhile. It doesn’t have to be
everyday—though that undoubtedly would be nice—maybe just once every week. Or
perhaps more than that.” A pause, in which Bill seemed to be thinking about
something; his sole eye locked moreso on the wall than Dipper. “Ah, what do you
flesh-sacks call it? Enemies, foes… that’s right, friends! We could be friends.
Don’t friends hang out with each other?”
At this point, Bill seemed to be looking for some kind of validation from
Dipper; like he needed reassurance that he had gotten the word correct. Dipper,
unsure what else to do and perplexed beyond belief, nodded.
“But I mean, you’re…”
“Godly?” Bill suggested. “Ethereal? Primordial?” Dipper dumbly stared back at
him. “While all of those would be correct, I see no reason for them to hinder
our friendship.”
While Dipper desperately wanted to ignore it, he couldn’t help but notice how
Bill had referred to their ‘friendship’ in the present tense. As though they
were already friends. Unsettling, certainly, but not nearly as shocking as any
of the other cryptic things the god had said.
“Make no mistake,” Bill continued, “I don’t claim to be the pillar of innocence
or purity. I may be not your… ideal friend,” Dipper swore, if only for a
moment, that Bill’s voice had an edge of bitterness to it. He brushed it off as
nothing. “But I certainly can try. Give me a shot?”
“No!” Dipper said, though it came across as more of a yell. Bill looked about
ready to say something, based on the accusatory glint in his eye, so the pre-
teen added more before he could be reprimanded; “I mean… it’s nothing personal,
really. I just… you’re a god, and, y’know, it’s hard for me to really fathom
becoming friends with you.”
Dipper adjusted his posture, sitting up rather than completely leaning on the
wall behind him. Bill waited patiently, so he resumed. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m
not completely averse to the idea. Having a god for a friend sounds, er,
interesting, to say the least.”
“But…?” Bill asked, a suspicion tone creeping into his voice.
“But I just don’t get it.” Dipper said, meekly, shaking his head. “I don’t
understand why you would want me, me, of all people to be your… friend. There’s
so many other options! All of the townsfolk; Mabel, Soos, Wendy, Stan, they are
all much more sociable!”
“Yeah, duh.” Bill rolled his eye. “But I don’t want sociable. I want someone
like you; you know, the whole package; smart, a natural problem-solver,
elegant.” Dipper became impossibly more confused at the word ‘elegant’ (he
hardly thought that it applied to him), but nevertheless continued to listen as
Bill went on. “More precisely, however, would be to say that I just want you.
No one else.”
“No one else? But surely I’m not that special…” Dipper was suddenly reminded of
how a while back in their conversation Bill had offhandedly mentioned it had
something to do with his ‘line’, and the Pines Family. “Didn’t… earlier, didn’t
you mention it having something to do with my family? What does that mean?”
“Do I go into great depth about this whole thing? Can you accept that I chose
you and be flattered by it?” Bill said, snappily.
Dipper wasn’t sure whether to be offended or frightened. He settled on both.
“Not, um, not really? I’ve never been one to jump straight into things without
much thought.” He said plainly. “Hey, how do you know all of this stuff about
me anyway?”
Bill crossed his arms, as though the answer were obvious. “Omnipresence. Do you
not see the whole ‘God’ thing on the wall?” He gestured to it, and Dipper’s
gaze followed the motion to a painting of a glowing yellow triangle, with a
single, wide eye in the middle, overlooking everything. “The all-seeing eye.”
Dipper’s brows knit in puzzlement. “The Eye of Providence?” he asked, turning
his attention back to Bill. “Is that where it came from? You?”
“Yes, yes,” Bill seemed slightly more agitated now, and gave a dismissive wave
of his hand. “Of course it did. Trust me, I’m everywhere in your human history.
You just hardly notice it.”
Something Dipper would most certainly have to look into later, given that he
made it home alive.
“So.” Bill started once more, staring the pre-teen down. “Do we have a deal?”
Dipper hesitantly glanced from the wall, to Bill, and to the pile of monster
teeth that had lied long since forgotten on the ground. “Um… you mean you’ll
save me, and uh, hopefully continue to save me as long as I, er, be your
friend? Is that it?”
“Exactly, kiddo’!” Bill chirped, a shrill tone of excitement clear in his
speech. “Not only that, but I’ll show you around Gravity Falls! All the fauna
and wildlife and creatures you can imagine, available for your viewing
pleasure. As an added bonus, I’ll even give you as many pens as you want, just
so you never lose one again!”
Admittedly, it did sound like a pretty fair deal to Dipper. He gets to document
all of his findings in his journal (and not encounter a situation like this
ever again), for the mere price of showing up every once and awhile to cure a
lonely god’s boredom? How could he say no to that?
“And there’s no catch or anything, right?” Dipper asked, questioningly.
“Nope,” Bill said. There was something so unsettling, so unnerving about that
single word that it almost made Dipper want to back out. There was a sudden
chill that ran up his spine, and whether that was from the cold or Bill
himself, he didn’t know (didn’t want to know). “No catch. It’s as I’ve said
it.”
Dipper bit his lip, but nodded regardless. “Okay, I’ll… I’ll make a deal with
you.”
There was some kind of twisted glee in Bill’s eye then, flashing for a mere
moment, before it disappeared so quickly that Dipper wondered if he had even
seen it in the first place.
“Wonderful,” Bill practically purred. He extended one of his small black hands,
and offered it up for Dipper to shake. “So.” A pause, where Dipper and Bill
were staring eachother down. Dipper, not even to his own surprise, averted his
gaze first. “Do we have a deal?”
Dipper looked down at his own hand, weighing in his options. Was this really
the right choice? Befriending a god and selling his summer at Gravity Falls for
some extra knowledge?
Hardly a choice at all to Dipper.
Before long, he had raised his hand as well, only an inch away from making
contact with Bill’s own.
“Deal,” he whispered, barely audible. But somehow, someway, Bill heard it.
The god shook Dipper’s hand with enthusiasm, cyan blue flames engulfing the
spot where they met. Dipper yelped at tryed to pull away at first, in equal
parts surprised and afraid for his life at the sudden burst of color. They were
so similar to the one’s Bill had used to burn the invading monster to a crisp;
it was hard not to be extremely concerned.
“Don’t worry,” Bill said, gently. Just seconds prior Dipper would have thought
it impossible for his normally obnoxious and condescending voice to come across
as being so affectionate. He would have reacted with surprise had he not been
fretting over the fact that his hand was currently on fire.
Bill floated away, breaking contact with Dipper and sitting back contently,
watching as he flailed around miserably not realizing that the flames were
gone.
“Oh my God!” Dipper yelled, one final time, checking every inch of the skin on
his hand to make sure that nothing had gotten burnt. After the period of panic
and dread was over with, and Dipper was satisfied with the current state of his
flesh, he addressed Bill, glaring at him.
“What was that!” Dipper screeched, indignantly. “What were those!”
“Flames.“ Bill said, nonchalantly. “You’ll get used to them, eventually. It’s
my preferred way of conceptualizing things, making them appear out of thin
air.”
Dipper didn’t know whether or not Bill simply wanted to show off, but the bold
display of cyan fire hardly seemed necessary to him. He gawked; “s-still! Don’t
scare me like that!”
“Why not?” Bill asked, seeming genuinely curious. “It’s fun to mess around with
you. Are all meat-bags like this?”
“No? I mean—I don’t know!” he yelled, exasperatedly. And then, after a long and
heady sigh, “can you take me back home?”
Bill moved his arms in what would imply the human version of a shrug. “Sure
thing, kid.” He floated closer to him, before looking him up and down; “hm.
Saying ‘kid’ all the time doesn’t feel quite right. It’s impersonal. How
about…” Bill looked up at Dipper’s hat, and Dipper could practically visualize
the light bulb forming above his head.
Bill pointed to the blue and white accessory. “Pine Tree!”
“Pine… what?” Dipper looked upwards, despite the fact that he couldn’t see past
the bill (the pun was unintended, but he apologizes nonetheless) of the hat.
“The pine tree. On your hat. It seems fitting.” Bill observed it for a few more
moments. “Pine Tree, Pine Tree… I think it works quite well! Rolls right off of
the tongue.” Dipper wanted to point out that Bill didn’t have a tongue, but
refrained from saying anything stupid.
“So, uh, home?” he interjected, interrupting Bill’s ramblings about ‘Pine Tree’
and how perfect it was.
Bill looked at him, appearing to be surprised that Dipper had said something,
almost as though he were expecting him to remain silent. “You want to go home
so quickly? I’m sad, Pine Tree. I would have thought you’d have liked to spend
more time with your best friend.”
Oh, Dipper thought. So it went from ‘friend’ to ‘best friend’? When exactly did
Bill decide that was the case? Dipper wouldn’t even call them acquaintances.
“Um, yeah, sorry. I’m just… tired. It happens to humans sometimes, y’know?” one
awkward chuckle later, a firm stare directed towards the ground, and Dipper
decided that he had done enough talking for the evening.
Bill looked at him blankly. “Yeah. Of course I’ll take you home. Don’t get so
worked up about it.”
Dipper did not say anything in response, and sincerely hoped that Bill would
not force him to.
For the first time that day, however, it seemed as though Lady Luck was on his
side; Dipper blinked, and in the next instant he was standing in the middle of
the forest, looking at what could only be described as the most beautiful
meadow he had ever seen. It was dark, bathed in moonlight, yet somehow
breathtaking in the way that the grass moved with the wind and the crickets
chirped idly in the background as white noise.
“What…” Dipper began, still marveling in sight before him. “What is this
place?”
Bill floated up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder yet remaining not
directly in his line of sight. “A taste of what is to come.”
The pre-teen couldn't help the smile that grew on his face, the corners of his
lips twitching up in mirth. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered reverently. Then, as
a side note, “and not monochrome.”
“Yup.” Bill said. He removed his hand from Dipper’s shoulder, and floated
towards a particularly large daisy. For whatever reason, Dipper felt compelled
to follow him. “You see, I can control dreams. Everything about them. Colors,
shapes, sizes, things that appear, whether they be friendly or sinister. I can
make nightmares, or pleasant little fantasies.”
Bill sighed, seeming discontented. He flicked the daisy with his thumb and
index finger (what appeared to be his thumb and index finger. It was hard to
distinguish which was which being that the god only had four of them). “But I’m
afraid that’s as far as my interaction with your mortal realm goes. Can’t do
much else but plant some ideas in one of your human heads.”
Dipper jerked away from the god in surprise. “Wait, you mean you can’t actually
interact with the world? Then what was the point of this whole deal!” he
yelled, exasperatedly. “Does that mean I could be dying in that cave right
now?” Dipper backed away slowly as he continued with his tangent, growing more
concerned by the second. “Bill! If you can’t do anything in the real world,
then how did you prevent those things from killing me! Couldn’t they be mauling
my body right now?”
“Now hold on a minute Pine Tree—”
Bill made an attempt to say something before he was promptly cut off by an
outraged Dipper. “Wake me up this instant!” the pre-teen yelled, hands balling
into fists by his sides. “Get me out of this dream!”
“Pine Tree, Pine Tree listen—”
Dipper huffed, and crossed his arms, feeling more offended than anything. “I’m
not going to listen! You lied to me!”
“Woah, woah, woah, hold your horses, kid.” Bill said defensively, waving his
hands around in front of him as if to indicate a surrender. “I never lied to
you. I said I would show you around Gravity Falls. And I meant it. It’ll just
be a bit, eh, not that real.”
Dipper glared at him accusatorily and remained firm in his stance, not very
impressed with Bill’s explanation. “Hey, what’s with that look! You’ll still be
able to take notes on things when you wake up.” The god gestured to his
journal. “Besides, much better than placing yourself in any real danger. You
can just observe from the sidelines and scribble in that diary of yours.”
“Okay,” Dipper said, through gritted teeth, unbelieving of Bill’s story. “But
you still haven’t explained how you saved me from dying at the hands of those
creatures.”
“Well…” Bill seemed hesitant to tell Dipper anything regarding the monsters,
only serving to make him more suspicious. After a pregnant silence, Bill
straightened his bowtie and resumed speaking. “Ahem, let’s just say they know
who I am.”
“Know who you are?” Dipper questioned.
“They’re animals, Pine Tree. Not stupid. They choose their enemies wisely,” and
then after a moment of what appeared to be consideration, he added, “most of
the time.”
“That’s just…” Dipper still wasn’t sure where Bill was going with this but
nevertheless listened, trying to figure out how everything fit together. Some
of it made sense (to a degree), but the rest was simply to much for him to
fully comprehend; Bill’s limitations, what he could and couldn’t do, the
creatures he had encountered earlier in the forest. Dipper was about to open
his mouth to voice some sort of protest, but stopped Bill started talking
again.
“Hard to believe, I know.” He began. “Trust me, I know. But think about the
risk, and the reward. As much knowledge as you could ever possibly want, at the
small price of a few measly hours with me. An offer you can’t resist! Think of
the possibilities!”
Dipper blankly stared at Bill, not quite getting it, before the god waved his
hand, making an image appear in front of them.
It wasn’t a projection, but it certainly was close. The screen shifted and
changed, giving off the appearance of an old-timey film, something that he or
Mabel might find in the storage room of the Mystery Shack. A few seconds passed
where it was the same forest as the one near the mystery shack, leading to a
very much confused Dipper, who still had no idea what was going on.
“Bill, what is this?”
Bill said nothing, and merely pointed at the screen. Dipper ignored whatever
puzzlement he might have been feeling and shifted his focus back to it.
Then, in the next instant, there was an image of Dipper, standing in a field,
taking notes on what seemed to be a large creature. Another picture appeared.
It was him again, leaning against a tree and watching Multi-Bear and scribbling
down things in his journal in the same manner as before. A galaxy, next,
woodland animals, after that.
If the images were meant to sooth his worrying, they only served to befuddle
him more. “Bill, um, is this the future, or something?”
“Nope,” the god said, popping the ‘p’. “Just showing you what could happen if
you decide to hang out with me.”
Dipper looked at him pointedly. “I mean, I’m not totally friendless. New
information is tempting, but if I were to look to you to curb my loneliness,
well, sorry man, but I would have to be pretty desperate. There are plenty of
less…” Dipper looked Bill up and down. “Triangular people to hang out with.”
