Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7683892.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, 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, Jesus_"Soos"
      Alzamirano_Ramirez
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Romance, Dark, Human!Bill, Demon!Bill, Smut, Masturbation
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-05 Updated: 2016-09-27 Chapters: 5/15 Words: 11024
****** Sleepless Nights & Sweet Nothings ******
by shootingstarcipher
Summary
     When reality is invaded with creatures of indescribable yet
     undeniable horror and power that even Ford doesn’t know how to
     eliminate, the only one Dipper has to turn to for help is the very
     same demon that got him into that mess in the first place.
***** Little Whispers *****
It was meant to be over. Bill Cipher was dead, or at least gone. The only thing
anyone was sure of was that he wasn’t coming back, and yet he kept turning up
in Dipper’s dreams to haunt him and he couldn’t tell whether his own mind was
dragging him back up again or if the demon was actually invading his dreams
like he used to. He hoped it was the former. Ford promised him that it was.
He awoke as darkness fell, as he always had ever since he and the rest of his
family had managed to bring the apocalypse to an end, and shook Mabel awake as
well. She hated it and swiped at him in attempt to convince him to leave her
alone for a few more minutes, but it was for her own good. For most of the
town’s inhabitants, sleeping at the coming of dawn and waking at the fall of
dusk was now the norm. It had started shortly after Bill Cipher’s defeat, when
some of the residents began to notice worryingly strange happenings occurring
only after sunset.
Ford had been amongst the first to notice. Dipper, Stan and Mabel had soon
followed. They’d discussed their findings together as a family, during which
Dipper had detected hints of anxiety in Ford’s otherwise calm composure, only
serving to bring stress and nervousness to his own mind. Within only a couple
of days, Ford had been able to explain what was going on - albeit not fully. He
was aware of what was happening - that their world had been invaded by
nightmarish creatures that took the form of shadows and stole the life from
every living thing they touched - but not of the details surrounding the
invasion. He was able to deduce that the invasion had begun as Weirdmaggedon
came to a close, but not how the creatures had broken through to their world.
When people started noticing the shadows moving when they shouldn’t have been
able to, Dipper spent days rifling through all three journals - or rather, the
copies Grunkle Stan had created as opposed to the originals, as those had been
turned to ashes during Weirdmaggedon - searching for any mention of creatures
that took the form of darkness, but to no avail. Ford had never come across
them before. Neither had anyone else they’d spoken to.
Ever since the realisation that the darkness now held a serious threat,
everyone who lived in the quiet yet admittedly strange town of Gravity Falls
had decided to become nocturnal: sleeping safely during the day and staying
awake at night when they were able to protect themselves. It was tiresome and
difficult to get used to, but as long as each of them kept a torch with them at
all times, the system seemed to be working.
At first, most of them had simply decided to sleep with the light on every
night, thinking that the darkness wouldn’t be able to touch them. They were
wrong. The shadows somehow managed to find ways of reaching them