“Oh, what? Is it because I have three sides? Is that it?” said the god, placing
a hand to his chest (at least what appeared to be his chest) in mock offense.
“Well, no, I mean—” Dipper’s mind scrambled with what he could say to Bill to
avoid actually irritating him. “It’s not just because you have three sides.
Dude, you’re a god, right?”
“Yes,”
“It’s because of that, really. Because you’re a god. Not exactly the kind of
company my family would like me to hang out with.”
“Oh, shush, Pine Tree. You’ve already made the deal. It’s set in stone, now. No
taking it back.”
“Yeah,” Dipper sighed, looking back out at the meadow stretched across the
landscape in front of him. “You’re right. Can’t really reverse it if I do
something stupid.”
There was silence between them for the next few minutes, neither seeming
particularly willing to talk. Bill remained silent, barely moving from his
position beside the pre-teen. Dipper felt awkward, but also comforted at the
same time, knowing that he could now go out and research whatever he wanted to
without being restricted by his environment. He wouldn’t have to worry about
monsters or beasts chasing him around moonlit forests at night, thanks to
Bill’s watchful eye (a bit creepy, Dipper was aware, but losing an
insignificant amount of privacy wouldn’t hurt, considering what the rewards
would be). Maybe it was a good thing having a god on his side.
“Hey, uh, Bill?” Dipper spoke, breaking the peaceful quiet between them. He
shuffled uncomfortably, gripping his journal tight in his hands.
Bill turned to face him. “What is it, kid?”
“Can you wake me up now?” he bit his lip. “I kind of want to go home.”
Bill tipped his top hat, and regarded him with a cool stare. “You need only
ask.”
Dipper wanted to say more, to slip out a quick ‘thanks’, but was interrupted
when he was suddenly in a different terrain, wind and chill biting at his
cheeks.
He blinked, disoriented, and looked around. He was near the… Mystery Shack? How
did he get there? When he asked Bill to wake him up he thought he would be
woken up in the cave, not standing up, right outside the doors of his Grunkle’s
home.
One of the many things he would have to ask Bill about later, given that what
he had just been through wasn’t some sort of weird fever dream and he hadn’t
conjured the events of the past hour or so up in his head. Dipper gripped his
head in pain; that long of a sentence was too much for his brain to comprehend
at the moment.
Dipper stumbled unsteadily into the Mystery Shack, opening the door with a
light twist of the knob. He must have forgotten to lock it when he left the
house.
The floorboards creaked upon his entrance, as they normally did. Everything was
just how he had left it. However, gazing upon the darkness of the house, he
felt strangely unsettled, despite the fact that he knew there was nothing
there. At least he thought there wasn’t.
Dipper clutched the straps of his bag from where they rested on his shoulders;
he didn’t even want to think about things like that. It would only serve to
frighten him more and therefore render the entire point of him leaving the
Shack in the first place meaningless. The pre-teen furrowed his brows. Why did
he go to the forest in the middle of the night…? It seemed stupid thinking back
on it (and also thinking back on everything that had just recently happened
with Bill), but he knew there was some rationale to it.
Facing his fears—it was as Grunkle Stan had told him.
Dipper knew he should have never listened to his advice.
He peered upstairs, checking to make sure that there was no angry parental
figure or twin sister waiting at the top. Dipper sighed in relieve, and made
his ascent, climbing step by step. This time (unlike when he had initially left
the Shack) he payed special attention to each of the steps, stepping on places
that he was aware wouldn’t creak when he put his foot down on them.
Hastily jumping the last few steps, he finally made it to second floor, where
his and Mabel’s room was. Dipper quickly looked around again, before opening
the door to his room and practically leaping in.
He shut it as quickly as possible, careful not to make the door slam. Turning
around to face where Mabel would (hopefully) be asleep, he relaxed considerably
when he saw her resting comfortably, mumbling something about boy bands.
He left his bag by the door, only opening it to remove his journal. Tiptoeing
over to his bed, he slipped in under the blankets and placed it underneath his
pillow resting his head on it. Uncomfortable, yes, but this was where he felt
it would be the safest from anybody’s discoveries. Mabel was aware of it
existing, but she had no idea its contents contained more than just the average
gnome or troll; no idea that he had been wandering out all on his own and
trying to solve mysteries by himself. No, today wasn’t the first day when he
had tried his hand and exploring solo, but it most certainly was the only time
when something like… what had happened had happened.
Dipper shifted in bed, turning over onto his side and staring out the window
once more. Again, as if on cue a crow, not at all unlike the one he had seen
earlier, landed on the windowsill, merely sitting there and watching him; he
stared back, meeting its gaze with a determined look. Dipper knew that the crow
couldn’t have possibly understood what exactly it meant (or even that it had
recognized a change in expression), but nonetheless he fisted the pillow
beneath him and felt somehow triumphant in victory. Funny to think that a crow
watching him was what had been the trigger for all of this.
A small smile had come to his face, the faintest of giggles escaping his lips,
cheeks flushing from excitement; the realization of the events that had
transpired within the last hour finally dawned on him. Oh, dear. Neither
Grunkle Stan nor Mabel would be pleased if they had found out what he had done.
The feeling of doing something he wasn’t supposed to was exhilarating, in a
way. Dipper had always considered himself to be a rather proper person, always
following rules and doing what he was told (for the most part), never before
had he been a part of something so daring and bold. He very quickly became
addicted to the feeling, staring wide-eyed at the bed, heart pounding with
adrenaline. Another laugh, and Dipper promptly passed out.
Then, in the next moment he shot up, looking around wildly at a monochrome
world; it seemed as though Bill had decided to make an appearance for the
second time that night.
Dipper’s eyes flitted around the room, looking for the familiar bright yellow
color of the god. “Bill…?” he questioned, keeping his voice low to a whisper.
“Hey kid, did ya’ miss me?” a voice shouted from behind him. Dipper’s head
whipped around and he stared at Bill pointedly.
“Bill?” and then, after a glance over to Mabel was lying in bed, “can Mabel—um,
my sister—can she hear us?”
“Not at all, kiddo’.” Said Bill flippantly. “Don’t you remember?” the god
snapped, and an image of them when they had been talking earlier flashed in
front of him. Dipper flinched back in surprise, still unused to the whole
‘making things appear out of thin air’ act that Bill had put on. “We had this
talk earlier. Oh, you know, about how I can’t interact with the physical world.
Trust me, you’re sister is sound asleep in bed. If you need more confirmation,
I can show you her dreams.” The god looked about ready to snap his fingers
again, but Dipper stopped him before he could actually go through with it.
“Yeah, no dude. I’d rather not see my sister’s dreams.” Dipper cringed. Who
knew what sort of stuff was in there?
“Your loss,” Bill sighed, floating over so that he was in front of Dipper. The
pre-teen was grateful for that small amount of charity Bill had granted him,
being that his neck was starting to get sore from having to crane it around to
look at the god.
“Anyway,” Dipper thought back to what he was going to ask before Bill had
distracted him. “Why did you come back into my dreams? Is there something you
need to tell me, or are you just bored?”
Bill closed his singular eye, doing what Dipper could only assume was a
triangle’s way of shrugging. “A bit of both. I felt like talking, to be honest,
and there were also some things I needed to clarify with you.”
“Clarify with me?” Dipper asked, a brow raising. He had thought him and the god
had worked out all of the kinks of the deal earlier.
“Yeah, just to make sure there weren’t any…” a pause, “misunderstandings.”
“Oh, okay?” Dipper said, confusion evident in his tone. “Though I’m not quite
sure how I could have misunderstood anything. You made it perfectly clear what
you wanted, and then I said what I wanted, and then…” he trailed off; Bill had
probably already gotten the point.
“Of course. The deal has been made, no taking that back.” The god looked at
Dipper, as though expecting him to voice a complaint. He shook his head ‘no’.
“I just wanted to talk about, oh, the specifics.”
“Specifics of what?” Dipper brushed a hand through his air, sitting up
straighter as to make himself appear more formal. He at least wanted to look
decent when discussing a contract.
If Bill took note about the shift in position and attitude, then he didn’t say
anything, only continuing with his speech. “Specifics of what exactly ‘hanging
out with me’ entails.”
Dipper deadpanned, mind wandering to the first thing it could think of.
“No, no, no.” Bill waved a finger back and forth, as though to chastise Dipper.
“I know what you’re thinking of, and it’s not that. Not entirely.”
“Not entirely!” Dipper flushed, shuffling away from Bill’s floating form
quickly. “What does that mean?”
“Not that strange mating practice you humans call ‘intercourse’.” Bill stated,
as though it were obvious. “Just friendly hugs and the like.”
“Oh.” Dipper said, placing his hands on his face and sighing loudly. “You
should have said that upfront. I don’t even know why you would categorize hugs
with… you know what, never mind.”
Hugs were fine for Dipper. Nothing he couldn’t handle. After twelve years with
Mabel by his side, constant touching and playful tackling became the norm. It
didn’t creep him out as much as it used to when his friends would hug him. “So,
uh, anything else?” he asked, getting back into a more comfortable position.
“Hm… let me think.” Bill paused and placed a hand directly under his bow tie,
seemingly trying to imitate how a human would scratch their chin in thought.
Then, after a few more moments of thought, the god’s eye widened; “yes, there
is one more thing.”
“What is it?” Dipper prompted.
“Here’s the thing, kid.” Bill floated closer to Dipper, plopping down on his
legs, taking a seat. “This,” he gestured to his triangular body, “is a form I
reserve for my acquaintances. People I’m not too familiar with. However, you,”
the god poked Dipper’s chest, “are my friend. So I will treat you as such.”
“Which means…?”
“Let’s say, tomorrow, or the next time you decide to visit me, I’ll appear in a
different form. It might be a tad scary at first, but don’t worry; I’m sure
you’ll find it much easier to adapt to this one.”
“Okay?” Dipper said, despite having still been confused by Bill’s general
vagueness. He thought back to the why the god had even bothered to enter his
dream to tell him all of that in the first place. Rather unnecessary if you ask
Dipper. After all, it was just him announcing that he would be changing how he
looked in a dream and how him and Dipper had to exchange friendly hugs every
now and then.
“Wait…” Dipper said, eyes narrowing. “How do I even hug a triangle in the first
place?”
“And that,” Bill said, tipping his top hat to the pre-teen. “Is for you to
figure out.”
With a bang, and an extra flash for added flare, the god was gone; Dipper
hardly had time to process his departure before he promptly passed out, only
awaking in a cold sweat after a particularly disturbing nightmare.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     In which we learn that Bill has very grandiose taste, and Dipper can
     only watch in fascination as a mixture of horror and beauty unfolds
     before him.
Chapter Notes
     [monthly updates]
     Hello, and I'm back again for edition number two of Bitter! Boy, have
     I got to tell you this chapter was tough to write. It wasn't like I
     didn't want to per say, I just... lacked motivation, if that makes
     sense? I've got myself caught up in all of this planning for future
     chapters that it feels almost like I'm boring anybody who might be
     reading this, because of how underdeveloped these first few chapters
     might be. But please stick around for future chapters, my friends!;
     we only go downhill from here...
See the end of the chapter for more notes
When Dipper woke up, early in the morning, he was sweaty, uncomfortable, and
more afraid than he had been in a while.
His eyes darted around nervously, locking onto even the slightest movement of
shadow from the corner of his eye; his heart leaped and skipped, and he made an
effort to breathe more evenly, which soon proved to be futile, as his heart
beat only grew faster from there on; a single bead of sweat dripped down his
forehead, and he reached up a hand to wipe it away, cursing under his breath.
Nightmares had been an exceptionally rare occurrence for Dipper Pines.
Especially nightmares that included the gorey death of everyone he had ever
known and loved.
With a sigh, he pushed the blankets off of himself and sat up, fingers brushing
through messy brown locks.
Maybe it was because of the events that had transpired last night, but there
was something about his and Mabel’s shared room that seemed so… solemn, almost
creepy. Dipper wouldn’t necessarily call himself the bravest person, per say,
but he knew well enough that the sudden wave of fear that accompanied his dream
had been more than just a natural reaction to his bout of paranoia.
Hesitantly, Dipper threw his legs from the bed, and stood on shaky legs,
creeping carefully as to not wake Mabel up. He peered out the window, looking
at the horizon as the faintest glimmer of sun began to poke through dull grey
clouds. Dipper couldn’t quite bring himself to appreciate the beauty given that
he was currently debating whether or not he was actually losing it or something
of the like. Maybe that really was the case, being that he was awake at early
hours in the morning and dressed in the clothes that he had ran around in last
night. Dipper would have to remember to change them later.
He brought both of his arms up to the windowsill, and smiled out at the open
expanse of world, resting his head on the crook of his elbow. It was tempting
to fall asleep once more, but he didn’t want to risk being thrown back into the
nightmare. Too many unpleasant, horrifying things in one dream. That, and there
was also the fact that he had some ‘work’ to do, though Dipper had argued with
himself about where and when exactly his next meeting with Bill would be. He
didn’t have to sneak out, but it would be hard to allocate a certain amount of
time every couple of days to spend in Bill’s presence since Grunkle Stan had
demanded that he and Mabel work 24/7. Which left either early morning, late
night, or lunch breaks (which were admittedly short, but did manage to serve
their purpose).
He glanced down at the clock resting on the nightstand, checking the time. It
read “4:23”. Just about the time when the birds would start chirping.
Dipper definitely could make an attempt at seeing Bill this morning, though
Grunkle Stan was often times unpredictable in his sleeping patterns; Dipper had
no way of knowing if he would suddenly wake up and catch him in the act.
The pre-teen looked back at his bag, which had been placed haphazardly near the
door in his haste to get into bed last night. With one final thought of
hesitation, Dipper came to the conclusion: it was now or never, right?
Dipper headed straight for his bed, pushing aside the pillow where his head had
rested just a few moments ago and sighing in relief upon his discovery that his
journal was still there, exactly where he had left it last night; there was
always the faint concern everytime he went out exploring when he knew he wasn’t
to that someone would catch him. Perhaps it was guilt weighing him down, or
perhaps it was something else—something more forced—but dread always welled up
inside of him when attempting to keep the journal away from prying eyes. It was
unsettling, like a paranoia more profound than he had ever experienced.
After retrieving his journal and settling the pillow back into its original
place, Dipper strolled over to the door, only stopping to cast a side-glance at
Mabel from the corner of his eye, checking to see if she was awake. There was
only the sound of quiet breathing and the occasional mumble slipping past her
lips, and he quickly deemed that she was sound asleep, probably absorbed in a
fantasy land of her mind’s own creation.
Dipper pulled up his bag from off of the floor, casually throwing one of the
straps over his shoulder. It was harder to build up enough confidence to leave
his room this time, whereas last night (technically this morning) he had been
pushed forward by sheer willpower alone. He bit his lip, and told himself
multiple times that this would be quick; his ‘chat’, or whatever the god would
like to call it, with Bill had a maximum duration of one hour, and Dipper was
going to make sure that it stayed that way. He wouldn’t let neither Bill nor
himself ramble too much or stay in one area for too long. There was a time
limit, a place, and an activity. In effect a schedule, of sorts.
Finally, after a short while of debating, Dipper opened the door speedily and
shot out of his and Mabel’s shared bedroom, closing the door behind himself as
silently as he could manage.
Following the same pattern as last night, Dipper snuck down the stairs with
professional grace, having long since memorized which ones would creak when
stepped on them. He couldn’t help himself entirely, but Dipper figured that for
the most part it was nervousness affecting his motor skills.
With a dull thud, his right foot hit the floor, and he peeked around the corner
of the wall to make sure that the coast was clear. Nothing out of place,
everything just where he had left it, and Dipper barely had a moment of thought
before he made a beeline for the front door, scampering out and closing it in
rapid succession.
The pre-teen pressed a hand to his heart, feeling the fast thudding underneath
his fingertips and making an attempt at calming himself by practicing simple
breathing exercises. He groaned in frustration at his own shakiness, wanting
the anxious feeling to go away.
After a minute of rest, the edge in the back of his mind dissipated, and he
looked around warily, finally prepared to charge back into the forest. The sun
still had not poked out yet and the dark clouds looming far above were ominous
in the way that they cast a dark shadow on the world around him. It would have
been pitch black if not for the faintest of lights coming from the Mystery
Shack’s front porch. Dipper reached behind himself and into his backpack,
quickly grabbing a flashlight and clicking it on, illuminating the many trees
that lay in front of him. He gulped, and steeled himself.
Taking a few hesitant steps forward, Dipper began his descent into the darkness
that was the forest. He looked around at all of the trees, notice just how tall
they were; even when inclining his head upwards and pointing his flashlight at
their peaks, he could barely tell where they ended and the sky began.
Dipper shook his head, focusing back on the dirt and twigs and front of him,
being careful not to trip or stumble over any of them. The area was relatively
clear, and easy to trek through (much to Dipper’s luck), but still could get
him face-down in the dirt if he didn’t focus hard enough.
The pre-teen stumbled around blindly for a couple more minutes, unsure where he
was going, but still determined to get there. Bill had been very vague with how
exactly Dipper was supposed to find him again. Was he just supposed to walk
into the forest, or...? No matter what he was supposed to do, the pre-teen
settled on just offering a meek suggestion of the god's name: "Bill?"
In the same manner as the last time he and the god had met, Bill appeared quite
literally out of thin air, blinding light accompanying him. Dipper didn’t fall
down again but did flinch back in the slightest, bringing up a hand to shield
his eyes.
“Ow!” Dipper yelped, annoyance ringing clear in his voice. “Please, Bill, tone
it down!”
Soon enough, the light dimmed down entirely, only a faint glow around Bill’s
triangular form. As expected, the world had gone greyscale—the only exceptions
being Bill himself and all of Dipper and his assets.
Still cringing, with spots in his vision from the intensity of the light,
Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a small sigh of relief. “T-Thank
you.”
“Well you are very, very welcome Pine Tree!” Bill shouted, as unable to control
his volume as ever. “Did you miss me? I know I spoke to you last night, but I
would still greatly enjoy getting some positive feedback.”
Dipper stared at him blankly, flicking off his flashlight with the press of a
button. “Yeah, I guess I did.” He responded, letting out a quick yawn shortly
after.
“Thanks for your cooperation, kid!” Bill said, seeming particularly smug. “I
know how difficult it can be adapting to all of this, but you’ve done well!
Consider me impressed.”
“Thanks.” Dipper mumbled. “Speaking of last night, what about that different
form you said you would be using?”
The god’s eye widened, as though he had just remembered something. “Oh, right,
right…”
Another flash of bright white light, another cringe from Dipper, and everything
faded back to monochrome to reveal a person, standing there amongst the trees
and grinning casually.
“Bill?’ Dipper questioned, confusion crossing his face.
“That’s me!” they yelled, voice matching Bill’s perfectly. Huh. So apparently
body switches didn’t affect the god’s ability to maintain a constant nasally
and obnoxious voice.
“How do I look?” he asked, turning around slowly for Dipper to observe. The
pre-teen looked the god’s human-ish new form up and down, noting the absence of
all colors that weren’t black, white, or gold. Perhaps Bill had gotten so used
to the bland monochrome shades that his color sense had been impaired.
Dipper shifted his focus from clothing to the god’s facial features. It was
hard to think that the floating three-sided shape from a few minutes ago was
now so startlingly human in appearance that it would have been almost
impossible to distinguish him from a regular crowd, sans the glowing yellow
eyes and sharp teeth.
Speaking of which, Dipper had to admit he was unsettled by their being there.
If he ignored the whole deal with the outfit, then Bill could have passed as
normal. Why he chose to add a bit of flare and include golden eyes and fangs
(which reminded Dipper so much of vampires) was anyone’s guess.
“Well, it’s certainly…” a glance one more time at tanned olive skin and blonde
locks. “Something.” Then, as an afterthought: “at least you're consistent with
your color scheme.”
“Well, I’ll take that as an ‘it’s fantastic!’.” Bill stayed in the same place
but wobbled around slightly, as though unused to the feeling of having legs
that were made to walk on something. “I know it’s not perfect, of course, but I
did my best to incorporate my own, personal flare in order to make up for it.”
The god raised a shaky hand, pointing at his eyes and grinning. Then the finger
lowered to his mouth, where perfect sharp white teeth were on display.
Dipper merely offered up a smile, chuckling nervously. Those incisors would
take awhile to get used to.
“I mean, other than the obviously…” he spared a glance at the god’s teeth,
“strange aspects you decided to include, it’s fine. You could almost pass for a
human.”
Bill’s grin widened impossibly further. “Great! Exactly what I was hoping for.”
The god’s smile was infectious; Dipper found the corners of his lips twitching
up in response to his statement.
“Though I must admit, your choice in clothing is a bit off.”
Bill raised an eyebrow. “Off?”
“I mean, most people don’t go around dressed like that.” Dipper gestured to the
god’s extravagant outfit.
The aforementioned god looked down at himself. To say Bill was dressed
strangely would be an understatement, though Dipper supposed by Gravity Fall’s
standards it could be considered normal.
Black slacks and sleek dress shoes (by far the two most normal things in the
outfit), combined with a bright yellow vest, the lower half of which contained
a brick pattern, somewhat reminiscent of Bill’s triangular form. Underneath the
piece was a crisp white dress shirt—which would have looked normal if not for
the eye-bleeding yellow of the vest. And, to top it all off, tight fit gloves
that seemed very unnecessary
“You know what, never mind. It’s perfect.” Dipper finished.
He grabbed his backpack with one hand and pulled it off of his shoulders,
releasing them from the burden of carrying weight. It hit the ground with a
thud. Dipper dropped his flashlight and his journal, letting both of the
objects rest by his backpack.
“So…” Dipper began hesitantly. “Why do you need a different body in the first
place? I know you said it was because I was your friend, but still. I’m
perfectly fine with you being all…” he struggled to find the right way to
phrase it. “Triangular, and stuff.”
Bill shrugged, his golden eyes shutting for a brief moment. “I thought it would
be easier showing you around Gravity Falls while wearing the facade of a meat-
sack.” His eyes opened again, a bright contrast to the greyscale world around
them. “There’s only so much a floating triangle can do.”
A floating triangle with limitless power in my dreams, Dipper thought.
At the thought of his dreams Dipper cringed, drawing back from Bill and
crossing his arms, though his frustration was not directed at the god himself.
That’s right: this was all a dream. In the real world Dipper was passed out on
the ground in the middle of the forest, just waiting for a predator to come and
eat him up (Bill had told him he would be safe, but that did not reassure him
in the slightest).
Bill stared at him quizzically, tilting his head to the side in the same manner
a cat would. “What is it, Pine Tree?”
Dipper sighed, shaking off the uneasy feeling. “Nothing.” He bit his lip. “I
was just thinking about how this isn’t actually happening. I mean, in the real
world at least.”
Bill flashed Dipper a lopsided grin, before staggering towards him, shoving one
foot roughly in front of the other. “Don’t worry about it! I promised you would
be safe.” The pre-teen flinched back out of instinct, trying to get away from
the god who looked just about ready to fall over onto himself. “Don’t you trust
me?”
Dipper looked at him with uncertainty, and then nodded after a moment more of
silence. Bill ceased movement, standing still but still wobbling slightly.
“Great!”
The human watched him struggle to maintain balance, before finally deciding to
speak up: “do you need any help?” he asked, already beginning to walk over to
where Bill was currently standing.
Bill extended a hand, as if to stop Dipper from continuing any further. “Nope,”
he said, confidence radiating in his voice. “I’ve got it.” The god lowly
chuckled. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been in a vessel that walks on two legs.
Even though it’s all in a dream, I have a bit of trouble getting used to it.”
“Oh.” The pre-teen said, albeit still being slightly confused. “Interesting.”
Bill gave a small hum of agreement, this time moving his arms up and down,
getting the movements more accurate to those of a human than in his previous
attempt.
“So…” Dipper started, un-crossing his arms. “What are we going to do? Like,
look around the town and stuff?” the pre-teen did his best to conceal it, but
the excitement in his voice betrayed any mask of indifference he might have put
on.
The god made a finger gun at him, pointing and shooting. “Bingo! Today marks
the first day of a magical and brand-new journey. A journey which happens to
include you and me.”
“Yay?” Dipper said, more of a question than anything. “Where are we going?”
“That,” the god paused, as if to create some sort of suspense. “Will be kept a
secret. Don’t worry about it, though,” he waved a hand dismissively, “you’ll
find out soon enough.”
Dipper ignored the suspicion in the back of his head that insisted this was a
bad idea. It wasn’t like he didn’t believe it (he had only known Bill for less
than a day but already knew that anything involving the god was bound to be
disastrous), it was that he had made a deal, and wanted the thing Bill had
offered him: knowledge. The allure of wisdom was great, and almost impossible
for Dipper to deny.
Bill extended a hand towards Dipper, who stared at it inquisitively. “Come on,
Pine Tree, take my hand.”
It hardly required a moment’s worth of consideration; Dipper started forward,
and took Bill’s hand graciously.
Then, the world shifted and changed around them, causing Dipper to pull back in
surprise. He looked around, eyes wide in a mixture of both confusion and
wonder. After regaining his bearings, he took time to observe his surroundings:
a waterfall, a small pond at the bottom of it, fish diving in and out of the
water. It was a beautiful setting. Dipper found himself wanting to take a
picture.
The pre-teen had never discovered this part of Gravity Falls, and was amazed by
the vast area of land in front of him that had gone unexplored. He had never
read about this area, and if he did, it was long since buried in the back of
his mind.
Bill stepped forward, taking his place right next to Dipper and significantly
less wobbly than before. “So,” the god’s glowing yellow eyes surveyed the area,
cold and calculating. Dipper wondered if Bill was trying to figure out if he
had made the right decision by bringing him there. “Do you like it?” he
questioned, looking down at Dipper, smile gracing his face. “I thought that it
would be a fine place to start, considering that there’s a great deal of things
here.”
Dipper didn’t see much of anything besides trees and water, but decided to take
Bill’s word for it. “Yeah,” he breathed out, his exhilaration showing in the
way his cheeks flushed and his pupils dilated. “It’s fantastic.”
Bill grinned. “Good,” he said.
Dipper took a few steps forward, leaving Bill’s side and motioning to the
waterfall, the main attraction of the place. “Where exactly in Gravity Falls is
this? I’ve never seen or heard about it.”
“Yeah,” Bill began, catching up to Dipper and resuming position by his side.
“There’s a reason for that.”
Dipper raised an eyebrow, in question, looking at the god expectantly.
Bill explained further: “it’s a dangerous area. And for that reason, not that
many of you flesh-sacks come here.” He scoffed, “which is just stupid to me.
The monsters aren’t that dangerous.” Then, after a moment of consideration,
“for the most part.”
The pre-teen couldn’t help but to laugh at that one, raising a pale hand to
cover his mouth and stifle the giggles that came out. “For the most part?” he
asked, though it was a rhetorical question. “What does that even mean?”
“They may or may not attack you depending on how they feel that particular
day.”
Dipper bit back another laugh, and made a half-hearted attempt at comprehending
everything. “So, what are ‘they’?”
“Grindylows.” Bill responded simply. “They drag tiny meat-sacks into the water
when they get too close. I’ll spare you the details of what happens next, but
it isn’t that hard to imagine.”
Dipper cringed, thinking about what exactly would ‘happen next’. Luckily enough
for him, Bill didn’t elaborate more. “I think I’ve heard of them before…” he
trailed off, distantly recalling reading an old and worn down textbook in the
town library. “What do they look like, again?”
“Well, for starters, they have—actually, let me just show you.” Bill snapped,
and a small creature popped into existence in front of them, swaddled by blue
flames; Dipper flinched back in surprise.
“Oh my—what is that thing?” he asked, staring at it suspiciously.
Bill, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease, merely regarding it with a
dismissive wave of his hand. “Relax, Pine Tree. It’s not actually real,
remember?” he tapped the side of his head, “just a dream. A dream which I have
full control over, but a dream nonetheless.”
Dipper squinted, observing it closer. It was a tiny, scrawny being with the
thinnest arms he had ever seen. However, unlike most creatures Dipper had seen,
instead of a pair of legs it had many tentacles, twisting and contorting on the
ground. It’s skin was a light grey, and its eyes glowed a dull green. It
blinked owlishly at Dipper as he drew near, reaching a hand out to touch it.
If Bill didn’t want him to touch it, then he didn’t say anything, merely
standing there and watching as the human boy made an attempt to pet it, as one
would pet a dog. Dipper realized that it was a strange thing to do, but he knew
that the grindylow could not hurt him since Bill was in control of it.
His hand made contact with grey scales and he carefully withdrew, realizing
quickly that he was not a fan of wet and sticky areas. Dipper mumbled a
complaint about the texture before following it up with: “I don’t know what I
was expecting, but that thing was way more disgusting than I was expecting.”
“Yeah,” Bill hummed in agreement, “that’s what scales tend to feel like.”
Dipper flushed from embarrassment and turned away, shifting his focus away from
the god and back to the monster.
He looked up at Bill, and then over to the waterfall. “Is that were these
things live? I would’ve thought they’d have preferred to live in a still body
of water. Y’know, tentacles and all.”
“Grindylows will live in any place there is water.” Bill responded. “It doesn’t
matter if it’s a pond, lake, river, or even a waterfall. They can adapt well,
shall we say.” The god looked down at the creature before sneering, “gross
little things they are. In my opinion the only thing they’re good for is their
teeth.” Bill motioned to the small being and its mouth opened, revealing rows
upon rows of sharp incisors. Dipper looked on in a mixture of fascination and
horror, unable to prevent himself from imagining those thing biting down into
his arm. “Casually fighting enemies and you need a quick way to piss them off?
Throw one these guys at them and I can guarantee they’ll be screaming in
seconds.”
Dipper snorted at Bill’s joke, raising a hand to stifle his chuckles, before
lowering it to make a playful jab back at the god. “But Bill,” he whined. “I’ll
never be able to get my hands on one of these and you know it! I mean, look at
me,” Dipper looked down at himself, pouting slightly. “I’m human! Not to
mention that I can barely lift ten pounds without any help.”
Bill raised an eyebrow, cleary amused. “Pine Tree, you’re human? I would have
never guessed!” he rested his head on the pre-teen’s shoulder, the unexpected
action eliciting a gasp from the younger male. “But if you really want, I can
help you get one of these things for, ah, further research purposes.”
Dipper chortled out another breathy laugh, gently pushing the god’s head off of
his shoulder. “Number one, the way you’re making it sound isn’t all that
appealing.” Bill snorted, before adding in a small quip about how it was
definitely appealing; Dipper ignored it for the most part, continuing on with
his speech. “Number two, you can’t even interact with the psychical world, so
how do you plan on getting me one?”
“Oh, I have my ways.” Bill said, in a tone that would imply that he was up to
no good.
Dipper frowned, only half-serious. “Please don’t do anything drastic.”
“I won’t!” then, almost as if it were an afterthought, “I promise.”
“Good.” Dipper nodded in affirmative. He turned his gaze back to the grindylow,
who had been standing (was it standing if it had tentacles?) patiently for the
past couple of minutes in which he and Bill had been bantering. “So, what else
is there to this place? Or is it just a nice looking waterfall and couple of
particularly vicious creatures?”
“There’s more.” Bill said calmly, shortly thereafter removing the creature from
Dipper’s dream with a snap of his fingers. The pre-teen blinked, not expecting
its sudden dissapearance.
“It would be nice if you could show me?” Dipper offered meekly.
“That is part of the deal.” Bill grinned, before walking over to the edge of
pond that had formed as a result of the waterfall. Dipper had to significantly
pick up his pace in order to catch up with the god. At Bill’s mention of the
word ‘deal’, Dipper recalled everything that had transpired between them in the
last twenty four hours. About how this whole thing started because he had
decided to get caught by the worst group of monsters lurking in the woods. And
then he made the deal with Bill, in exchange for knowledge, and… wait a minute.
The agreement that the pre-teen had made with the god had absolutely nothing to
do with his initial reason for summoning him; Dipper felt an urge to chastise
himself for his own foolishness.
In the beginning, it had been about saving his own life. After all, those
monsters that had been chasing after him were relentless, and if he had held
his silence for any longer they surely would have came it and eaten him alive
(or worse). Dipper chose the safe route—the only route. In his eyes, it was the
god or certain death. He chose the god.
But somehow they got off track.
Bill started smooth-talking him, making offers that he knew full well did not
belong in a conversation about saving Dipper’s life. And Dipper let him. He let
him talk, propose deals that were practically irresistible to the younger.
Knowledge, adventure, the pursuit of something greater lurking in the woods of
Gravity Falls. The pre-teen ate it up, always willing to learn something new.
And if that something was irrelevant to his own survival then Dipper didn’t
need to know.
He sighed, dragging a pale hand over his face and letting it rest on his
forehead for a moment. Dipper didn’t make a deal to save his life; he made a
deal that granted him wisdom.
After catching up to Bill’s long strides, and pausing for a moment to catch his
breath, Dipper looked over the water’s edge, unable to see the bottom of the
pond. He angled his head towards Bill, staring at him inquisitively. “So,
what’s in here? The ‘Fountain of Youth’, or something?”
“Nope,” the god said, still staring down at the pond. “It’s something much
better, kid.”
Dipper raised an eyebrow in scepticism. “Really? Not much else I can think of
that’s better than the Fountain of Youth.” Bill chuckled, and snapped his
fingers, resulting in the water in front of the pair parting, a small trapdoor
becoming visible at the bottom of the pond.
“Is that what I think that is?” Dipper asked, squinting at it. The trapdoor
itself wasn’t all that extravagant, but the implications of it being there were
startling to the pre-teen. What purpose did it even have at the bottom of a
pond? Whoever was using it must have had a lot of secrets to hide. He turned to
look at Bill, his face a mixture of confusion and excitement. “Does it lead to
something?”
Bill gave an affirmative nod of his head. “Of course it does. And yes, while
this whole thing isn’t even happening, and is in your dreams, that doesn’t mean
you can’t use that knowledge in the real world.” He paused, inhaling a breath
Dipper had a suspicion he didn’t need. “When you wake up, feel free to come
down here.” The god chuckled, “that is, if you can part the water like Moses.
But I’m sure you’ll figure out a way eventually.”
Dipper frowned at Bill. “Can’t you just tell me?”
“Oh, tsk, tsk, Pine Tree.” He began, taking a step into the dry land that had
resulted in between the separated waters. “Don’t you know that if I spoil it
for you that would ruin all the fun?”
“Please?” Dipper crossed his arms.
“Hey, I offered you knowledge, but not all knowledge. Am I wrong?”
Dipper huffed out a dry “no”, and followed after Bill hesitantly, scared that
the water would collapse in on them at any moment, despite the fact that he
knew it was all a dream.
Bill snapped his fingers once more, and the trapdoor sprung open. Dipper could
hardly see what lied below it, both because of the time of day and the fact
that it was just dark down there. The god extended a hand to him in offering.
Dipper accepted the God’s hand, taking it within his own. Slowly, Bill pulled
them down the stairs, taking slow steps as to make sure the pre-teen didn’t
slip.
He sniffed, smelling what seemed to be worn out pages of leather books, maybe a
few other things too. “What’s down here, anyway?”
Bill didn’t say anything in response. Suddenly, the place was lit up, dozens of
blue flames sparking to life from the various candles that littered the shelves
and desks.
A library; or perhaps, a study.
“Holy…” Dipper brought a hand to his mouth, looking at Bill in shock. “Where
did you bring me?”
“I figured we might need a place to meet.” Bill answered simply. “Call it a
hang out spot,” he shrugged.
“But it’s so—” he cut himself off, unsure what to say to highlight the
magnificence of the room.
Perhaps it was because of the grandeur of the space, or perhaps it was because
his brain had had an information overload within the past twenty-four hours,
but Dipper felt the urge, strong and most certainly there, to hug Bill
(impulse, he had deduced. A natural reaction when one received a gift of great
value to them).
Dipper dutifully ignored it, and continued on in observing the objects around
him.
In one corner, there was a fancifully carved desk, complete with burning blue
candles to light up whatever he decided to put on it. The chair lying in front
of it seemed made for a god to sit on, with the plush red cushions and all.
There were shelves upon shelves of dark mahogany that lined the walls, the
books contained within them appearing to be ancient, and if not that, just old.
A fireplace, in the center of the wall adjacent to the desk, two small
armchairs placed next to it. Carpets, and paintings, and oh God, it was simply
gorgeous.
“I, um… I don’t what to say, honestly.” Dipper took a few steps forward, to
take a closer look at everything. “And this—all of this is in the real world,
right?”
“Yup,” Bill responded. “As it turns out, a couple of researchers set up shop
here about… oh, last century? They’re not around any more, per say, but as you
can see, they weren’t in a haste to leave! Barely took anything with them.”
Then, in a quieter tone: “didn’t have the chance to take anything with them.”
Dipper turned around, grin plastered onto his face.
“Which leaves this place all to us.” Bill finished. He spread his arms,
expectantly.
The pre-teen sighed, in a manner that would imply unwillingness, but advanced
towards Bill, and into his waiting arms.
The hug was warmer, and definitely more pleasant than he had been expecting. It
wasn’t at all like the crushing hugs he had received from Mabel, or even
Grunkle Stan. It was pleasant in a way that was inherently good, and it left
Dipper craving more of the warm embrace in a way that he never had before. Bill
tightened his arms around the pre-teen, much to Dipper's surprise, and it
created a sense of intimacy that he was very unused to.
To Dipper, it was over before it even started; Bill pulled away, removing
himself from Dipper and putting the arms that had been so tightly wrapped
around him back by his sides.
The pre-teen coughed awkwardly.
If Bill noticed, he didn’t say anything.
“So, is this like, the meeting spot from now on?” Dipper asked, sparing another
glance at the extravagant furniture that littered the room. “It’s nice, and I
like it, but you still haven’t told me how to get here, and how to get in
here.”
“Like I said before, kid. It’ll all come to you soon.”
“That’s very cryptic. And also not helpful.” Dipper countered.
“What’re you going to do about it, Pine Tree?”
Dipper couldn’t think of anything good to retaliate with, so he decided that
silence was the best answer.
He stepped forward, already reaching out to grab one of the books that had been
put inside of the shelves, and squinting at what had been inscribed into the
spine. “The Odyssey”, it read. Dipper pulled it out for further inspection.
“Old books—?” he cut himself off with a gasp of surprise. And then, defeatedly,
a sigh. “You scared me.”
Bill was triangular again, and looking as smug as ever. Well, however smug a
triangle could look.
“It was on purpose! Get used to it kid, I’ll be doing that a lot.”
Dipper didn’t much see the point in doing that other than to piss him off; why
would a god need to shift forms, anyway? He sighed, again, and pointed to the
copy of “The Odyssey” in his hands.
“Old books?” he questioned, meeker this time.
“Yup. All sorts of em’.” The god floated over to where Dipper was standing,
looking over all of the books on the shelves. “‘The Republic’, ‘Beowulf’, ‘The
Epic of Gilgamesh’, ‘The Song of Roland’, ‘The Canterbury Tales’, ‘The Iliad’,
and, of course: ‘Romeo and Juliet.” Bill finished. “Quite the collection, don’t
you agree?”
Dipper nodded, only able to blink numbly at all of the information that had
been thrown at him. “So, like, what now? We just hang out? Talk about life?”
The god appeared to be amused by Dipper’s idea about what hanging out with him
would be like. “Actually, kid,” Bill brought up a small hand up to his eye, and
looked down at an invisible watch. “If I’m correct, it’s about time you go.
Your family might be worried about you!”
“I’m sure I have time left. It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long…” he
frowned, and then Bill pointed at his own wrist, which now magically had a
watch on it.
“Says here it’s… 5:21.” Dipper’s eyes widened, and he rushed over to Bill’s
side, looking down at the watch. He mumbled out a rather profane expletive, and
the god laughed in that annoyed, condescending way of his.
“Wake me up?” Dipper asked, the faintest of whines in his voice.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Don’t answer a question with a question you—” he stopped himself. “Please?”
Bill just looked at him.
Dipper awoke, lying on his back and staring up at the morning sky. It wasn’t so
dark that he couldn’t see, but was by no means light out. Around maybe… 5:30?
He sat up, and was going to make a snide remark to himself about how Bill was
an idiot, but gasped at the sight in front of him. The same waterfall, the same
pond as the god had shown him (later he would worry about how he got there in
the first place)—but that wasn’t what surprised him.
Still as death, only a few feet away from him, was a grindylow, eyes cold and
unfeeling. Or, let Dipper rephrase that: a dead grindylow.
The pre-teen scampered backwards, hands scrabbling at and surface they could
find so as to propel him away from the lifeless corpse.
For a moment, his mind struggled to find a reason why one of the wretched
things had died. At first he thought it was because it had flopped out of the
water and beached itself, and then he had thought that another creature had
attacked it, and then he had the sudden realization of: Bill.
The quick words from earlier, that he had brushed off as a joke, struck him as
more than that in that moment, when he was sitting only a few feet away from a
corpse. “But if you really want, I can help you get one of these things for,
ah, further research purposes.”
Dipper blanched. So the god wasn’t joking, after all.
He wondered how the god had managed it. It was all he could think about in
those woods, looking down with disgust at the still body.
It seemed almost certain that Bill had used him as a means to kill it, being
that he had had the tendency to make his body do things when he was sleeping
(i.e. sleepwalking home in the middle of the night). However, the thought was
gone almost as soon as it came, since there was no trace of blood or the
creature’s slime on him.
Dipper rolled over, onto his stomach, before pushing himself up and onto his
feet. He looked around breathless, wary of even the slightest noise that echoed
throughout the lonesome forest.
One of his hands shot down, picking up his bag with haste and slinging it over
his shoulders. The boy cast another glance towards the body, before having to
look away. It wasn’t like Dipper hadn’t seen animals before. He had—plenty of
times, actually. Biology class, roadkill, the occasional woodland creature that
had fallen prey to some larger, and much stronger predator. Yet somehow this
felt different. Dipper settled on the idea that this particular incident was
unexpected, causing his dramatic response. Yes, that made sense; he had woken
up and seen a dead thing lying only a few feet away from him. Of course he
would be surprised.
In any case, Dipper didn’t want to look at it anymore, and above all didn’t
want to think about why Bill had thought that giving him a dead grindylow was a
good idea.
Getting back home was easy, given that the sun was now rising and casting a
warm glow over the large expanse of the forest. Once Dipper had remembered that
he had a compass in his backpack, he pulled it out and made a beeline in the
direction that he knew for a fact his house was in.
It was the ‘don’t freak out Dipper because Bill actually murdered something for
you, oh my God’ part which was hard to deal with. Staying focused and not
tripping over every little thing that came into your path was hard when it
turned out that your sort-of-acquaintance was a bit more homicidal than you had
initially thought. Or did the god just not have a concept of what was
acceptable to humans? No, he must have. There was no way an literal god didn’t
know that humans didn’t like it when things died. So Bill either did it because
he didn’t care, or… well, that was really the only thing Dipper could think of.
He opened and closed the front door of his house in record speeds, shoving
himself inside and completely disregarding the fact that he was probably making
so much noise it would wake up all the local wildlife and fauna.
Soon, he bolted up the stairs, making a desperate bid to get in his room as
quickly as possible so that Mabel wouldn’t wake up because of the sunlight and
start questioning him.
Halfway up, and he crumpled to the floor, letting out a startled yelp of pain.
He looked down, cringing at his leg, wondering if he had somehow managed to cut
it while walking through the forest. It didn’t seem all that unlikely given his
predisposition for getting hurt. And there it was, a torn piece of his pant
leg, the flesh underneath looking red and swollen. He would have to take a look
at that later. Dipper bit his lip; regardless of how much it hurt, he had to
keep going.
On second floor now. Okay, so he was making progress, just open the door to
their room and—
Too late; Mabel stood there, arms crossed, and stared at him with an expression
that was in equal parts curiosity and worry.
“Hi”, he said, in a lame greeting.
“Dipper,” she replied back.
Oh, that was bad; Mabel never used his first name in that tone.
“Well, um,” he began, unsure how to excuse himself when he had been caught red-
handed. “I can explain?”
“Have you been sneaking out again?” okay, so clearly she wasn’t going to buy
any of what he said.
“Ah, funny thing that is…” he tripped over his words. Then, with an exaggerated
palm to the face, he continued: “it’s stupid, but I thought that maybe… maybe I
could get rid of my fear of the forest—actually, the dark forest in particular.
But,” he looked up at her bashufully, “clearly that didn’t work.”
Mabel looked at him, unimpressed, before sighing. “I don’t like to play the bad
sister, and I know you didn’t mean anything when you did it, but Dipper, please
don’t sneak out without letting me know. I don’t show it a lot, but I worry
about you getting yourself in trouble.” Dipper saw the tears threatening to
spill in her eyes, and he immediately felt a rush of guilt. God, he was a
terrible brother.
“Sorry?” he offered, an apology which he hoped would fix the situation, but
knew would be ineffective against Mabel.
Her eyes softened, and a smile steadily grew on her face. “Awkward sibling
hug?”
Dipper nodded, and they walked towards each other at the same time, before
eventually falling into a tight embrace. “Pat, pat.” They repeated in unison.
The hug lasted for only a few more seconds, before Mabel pulled away, and
smiled at him in the Mabel sort of way that she always did. “Promise not to do
anything stupid?”
Dipper swallowed. “Promise,” he breathed out.
“Good,” she said, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. “Let’s just… go to sleep
alright? I’ll pretend this never happened.” She looked at him. “For you.”
He nodded. “Thanks. I’m, um, going to use the bathroom.”
“You do that, Bro-Bro,” Mabel walked away and let out a yawn, before crawling
back beneath her sheets.
Dipper walked into the bathroom, backpack still in tow. He hastily shut the
door behind him, dropped the bag, and stepped over to the toilet, placing a leg
on the cover for further inspection. Then, looking down, that was when he
finally saw them: an array of purple bruises and deep cuts littering his legs,
stinging slightly upon touch. He gingerly touched them with the pads of his
fingers, feeling the dried blood and the shredded skin.
Dipper bit back a hiss, before reaching over to the medicine cabinet and
pulling out the bottle of rubbing alcohol. Then, after a moment of searching,
he grabbed a few cotton balls along with it. After soaking them with the
spirit, it was only a matter of not freaking out at the harsh sting of alcohol
against skin.
So apparently the god could kill things in the real world but couldn’t heal up
wounds. Great. Just what he needed.
Dipper finished quickly. He would rather not spend too much time disinfecting
his wounds (that he had already rubbed with the solution about ten-times over)
when he could be getting precious sleep and resting his weary limbs. Dipper
wasn’t a scientist, but he knew that if he didn’t get a decent amount of rest
then eventually exhaustion would take over and he would pass out. If Bill were
there he would probably make a comment about how human bodies were so fragile
and useless. Then Dipper would laugh. And Christ, just the thought of having to
deal with the god again was giving him a headache.
Which was why he needed sleep. Desperately.
After applying about five more coats of the rubbing alcohol to his cuts (always
good to be thorough), Dipper put the aid supplies back in the medicine cabinet
and began to shrug off all of the accessories on his body.
Last night—technically this morning—he had gone to sleep wearing virtually
everything that he had worn while exploring the woods, and running away from
monsters, and making a deal with Bill, and pretty much all of the other stupid
things he had done. He was so tired that at the moment it just didn’t seem
worthwhile to remove all of his clothes, especially when they were so comfy.
Slowly, he removed his signature hat; the very same hat which had coined him
the nickname “Pine Tree”. Next, of course, the scarf, which he set on the
counter. And lastly, the peacoat, which he removed with care and gently folded,
placing it neatly the closet shelf to be used on a later date.
Dipper looked down at himself, and then up at the mirror, noting the torn
pajamas. Honestly, he wasn’t even going to bother to change out of them. They
were still wearable, and he didn’t feel like going out and grabbing new clothes
from his dresser. What was the saying? “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”? Well,
Dipper intended on following that advice; the pajamas were still wearable.
He opened the bathroom, twisting the golden knob, before stumbling over to his
bed and promptly collapsing onto it. He faintly heard Mabel snicker, but
decided to ignore it.
And so, sleep encompassed him.
But this was Dipper Pines; it would be insane to think that he could get any
actual rest.
“Human bodies are so fragile and useless!” at least he was right about what
Bill would say were he to show up.
“Bill,” he greeted, unenthusiastically.
Dipper sat up in bed, and let out a long sigh, before bringing up both of his
hands to rub at sleepy eyes. He pointedly looked at Bill, who merely blinked at
him in his triangular form.
“Heya kid, did you miss me?”
“No,” he groaned, “I saw you half an hour ago. Do you really think I’m that
clingy?”
“Not necessarily. But I sure do know that I am,” Bill said cheekily, as though
to poke fun at Dipper.
The pre-teen threw a glare in the god’s direction, before throwing the covers
back over himself and lying down, facing the wall.
“Oh, don’t play coy with me. Didn’t you enjoy our little chat?” Dipper rolled
his eyes, but was stubborn, refusing to turn around and acknowledge Bill.
“Especially the present. Tell me, Pine Tree, was it a nice surprise? I was
expecting you to be a tad bit more happy about it, but oh, what do I know about
humans?”
“The quality of the gift is debatable,” Dipper finally said. “But I think what
I would enjoy the most right now is some peace and quiet, away from you?”
Bill made a sound which sounded like a snort, and appeared directly in front of
Dipper, partly phasing through the wall, staring him down with his single eye.
He simply rolled onto his other side, choosing to look in the direction where
Mabel lay, sleeping comfortably and blissfully unaware of his and the god’s
conversation. “Shame on you, kid. No way you’re getting rid of me that easily.
After all, I happen to specialize in dreams.”
Dipper closed his eyes; Bill snickered from behind him.
“Alright, I get it, I get it. You don’t want me around.” There was a glowing
yellow light that appeared towards his front, and Dipper could tell that the
god had taken up position only a few inches away from his face. “But the thing
is, kiddo,”
Dipper was pulled from the bed roughly by an invisible hand, thrown to the
ground, along with the blankets that he was still swaddled in, with a harsh
thud. He looked up at Bill uneasily, unable to contain the primal cry of fear
that had escaped him.
“I want you around.” The god finished.
Dipper looked to the side with a huff, before finally addressing Bill. “Dude, I
know that already. Sort of. But I need some time for myself. As in, sleep time
for myself. Y’know the whole charade: peaceful dreams, bunnies in meadows,
unicorns in fields.” Bill stared at him blankly. “Look, all what I want is some
time to myself. And, seeing as you are determined to somehow be in all of my
dreams, it appears as though that is time you are not willing to give me.”
“You want happy dreams?”
“More than that," he started, grabbing all of the messed blankets and crawling
up onto the bed. "I want preferably less monster corpses left as… gifts for me.
I don’t know how it works for gods, but us humans don’t appreciate death and
destruction.” He breathed in, eyes still closed in a desperate bid to not give
the god the satisfaction that he desired.
“What,” Bill started, indignation clear in his tone. “You didn’t like my
present? I thought a grindylow would be perfect for you! I mean, does it really
have to be alive? Seems like more of an inconvenience, to me.”
“I don’t care if you give me dead monsters or not,” Dipper snapped. Then, after
a careful moment of reconsideration of how Bill would perceive that statement,
“okay, I care a little, but that’s not the point. All of this is just…” he
struggled to come up with the right words, though they were on the tip of his
tongue. “Overwhelming.”
Finally, he opened his eyes, making an attempt at meeting Bill’s sole eye with
bravery; that idea, however, was abandoned quickly and Dipper soon found his
gaze darting all over the room. “Less than twenty four hours ago, I made a deal
with you, and you are being… you. Then, I go to sleep, you won’t leave me
alone, and when I do finally get an ounce of rest, it’s nightmares. I wake up,
and the cycle continues.” He rolled onto his back and threw an arm over his
eyes. “A break, Bill. I want a break.”
“Well you could have been blunt about it.” Bill finally interjected.
“Dude, the only reason I actually paid attention to you this morning and
visited, if that’s what you want to call it, was because I had the time, and I
was excited, and the full reality of the situation hadn’t hit me yet—but then,
back at the pond…” he trailed off, recalling his own thoughts from the time. “I
sort of feel swindled, if that makes any sense. Back when we first made this
deal of ours, I wanted your help to survive. And what did you do? You smooth-
talked me until I made a deal that had literally nothing to do with my
survival. Is that how you make your deals around here?”
Dipper felt a flicker of irritation from Bill. “Watch it there, Pine Tree.
You’re treading a very fine line.”
The pre-teen mumbled out a meager apology and finally shifted his arm, so that
he could look at Bill from the corner of his eye. “I know. I just… sleep,
please?”
Bill seemed unsatisfied, and for once Dipper could understand why. He sighed,
more of a groan than anything, and steeled himself. “What do you want?”
“What…?” the god asked, in a manner that practically begged Dipper to continue;
this time he couldn’t stifle the snort at his obviousness.
“What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone when I want to go to
sleep?—and no, I know what you’re thinking, but there shall be no deals
involved.” Bill appeared to be slightly disappointed by that one, so Dipper
continued. “Want me to visit you more or something? I can certainly try to do
that.”
“While the offer is tempting, I’m afraid that’s nowhere near enough to satiate
me.”
Dipper looked at him, one eyebrow raised in questioning. “What are you
suggesting?”
“Oh, y’know, nothing major. Just a small…” the god’s eye turned blue, and his
hand burst alive with cerulean flame. Dipper jumped back, still not used to
seeing them. “Favor?”
He gulped. “Whatever favor you have in mind, it definitely doesn’t sound like
it would benefit me. Like, at all.” Then, after a nervous glance back down at
Bill’s hand, “and can you please make a conscious effort not to use fire
whenever you want to emphasize a point? There are other, more peaceful ways of
doing so.” Bill’s eye returned to normal, and the flame flickered down into
nothing.
“No, I think I’ll keep doing this.” Bill countered. “It won’t be an entirely
new deal, but more of a… footnote on the contract.”
“And what, if I may ask, exactly is that footnote?”
“It benefits us both. I get to spend a little time in your body, in the real
world, and in exchange, you get even more clues as to the mystery that is
Gravity Falls.”
“Possession?” Dipper’s brows furrowed in confusion. “So you enter my body, and
do what with it? Don’t see how that really helps me here.”
“I take notes. Write down all the things that I know. Which is to say, a lot.”
“Still lost.” Dipper added in, unable to prevent a note of snark from entering
his tone. He shifted in bed, until he was sitting up, looking at Bill in a
deadpan sort of way. “So what I’m getting here is that you possess my body,”
the god hummed in agreement, “and then just… use it to, what, scribble down
some tips and tricks for becoming a better adventurer?”
Bill made a finger gun with the digits on his right hand, pointing it straight
at Dipper and then making a firing motion. “Bingo! I promise that I’ll only do
it while you’re asleep.”
“The plot thickens,” Dipper mumbled, bringing a hand up to rest over his
forehead in an over exaggerated and dainty manner, gently rubbing circles into
the flesh in an effort to soothe himself. “As an added bonus, I get a god that
will walk around with my body while I sleep. A god who has proven himself
entirely willing to commit murder.” He removed his hand, instead opting to
stare, unimpressed, at the buoyant entity. “I think you’re real charming Bill,
but I’m going to have to say ‘no deal’.”
“Don’t fool yourself into thinking that was a request,” Bill drawled, now
sitting (floating, but Dipper found no other apt way to describe it) in a
relaxed position, drifting around lazily, only centimeters away from the pre-
teen’s head.
Dipper stared at him, confusion written all over his face. “Sorry, I didn’t
quite—”
“Nope. Not a request. Sorry Pine Tree, but that footnote has now been stamped
proudly smackdab in the center of the contract,” the god produced the
aforementioned contract, which apparated from within a pyre of blue flames.
True to his word, there were black words inked into the paper, largely stating:
“POSSESSION ALLOWED.”
Dipper squinted, still trying to process exactly what all of it meant. He
looked up at Bill, who, instead of just laughing and gloatingly announcing his
victory, was holding out a pen in offering to the boy. “What do you want me to
do with this?” he inquired.
“Sign here,” Bill pointed to a spot on the contract with a hand that had
manifested from his back, attached to a long and spindly black arm. Dipper was
going to question it, but was forced into silence as Bill shoved the writing
utensil into his hand. “And here,” the god finished, the pointer finger of the
extra appendage moving over to land on another dotted black line.
“Wh—” he stuttered, “what? What am I even signing?”
“Oh, y’know, this and that. No big deal, an add-on to the contract.” Bill
reached out to place the now-available, penless hand over Dipper’s, almost as
if instructing him on how to write his signature.
“Wait, like the sort of add-on you were talking about earlier? But I don’t
want—”
“Oh, hush now, Pine Tree. C’mon, sign it, sign it.” He pressed his hand into
the skin on Dipper’s flesh, pressing down, urging him to scribe his name.
Surprisingly enough, Bill’s hand wasn’t at all like he expected it to be; it
was smooth, almost like plastic, and if he paid enough attention (which was
hard, in his current, befuddled state) to the way human tissue met its godly
counterpart, he could almost feel the way it drew him in, as if nothing were
there at all, and he were simply waving a hand through through air.
The pre-teen was taken from his thoughts as a harder, insistent push was
delivered to his hand. “Stop that!” he snapped, doing his best to not throw out
as many swears as he could. Out of sheer confusion, and desperation, because
Bill was practically yelling in his ear now, Dipper signed it, hand scribbling
out his name in a clean, familiar motion.
Bill finally stopped his screaming, plucking the contract from Dipper’s hands
and observing it calmly. Dipper bristled in his bed, thoughts all over the
place as he hurriedly tried to recollect what had just transpired.
“Good,” Bill simpered, and Dipper just knew, despite the fact that the god had
no mouth in his triangular form, that he was flashing him a shark-like grin.
Dupper huffed out a breath of indignation, ready to throw some words of insult
towards the self-satisfied, floating being; he opened his mouth, lips already
tugging downwards, and was going to—
“But you should have read the fine print.”
The god disappeared in an azure puff of smoke and Dipper was left gaping, still
partly in shock, as the world felt color again and agonizing, unfiltered
sunlight flooded in through the window.
He cringed, unprepared for the sudden and most certainly unwanted intrusion of
light into the room, before flopping onto the bed, back hitting the mattress
with a thud that he hoped Mabel nor Grunkle Stan heard. Now he was paranoid.
Great.
The pre-teen groaned, shoving a pillow into his face and letting out his
frustrations, and equally as present confusions. He swore that he was going to
give the god a verbal beating the next time they met; oh, he was never going to
hear the end of it.
With that lovely thought in mind (because now Dipper had the rest of the day to
come up with ways to roast Bill into non-existence), he smiled grimly, planning
his most exquisite torture. Well, that was, if he could manage to not get
killed during yet another hard and laborious day of working at the Mystery
Shack.
But work was work, and there was no way that Stan would let him off the hook,
especially if he was exhausted. He couldn’t let his underage employees be
getting any rest, now could he? Dipper could go on a tangent about his great-
uncle's poor management skills all day.
He pulled the covers up to his chin, and snorted; any God in heaven surely
pitied the twins for having such an employee as Stanford Pines.
Dipper sighed, rolling his eyes, and fell into a numb, dreamless sleep.
Chapter End Notes
     The plot thickens!
     Oh man, that was one hell of a ride, wasn't it? Nah, I'm just
     kidding, that chapter was probably very mundane. At this point I need
     to ego-boost myself because this fic has drained my heart and soul of
     any and all self-confidence.
     In any case, I suppose I shall leave you lovely readers to dwell on
     what you just read, so I make my leave! I will see you guys next
     month, unless I tragically die and cannot continue to update this
     fic. Ugh, now I'm all worried that I really am going to die and never
     be able to continue this fic... ah, now I know the true suffering of
     a writer.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     In which we learn that Dipper is more tired than he lets on and Bill
     is all too happy to watch him burn.
Chapter Notes
     [monthly updates] (exception listed at end)
     This chapter reflects my mood and I'm sorry for that. I'm also sorry
     to announce that unalike the other chapters, this one is only 8,000
     words. This month has been rough. Really rough. In between a lack of
     motivation and depression in general writing this boring af chapter
     made me want to give up on this entirely. But I didn't. Just for you
     guys.
     So I'm (not really) proud to present Chapter 3 in its purest form:
     unedited, unbetaed, and pretty much the equivalent of a 5th grader's
     poorly written English essay. Nothing much happens in this chapter
     other than some more background and the beginnings of Dipper's
     descent into... well, that's sort of a spoiler (if the tags didn't
     give away enough already).
     Without further ado, here you go. Hope you enjoy this... wonderful,
     work of art.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
There was a gentle sway to the trees. It was hardly noticeable, the way the
breeze sifted through their lengthy pine needles and ruffled the grass ever so
slightly. Squirrels and other small fauna scampered up trees, eyes darting
around in efforts to find food for their young. Sunlight glisten off of fur,
and shallow pools of water reflected beauty back up at the sky.
Dipper shifted, blinking wearily. The first thing that caught his attention was
the sheer warmth radiating from the burning hot orb above him. Almost
immediately did he fling an arm over his eyes, trying to shield them from the
near blinding light.
A crow landed on the ground a few feet away from him, chirping innocently and
seemingly unaware of the danger he as a human posed. It pecked at the dirt,
probably looking for worms or something of the like. Dipper shifted his arm
just slightly so that he could look at it, and frowned, shooing it away with a
swat of his hand. The small creature was resolute in its adamancy to stay put,
but after Dipper’s persistent attempts at coercing it into moving, it
eventually squawked and flapped its wings awkwardly, backing away in fright.
Dipper groaned and rolled onto his stomach, trying to push himself up onto his
arms. His fingers dug into the rich soil, dirt underneath his fingernails and
scratches lining the curves of his hand. It only proved to be a fruitless
endeavor. With little grace, he fell back down into the wiry grass, bent thin
by the multiple woodland animals that passed through the field.
Dipper felt exhausted. Not only physically, but mentally. It was like he hadn’t
gotten any sleep at all, despite the fact that he knew for sure he had passed
out last night in the comfort of his own bed.
The crow from only moments before landed with a loud croon on the ground next
to his head. He blinked up at it miserably, but didn’t bother trying to bat it
away. It blinked owlishly at him, cold eyes revealing a morbid curiosity.
This was normal.
Dipper couldn’t place a timestamp on when exactly he started waking up away
from home, but he knew for sure that it had at least been a week since the
first incident.
Of course, there had been panic (that was normal when you were stranded in the
middle of a forest). Dipper feared that he had been kidnapped, or had been
dumped in the middle of nowhere, left for dead, but quickly came to the
conclusion that those were highly unlikely scenarios, being that he had the
watchful omnipresent eye of a god looming over him at all times.
So he discarded the idea of abandonment entirely. Which left two distinct
possibilities: he had been frequently sleepwalking, and travelled into the
forest as a subconscious reaction to Bill’s presence in his mind—or it was Bill
himself doing this. Both seemed equally as plausible, but he didn’t bother
dwelling on it because of just how enervated he was from the physical
overexertion of his body.
That had been a week ago.
Dipper, to say the least, was not please with the sudden development and
subsequent deterioration of his sleep schedule. He was more irritable; grumpy;
times he spent with his sister were more them arguing about the disappearing
acts he would pull at nighttime and less them actually being siblings and
having fun.
Nowadays it was all just Bill. It was just the god, and his obnoxiously large
smile, glowing eyes, perplexing sense of fashion and eccentric personality.
Dipper couldn’t see him at all times, being that he didn’t have a solid
physical form, but he knew he was there. A blur in the corner of his vision or
a dream about floating triangles with top hats, he was there—and that alone was
enough for Dipper to be contented with the fact that he wasn’t going insane.
For as long as Bill remained the only constant in Dipper’s life (the only thing
that wasn’t ever-changing, shifting without him even realizing), the pre-teen
could tolerate the lies and the deception that surrounded the god.
Bill could be as despicable as he wanted, could keep delivering his grotesque
‘gifts’ and Dipper wouldn’t flinch. If he couldn’t rely on his own family for
consistency then Bill was the next best thing. He was eternal. He wouldn’t die.
He would keep being him for the rest of time and beyond that.
Dipper couldn’t help but to admire him for it, even though he knew that the
source of his expenditure was the god himself.
The pre-teen finally collected himself, steeling his body for the oncoming pain
that would be brought on from the movement of sore limbs. Dipper winced; it
hurt. Regardless he pushed onwards, managing to get his lithe figure to do
something other than cry in protest.
He rested on his knees, breathing heavily, and was at active risk of collapsing
back into the ground because of the shivering unsteadiness of his arms. Dipper
cursed and then sighed at his own inertness. The drained pre-teen rubbed a hand
over his face, trying to lessen the oncoming headache that threatened to
inflict more anguish on his body.
The crow trilled next to him, voice shrill and most certainly migraine-
inducing. Its black wings fluttered.
“Hey,” he whispered, voice hoarse. Out of all of the things he had done to irk
it, it seemed most unsettled by this, jumping backwards on skinny legs and
barking at him harshly. Dipper cringed as it only served to worsen the
headache.
The pre-teen wanted to come back with a retort at its incessant crowing, but a
bolt of pain straight to his frontal lobe made him do no such thing. Dipper
pressed his fingers into the invisible knot on his forehead, making a desperate
(albeit useless) attempt at easing his pain.
Bill was going to suffer for this one.
Dipper sat there in the field for an indefinite amount of time, his only
companions a crow and a migraine. Eventually something began to stir within him
as panic bit at the back of his mind. What had Bill done while he had been
asleep? The god had told him that he was going to take control over his body
while he had slept (approximate words being: I get to spend a little time in
your body, in the real world, and you get more clues as to the mystery that is
Gravity Falls.), in exchange for some extra knowledge. He hadn’t been very
specific about what that actually entailed, but Dipper was far too sleep
deprived and confused during the whole deal making process so he couldn’t tell
if that was because Bill was intentionally dodging his questions or if he had
zoned out while Bill explained more about the contract. Either way, it didn’t
work out in his favor, considering that he was stranded in the middle of the
field and his journal was nowhere to be found. His journal.
Dipper shot up from his place on the ground, ignoring the protests of his
aching limbs. He pulled at a fistful of his own hair in aggravation and
disappointment; it was midday. The sun was out. He had been gone all night. The
crow made an awful sound in the back of its throat and finally flew away,
apparently disgruntled by Dipper’s panicked state.
The pre-teen looked around the grass at his feet, urgently scanning the floor
with an increasing sense of dread. In his daze, he hadn’t even noticed the
time, the time. The sun was in the air, shining down on him. It was at its
highest point. Mabel, Grunkle Stan—they were probably looking for him now.
Dipper dropped to the ground, running his hands over every patch of land
available in a desperate bid to find his journal. Where had Bill put it? It
couldn’t have gone far. The god wouldn’t have let all of the information
contained within those pages disappear like that.
Dipper let out a huff of indignation just at the thought of such a thing, and
continued his search with a frightening fervor. Hands scrambled desperately as
sweat dripped from his forehead to his cheek. He felt disgusted but he needed
to continue, or else—
There. There it was. He clutched it to his chest, nervous fingers pulling at
the leather bound book. Dipper felt tremendous relief at the revelation that
no, his journal was not in fact gone, and that no one had tampered with it (for
anyone that read through it would surely think that he was insane), but that
was soon replaced by another wave of panic.
He had to go home. At his current rate Dipper would never be allowed to leave
the Shack again. Leaving unannounced was bad enough, but leaving unannounced
and getting caught was worse. Grunkle Stan would make him work overtime for
weeks.
Dipper became frustrated with himself for reasons that he wasn't quite sure of.
Maybe it was because he had made the deal with Bill in the first place or maybe
it was because he had let this happen to him.
The pre-teen pushed himself onto his feet. There was no time for moping about
what had already been done. If he didn’t return home soon he would be facing
the equal wrath of Mabel and Stan (if he wasn’t going to already).
The only problem was that he didn’t know where to go.
His backpack was gone, as well as his compass, so locating the Shack using
those means was impossible. He had never been in this location before, which
meant that navigating his way home by means of reading the terrain would be
hopeless toil. He hated having to resort to this method (especially since he
was still mad at the god), but there were no other options.
When in doubt, just call: “Bill Cipher.”
Bill appeared before Dipper even had the chance to blink. The world went
greyscale, sun fading to a dull glow, and Bill had an irksome grin on his face
at the look of ashamedness on the pre-teen’s face.
“Hello there, Pine Tree. How’s it going?” he asked. Dipper had a feeling the
god already knew the answer to that question, but refrained from saying
anything he might regret later.
“Bad,” Dipper grumbled out. “Obviously.”
Bill’s lips twisted into a mock frown. “I couldn’t tell! Is it the sleep
deprivation or the fact that you’re stranded in the middle of the forest with
no way home? Oh, wait, wait. Let me guess… I’m going to say both!” the god
yelled, cheerful despite the bleakness of the subject at hand. “Am I right? Or
am I right?”
Dipper stifled a snide remark, mood greatly soured by the god’s nonchalant
attitude. “Right. Sort of.” He meekly responded. “I just… look, can I get help
or what?”
The god appeared to be affronted by Dipper’s question. “No please?”
“Please!” Dipper practically shouted, growing heated at Bill’s refusal to
directly answer his question. “You’re the one who got me into this mess!”
“Careful of your tone,” Bill said cool. “Don’t forget just whom you’re speaking
to.”
Dipper’s hands clenched into fists, but he reluctantly complied, still fearful
despite his anger at Bill’s barely concealed threat.
“Sorry,” he mumbled out in a half-hearted apology. “But I think it’s about time
I got home. My family is probably really worried, and I can’t stay out in this
heat forever.”
Dipper’s mention of his family only seemed to make Bill’s mood plummet through
the ground. The god sneered, and Dipper watched with alarmed eyes. “Oh, what do
they care about you being gone? They hardly even noticed.”
“W-what?” Dipper asked, deeply confused.
“Stanle-Stanford wants a more attentive employ. Mabel wants a brother who isn’t
sneaking around all the time. Soos, Wendy, they both think you’re useless but
they don’t say anything in fear of hurting your feelings.”
“That’s not… true at all.” Dipper swallowed the lump in his throat, hardly able
to speak because of the emotions bubbling and overflowing within him.
“Your own parents left you with a sixty-year-old man because they didn’t want
to deal with you. Now you’re forced to work for him, receiving minimal pay, if
any at all.”
Dipper couldn’t argue with the jab about Stan, but couldn’t tolerate Bill bad
mouthing his parents. “Bill! I think that’s enough. They, um, I’m sure they
have their own reasons for—”
“Do they?” Bill asked, though Dipper knew it was entirely rhetorical. “At the
very least they could have kept you. It’s not like you have ever been much of
an issue to deal with. You either stay at home and read quietly or go out and
explore. It hardly seems like they would be bothered by that. They could keep
you where you would be happiest, at home. But they didn’t. Ever wonder why that
was?”
Dipper’s mouth remained tight in a line. He wasn’t sure what to say in response
to that. Did he defend them? Did he agree with Bill? His gaze instinctively
trailed to the floor, as he was afraid of what he would see if he looked at
Bill.
“But you don’t worry about a thing, Pine Tree. Because I’m right here for you.”
Bill smiled down at him, giving him a light bop on the nose with a finger.
“Okay?”
All what Dipper could do was nod.
“Good. I’m glad we can agree on something. Then, just go straight in that
direction.” Bill pointed the index finger of his right hand towards where the
Mystery Shack supposedly was.
Dipper eyed the god from the corner of his eye, still a bit shaken from Bill’s
belittlement of his entire family. That was a rather odd experience. Dipper
wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to be surprised by it, or if he should have
expected it, considering how Bill had always held something of a distaste for
his sibling and great uncle. His friends and his parents as well, now that he
thought about it.
Regardless of how bothered by it he was, DIpper found that Bill still did have
a point.
He wouldn’t consider his family’s treatment of him to be poor, necessarily, but
it definitely raised some eyebrows when he talked about it.
Mabel was over-excited and over-eager to do whatever she wanted, regardless of
how Dipper felt about it. He frowning in anger and she wouldn’t even notice. It
was annoying, because the only things she ever talked about were her friends or
boys that she was infatuated with. If Dipper ever had any complaints or qualms
Mabel would either ignore him or give him some half-assed advice about how to
solve his problems, and then go right back to talking about her own. It made
him feel like she just didn’t care at all.
And then there was Stan. Dipper knew that he wasn’t a bad person, but he
couldn’t help but to feel irritation every time his Grunkle talked down to him
like he was nothing more than some ant that didn’t deserve to be paid. The only
thing on Stan’s mind was money. It didn’t matter if Dipper had to be destroyed
in the process, if business was going well, then...
Oh God, he was starting to sound like Bill.
Dipper should not be talking about his family like this. He loved them, and
they loved him, and he had no reason to doubt that. His criticisms about them
were unjustified and unfair. Yet there was still a flicker of agitation that
rested in his heart. They never did anything for him; barely attended to his
social needs and left him all alone. Well, not completely alone.
Dipper nodded his head and looked off in the direction that Bill was pointing
in. “Um… thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Though the part about his family was
highly unnecessary. It wasn’t like Dipper needed to be told that Bill was
probably going to have his back more often than not.
“What, no hug?” Bill asked, extending his arms in offering. Dipper blinked at
him. “Come on.”
He turned around to face Bill, easily walking into his embrace and wrapping his
arms around him. It was a stiff, almost awkward hug. Dipper didn’t want to say
anything. Couldn’t say anything. He didn’t want the god to think that his
little rant about his family had been ignored.
“Thanks,” Dipper mumbled into Bill’s chest. He stared numbly at the too-bright
yellow of his vest. It looked odd in comparison to the greens and browns of
their surroundings. Then again, pretty much any non-natural color would stand
out.
Dipper drew back first. He felt one of Bill’s hands linger on his back, as if
the god didn’t want to let go, before he had swiftly moved it to give Dipper a
pat on the back.
“No problem, kid!” his arm withdrew to his side. “Safe travels!”
“Yeah, um, thanks, bye…?” when the pre-teen turned to look back at him, Bill
was already gone, vanished into thin air. Soon enough the world reverted back
to its usual, colorful self and everything was set back into motion. A strong
breeze blew past his face and a squirrel leapt through the grass next to him.
Dipper sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment of reprieve. He knew the way
home but that didn’t mean his headache had been soothed in the slightest. It
still hurt. As a matter of fact, everything still hurt.
He grumbled to himself about how much he hated Bill and he swore he heard a
chuckle come from behind him. Dipper didn’t bother turning around to look. He
simply opened his eyes and started towards the direction where he had been
informed the Shack was in.
Regardless of his hesitance, Dipper continued on, stepping over twigs and rocks
and an assortment of leaves on the ground. The cuts on his legs hadn’t
completely healed yet, but Dipper had slowly built up a higher tolerance to the
harsh conditions of the forest after the many days of sneaking around.
It would take some getting used to; breaking the rules like this every single
night. But he couldn’t resist. Despite his complaints, Dipper went every time
Bill asked.
He felt guilt when he looked at Mabel, because nowadays she always had this
stern ‘I’m concerned about you’ face on. Dipper had pleaded with her to ignore
how he kept sneaking out, but even his bright, bubbly sister had her limits.
She would confront him when he returned, persistent in asking why he kept
leaving. Dipper would either dodge the question or not answer at all.
The pang in his chest worsened considerably.
Minutes spent with Bill turned into hours, and hours turned into the entire
night wasted laughing with the god and exploring the most unknown and desolate
parts of Gravity Falls. As much as it hurt him to see his sister in such woe,
his mind kept telling him it was worth it.
His journal filled and his mind occupied with many wonders and oddities. It was
all that he had ever wanted. And Bill had offered it to him on a silver
platter. As much as he didn’t want to forget all of the… strange things the god
had done, it was hard when he was constantly on his toes as to what their next
adventure would bring.
Dipper was beginning to grow attached to Bill, as much as it pained him to say
it.
Being ‘friends’, or whatever Bill would like to call it, was fine. Dipper
couldn’t fathom actually caring about the god whom had shown himself entirely
willing to murder innocent creatures (as innocent as a grindylow could get, of
course), and do a plethora of other questionable things. Was that what being
friends was all about? Caring for one another? Dipper wouldn’t know.
He stepped past another tree, gently running his hand over the bark. Just
there, in the distance, was the Mystery Shack. Dipper smiled. He didn’t think
he was capable of walking anymore considering the state of his body.
He took another step forward on weary legs. A deep breath, and then he was
sprinting towards his goal, rather desperate to get there as fast as he could.
Mabel and Stan would probably already be waiting there ready to kill him. Might
as well get the suffering over with as quickly as possible.
The Mystery Shack came closer into view, now only about a hundred yards away.
Dipper slowed down his pace but kept going in his beeline towards the large
gift-shop.
Then, nervousness started to kick in. If he thought he was panicking before now
it was something entirely different. He could hear his heart beating, the
slight shift of his breath as he processed everything. Dipper swallowed. He had
been gone the entire night. What would his family say in regards to that?
Nothing good, he imagined. Mabel would cross her arms and guilt him for
sneaking out so often and Stan would probably shift around awkwardly before
yelling at him for being late to work. He couldn’t help but to release a bitter
chuckle at that. His jaw clenched with a sour blend of anger and nerves.
The Shack stood tall in front of him, shadow looming over the trees ominously.
He stayed close to the wall and skirted over to the front. The door was in his
reach. Dipper stepped forward cautiously, up the stairs, reaching out a hand to
grasp the doorknob.
Someone got to it before him.
Instinctively, he shied away. Mabel’s smiling face appeared in front of him.
“Dip-Dop!” she yelled. “I’m gonna’ go hang out with Candy and Grenda! Do you
wanna’ come?”
If the confusion was clear on his face, Mabel didn’t make a comment on it. “But
I, um, I…” did she not even notice he was gone, or…?
“What, cat got your tongue?” she teased. “Have you been hanging out with your
girlfriend again?” the girl stepped forward, clenching her hand into a fist and
playfully hitting him in the shoulder. “Spit it out! Who’s the lucky lady?”
Dipper’s indignation grew and he spluttered, trying to come up with an answer
to her question. “There is no lucky lady!” he yelled. “There never has been!
Look, Mabel, I—”
She snorted and giggled. “Yeah, sure, sure. You’ve just been sneaking out at
night to go exploring. Alone. In the dark. That seems totally true.”
“Well it is!” Dipper yelled. He wondered why she hadn’t brought up the fact
that he was missing all night and morning. “I’m sorry for not being here in the
morning! I, um, I fell asleep, and then just didn’t wake up until…” he trailed
off.
Mabel tilted her head and looked at him strangely, as if she was the confused
one. “Dipper, what are you talking about?”
“Oh, um…” he began. He bit his lip. “Well, you know how I was missing this
entire morning, and all night?”
Her eyebrows furrowed in a quizzical look. “Dippin’ Dots are you feeling
alright? You were here this morning, eating breakfast with us. I don’t know
what you’re talking about.”
Dipper’s eyes widened. “What? I was? I mean—” he struggled to come up with
something to say at this sudden revelation. “Yeah, of course I remember! I’ve
just been a little out of it, you know?”
Mabel’s eyes narrowed, but eventually she shrugged and seemed to accept it.
“Yeah, whatever. We all have those days I guess. Anyway, I’m going to the mall,
so unless you want to come…”
“No,” he shook his head. “I’m fun. Have, um, have fun?”
Mabel smiled and bounded down the road leading to the town, parting ways with
Dipper with a wave goodbye.
Dipper swore under his breath when he knew that she was out of earshot. Why
didn’t he expect this? Bill was exactly the kind of person who would steal his
identity and then masquerade around as him.
Fists clenched, he pushed open the front door and walked into the Shack,
looking around to see who was there. Wendy lazed around idly by the counter,
while Soos was in the corner fixing one thing or another. Lunch break.
“Hey Dipper,” Soos greeted, waving a hand. Wendy looked up and her eyes went
wide. She glanced his body up and down and all of a sudden Dipper felt very
self-conscious.
“Dude,” she began, one eyebrow raised. “You look like you’ve been to Hell.”
Dipper didn’t doubt that in the slightest. “It’s been a rough day,” he
responded. He raised a hand to smooth back his hair and found a different
assortment of leaves and twigs inside. Unsurprising, considering he woke up in
a field. Surprising because what was Bill doing in the middle of the woods that
required him to get so dirty?
“Dipper, uh, maybe you shouldn’t be running around in the forest so much. It’s
fun to play with, but not to eat.” Soos suggested. Dipper sighed and shakily
smiled, disregarding the nonsensicalness of the statement.
Dipper walked over towards the back where the stairs leading to the second
floor were. “What, no lunch?” Wendy asked. “Or was that what you were just
doing?”
Dipper felt his stomach churn at the mention of lunch. “I’m not feeling that
hungry. I’m going to sleep.”
Wendy nodded her head, but kept her line of questioning going. “So, what did
you say to make Stan let you off the hook? Mabel said you got the whole day to
yourself.”
Oh, just promised to work overtime for the next week and a half,” Dipper
responded quickly. He wasn’t sure how he managed to come up with an excuse but
he did. After all, he still had no idea what in God’s name Bill had said to
Grunkle Stan. Must have been a very persuasive argument.
Wendy hummed and went back to whatever she was doing. Soos resumed tinkering
with the object in his hand.
Dipper smiled at them once more, and then plodded up the stairs, feet dragging
behind him.
Dipper opened the door to his and Mabel’s shared room, shuffling in with a
weary sigh. His limbs ached, his body was sore, and he wanted nothing more than
to fall into the comfort of sleep (thought he knew that at this point that was
highly unlikely, all things considered. Bill would either take control of his
body or do some other crazy thing to drive him further into madness. He felt
anger simmer within his heart).
He shut the door and it closed with a thud. Glancing at his reflection in the
mirror that hung lopsided from the wall he knew he looked as bad as he felt.
There were twigs and leaves in his hair, dirt smudged onto his cheeks. Dipper
grimaced at the sight.
The moment his head hit the pillow the world around him turned monochrome.
Dipper shot up, glancing around the room for any signs of the triangular (or
human shaped) god. “Bill,” he growled. “I want to talk to you. Right now.”
Silence permeated through the room. Then, breaking through suddenly, a voice
called out, “woah, watch it there Pine Tree. That’s a tone I’m not too fond
of.” It was behind him.
Dipper jumped and whipped around, meeting the sole eye of the god with malice.
“Bill! You—you can’t just—” the words died down in his throat. There was no
chance in Hell that Bill didn’t already know what he was talking about. He
could imagine that sly smirk already.
“What? Cruise around in your body? Sorry, kid, but that was all in the
fineprint.” Dipper was about to retort before Bill continued, “that you didn’t
look at.”
Dipper huffed, affronted by the god’s statement. “Well, you didn’t give me a
chance to look at it properly! You just shoved it in front of my face and told
me to sign.”
Bill let out a considerate mumble. “True. But it was there for a total of five
minutes before you actually did anything. Plenty of time to read, if you ask
me.”
Dipper’s turned around once more, crossing his arms over his chest. “I hate
you,” he grumbled. Bill floated towards the window and then to the front of his
bed. His glowing form created an odd light that Dipper had to adjust to because
of its closeness.
“And people say I have no grace! That’s awfully rude of you, Pine Tree, saying
you hate me like that. I would be offended if I didn’t know that you were
lying.”
“It’s not a lie!” he shouted exasperatedly. “If anything, you’re the one that
has been lying to me! Every time I think that I can trust you, you go around
and be… you.” Dipper waved his arms in the air, before pointing to him in
accusation. “Possessing my body,” Bill hummed in acknowledgment. “Pretending to
be me in front of my friends and my family. Having breakfast with them.”
“Fair point.”
“And for what?” he continued. “You don’t even put anything useful into this
journal! Just rants about pixies and gnomes and how dumb they are. For someone
with supposedly infinite knowledge you sure know how to give me useless
information.
Bill looked at him incredulously. “Wow, kid. The sleep deprivation must really
be getting to you.” Dipper stared confused, before there was a sudden shift in
scene and he felt his stomach roll.
They were in the library study now. Dipper hadn’t noticed Bill grabbing it, but
the god held the journal in the air next to him, glowing blue with magic. “Um,
Bill, what are we doing here?”
“You’ll see,” he responded simply. He scanned the shelves of books with his
eye, seemingly looking for something. Dipper wasn’t sure whether to be
frightened or not because his cryptic response didn’t reveal any inherently
insidious plotting. However with Bill one could never be sure if their life was
in any immediate danger. Dipper just waited patiently and hoped for the best.
A book popped out from the the shelve, and then moments later, another one.
Bill turned to face him before tossing him the journal. Dipper caught it,
staggering because of its weight. Sure, he was used to carrying it around but
that didn’t mean that it wasn’t hard to do so.
He peered up at Bill, holding the journal awkwardly in his hands and unsure
what to do with it. It opened with a flutter of pages. Instinctively Dipper
drew back, looking at it wearily as it moved with a mind of its own. “Bill—” he
started, but was silenced by a wave of the god’s hand.
Bill floated closer as he stepped back. “See, right…” the pages stopped their
rapid motions. “Here.” A black finger landed on text that had been scrawled
onto the parchment. It was not his handwriting. In fact, he didn’t remember
ever seeing it before.
If he looked confused Bill didn’t mention it, only tapping the lettering twice
and resuming. “Not any language you’re familiar with?” upon further inspection,
no, that was indeed not English. Dipper shook his head. “Exactly, Pine Tree.”
One of the books floated over and opened. Bill motioned back and forth between
the two of them. “Notice any similarities? Of course you do!” he did. The
language in his journal was the same as the one in the books.
“A cipher?” Dipper asked. Next to the writing in the unknown language were
letters of the English alphabet. A translation page. Why hadn’t he taken note
of this before?
“Yes. As you can see, I’ve been quite busy, Pine Tree.” Bill let out a grating
laugh. “And that’s not the only page. There’s plenty of others that you’ve
missed. Oh, man. Maybe I really should lay off on the possession! It seems like
your mind has been getting slower. But not slow enough to not suspect me,
apparently.”
Dipper blushed from the needling embarrassment that had begun to work its way
into him. So he just wrongly accused his best friend at the moment. Great.
“Sorry!” he apologized, voice cracking. “But that still doesn’t mean you’re off
the hook for parading around as me.”
“Well I had to cover for you somehow, didn’t I?” Bill countered. “If I just
left all night and didn’t show your face then your family really would think
you were missing. Which would be a huge loss for both me, and you.”
“Okay, but…” Dipper placed a hand on his forehead. “Can you just tell me next
time? Dude, you’re getting me all worked up over nothing. And it’s hard to cope
especially considering that literally this has all happened in under one week.”
“I understand, Pine Tree. It can be a lot to take in. But think of the rewards!
All this knowledge at your fingertips. Don’t you want it all? Because you can
have it.”
“As long as it doesn’t involve more shady deals,” Dipper quipped.
Bill chuckled lowly. “Of course not. That was only because I forgot to add some
stuff in the original contract.”
Dipper felt his eyebrow raise of its own accord. “I’m 99% sure that was because
you didn’t want to scare me when we originally made the deal. Going from ‘I’ll
give you information’ to ‘I’ll possess your body while you sleep and give you
information’ is one big step.” He glanced down at the journal in his hands.
“One big step that I would probably be unwilling to take.”
“Probably.” Bill agreed.
One of the books that Bill had been holding floated over to him and he knew
that it was a signal for him to take it. Dipper grabbed it, of course, but
frowned. “So far, we’ve only been hanging out here in my dreams. Which is nice,
but…”
“When will you get to be in here in real life?” Bill offered. Dipper nodded,
placing the book down on the nearby study desk.
“Soon. Soon, I promise.” The god finished.
“Really?” Dipper asked. He didn’t want to offend Bill by being disbelieving of
him, but at the same time he wanted some sort of confirmation.
“Pinky promise,” Bill said cheekily. Dipper couldn’t help to smile as he
extended a pinky. Bill’s own little finger wrapped around his and they shook up
and down; it was a promise.
“Good,” Dipper gave a curt nod. “I’ll be angry if you violate that.”
“Kid, you’ll be angry no matter what I do,” Bill quipped. If it were any other
day Dipper might have come up with a sly retort to shoot back at him but he
couldn’t be bothered. He just rolled his eyes and went back to staring at his
journal.
He blinked up at the ceiling.
The world had returned to its colorful state, and with a groan Dipper sat up,
limbs protesting with pain. He was awake. And it didn’t seem like that rest had
done him much good, considering that he hurt worse now than before. On the plus
side it didn’t seem like Bill had gone around in his body since he was in the
same position that he had been in when he fell into his slumber.
He looked around the room, bringing up a hand to rub the sleep from his eyes.
Mabel wasn’t there, which meant that she was either downstairs, or she was
still hanging out with her friends. He glanced at the alarm clock resting on
the bedside table. It had been about thirty minutes in total. Which meant there
was still another thirty minutes to go before lunch break ended. Idly, he
wondered what Bill had said to convince Grunkle Stan to let him off the hook
for the day.
He shifted his body and hopped off of the bed. His legs shook from the effort
it took. It felt like he run a marathon, and to be honest there was the
possibility that he had considering he had no idea what Bill could be doing
with his body while he was asleep.
Dipper took a step forward. And then another. He rubbed at his eyes again and
then reached for the doorknob. His hand rested there for a brief moment, as he
weighed the pros and cons of actually leaving the room.
Sleep was tempting. Sleep was really tempting. It hurt just thinking about
having to do anything.
But the realization struck him that Stan had let him (technically Bill) off of
work for the day. This would likely be the only day of the week where he could
freely do as he wished. There was the library, the park, all of Gravity Falls
at his disposal. Better that he left now instead of potentially facing Grunkle
Stan and having the older man change his mind about his freedom.
So he opened the door.
It was a real effort to get down the stairs, and it was even harder of an
effort to explain to Wendy and Soos where he was going, because truth be told
he didn’t know. There was no plan in walking out of the Shack, nor was there a
plan when he walked out into the woods. He just knew that he had to.
It was a bad idea; in the real world Bill held no dominion and couldn’t prevent
anything from attacking him. It would be Dipper and his survival skills alone.
But still, the forest beckoned him, and Dipper found himself following its
call.
The pre-teen carefully stepped over the line which marked the forest boundary.
Almost instantly he could feel Bill’s presence in the back of his mind,
prodding him forward. Dipper acquiesced.
The trees were tall around him, pine trees, of course; their large shapes cast
shadows over the landscape, and Dipper not for the first time found himself
afraid of the overwhelming presence. He was glad it was day time.
There was a rustling from the bush beside him. Leaves fluttered to the ground
and Dipper could only turn around to face his latest intruder.
A wolf (more like beast, from his first encounter with them) growled, and
stalked out from the shrubbage, looking at Dipper hungrily. It licked its lips,
sharp canines on full display.
On instinct Dipper backed away from the predator, eyes turning into saucers as
memories of a moonlight night returned to the forefront of his mind.
He darted through the forest, backpack now long forgotten back at the oak tree
he had used as a resting spot. In one hand, he was carrying a flashlight,
trying his best to make it illuminate his pathway; in the other hand was his
journal, feeling heavier than usual and seeming to exhaust him more with every
hurried step away from his pursuers.
Those, those things that had chased him, that had cast such fear in his heart.
He had imagined that they were wolves, but now, in the daylight, they seemed to
be so much more than that. Dipper’s vision went blurry for a moment as he
teetered on the line between consciousness and unconsciousness. Not now. He
couldn’t handle a chase now of all times.
Dipper ran, the creatures followed. He tripped over a protruding root, and they
gained on him. Soon enough, fatigue creeped into his veins and caused desperate
gasps of breath to leave his lips. A sense of dread filled him to his very
core. He wanted to stop, but that met his inevitable death. There was not a
doubt in his mind that he would be killed and devoured by the things chasing
after him.
But the beast in front of him did not pounce on him. It did not move a muscle
as it stared at him, blankly. Dipper was unsure what it was trying to convey.
Unease made his gaze dart from side to side, but he quickly met it stare again.
He didn’t want to take his eyes off of the creature.
He considered running, but the thought was gone almost as quickly as it came;
that would serve no purpose other than to agitate it; it was a faster runner
than he, after all. And agitating what could quite possibly be the face of
Death was not a good idea (though Dipper supposed that at this point he had
long since killed his sense of reasoning).
Brown met bright yellow and all of a sudden Dipper was acutely aware of the
color of those eyes.
Familiar. He recalled a grinning face with sharp teeth and blonde hair and eyes
that were—
“Bill?” the question spilled forth from his lips before he could stop it. A
deeper, more self-loathing part of himself said that it was stupid to even
consider the possibility that whatever this thing was was Bill Cipher. Or,
Dipper didn’t know, was being possessed by Bill Cipher?
The wolf (he settled on calling it that) growled low in his throat and Dipper
was about to take that as a no before its lips curled and its fangs drew back
in what could only be considered a smile.
Dipper was unsure whether to take that as a yes or a no. He stilled, not
running, but made no move to draw closer. By now it wasn’t attacking which must
have been a good sign.
Then, it began to trot over. Dipper immediately let out a shriek and backed
away until he met the tree behind him. One of his hands instinctively moved to
cover his front, and he reached out, hoping to at least ward the thing off.
“Oh, um, oh God…” he gulped. He tried to steel himself in preparation for any
oncoming pain. The wolf had the potential to do plenty of very nasty things to
him, and he would prefer that it didn’t sink its teeth into the meat of his
thigh. And also prefered that it didn’t make any attempts to eat him. That too.
It got uncomfortably close to his hand and Dipper considered pulling it away
before it gently bumped the top of its head to his palm.
Okay, this was approaching some very strange and uncharted territories.
“Bill?” he asked, once more. It looked up at him, before blinking its eyes
slowly. What did that mean? “Uh, Bill?” Dipper tried again.
The wolf yipped and he jumped about a foot in the air, not expecting the sudden
and harsh sound. He decided to take that as a hesitant yes.
“Uh…” he was unsure where to even begin. Maybe this was all a coincidence, and
this was simply one way-too-friendly wolf? Or this was actually Bill and not a
joke. Was there even an in-between option?
It moved away from him, and Dipper clutched his hand to his chest, looking at
it warily. A few feet away it stopped dead in its tracks. Then, it turned its
head slowly to meet his gaze. Dipper blinked. It made a motion as if to imply
that he should follow. Very hesitantly, he moved forward.
It didn’t try to attack him. He kept moving.
The wolf led him away from the clearing of trees he was in. Dipper, albeit
shaking like a leaf, followed. This definitely ranked within his top ten most
stupid ideas.
Firstly, he didn’t know if this thing was actually Bill or not (it sounded more
and more stupid every time he said it in his head). Secondly, even if it was
Bill it still had the potential to rip his arm off. Thirdly, he was so tired he
could collapse.
But he kept walking.
Dipper stepped over a twig, and then darted through a pile of leaves. He worked
his way around thick foliage and despite the fact that he was a few seconds
from passing out he was resolute in seeing where the creature was taking him.
“Bill?” he asked again. The wolf didn’t pause in its leisurely walk throughout
the forest. “Bill, I swear if this is you this is one of the worst pranks you
have ever pulled.” It growled at him and Dipper shut up immediately.
Their casual (if it could be called that) stroll continued on for what seemed
to be hours before they finally came to what apparently was the wolf’s target
location.
A sense of familiarity welled inside of him.
It was the same place in his dreams, the place that Bill had taken him, the
place he had woken up in to find a dead grindylow, frightened and confused. A
crystal clear lake surrounded by tall pine trees, shadows casting a dark
curtain over the landscape. “This is…” he began. His gaze wandered to the spot
where he knew, suspected, more like, the door leading to the study to be.
Bill hadsaid that he would show him how to get there soon.
Dipper walked over and crouched down by the waterside, dragging a hand through
the water to test the temperature. Lukewarm. Odd for a place that was
surrounding by such large trees, sunlight barely able to enter save for the few
cracks between the branches and leaves.
There it was—the door. Resting just underneath the currents of water. He knew
what lay underneath it, knew every inch of that room. Over the last week he
would say he had been there more than he had been in the Shack (even if it was
only in his dreams).
He glanced over to the wolf. It merely stood there looking over the terrain.
Dipper followed its gaze to an small area covered in tiny rocks, bathed in what
little sunlight was able to filter in. However, one rock stood out among the
others: large, red, and seemingly important from the way the wolf (Bill. He
would just call it Bill now) stared intently at it.
“What is that?” he asked, lifting a finger to point at it. Bill barely payed
him mind. Dipper frowned. Instead, the god walked briskly over towards the
rock, before placing a paw on it.
A great groaning noise came from the ground underneath his feet, and Dipper
jumped back in surprise. Slowly, methodically, the waves parted, rolling over
to the sandy coastline and staying put.
Bill went circled around and came over to where Dipper was standing. He backed
up but watched to see what he would do.
Bill sat down in the sand, next to the trapdoor. He looked at Dipper
expectantly.
The pre-teen made his way over, feet sinking into the sand. It made a mess of
his shoes, since the water was seeping into his socks, but he could ignore
that. He had plenty of other clothes back at home.
Bill gestured towards the door handle using his snout, and Dipper reached out
with a shaky hand to grab it. Once again he felt that same sense of dread. The
last time he was here in person hadn’t been that pleasant of an experience and
he had no desire to repeat that experience.
Dipper glanced from side to side, looking at the large mounds of water warily.
Again he felt as though they might collapse on top of them at any moment.
Pushing the thought from his head, he opened the hatch and sat down, legs
falling into the open hole. He looked down, peering at the ladder. Quickly he
put his feet on one of the top rungs and turned his body around, finding
himself face-to-face with Bill. He looked away almost immediately, unable to
keep his gaze locked onto those yellow orbs for long.
“Thank you,” he whispered. Bill smiled again, fangs flashing. He let out a
snort and promptly turned on his heel. Before Dipper could so much as blink he
was gone.
Dipper slipped inside and closed the hatch above him. He heard water splash
against the wood of the door.
At least he had a way in now.
Chapter End Notes
     Yup. Boring. I know. I apologize but I couldn't figure out any ways
     to spice this up. Forgive me please.
     Unfortunately I'll have to inform you that I need to take a break.
     Not a long one, don't worry. Only a month. Chapter 4 will be released
     on April 1st instead of March 1st as was initially planned (and
     things will start to get interesting; don't worry!). And I promise
     you that it will have 12,000 words to make up for this chapter.
     Why I need the break? Well, there are a lot of reasons.
     This fic has drained me emotionally and psychically. The last week
     has been stressful since 90% of this was written within the such a
     short time span. Of all the chapters I was looking forward to writing
     this one the least because I didn't have much planned. I've stayed up
     until early hours in the morning and have dealt with some personal
     issues so forcing myself to write didn't help much. So for the sake
     of my mental health and a better quality chapter for next time, I
     need this. Thank you for understanding.
     I'll see you in two months! :)
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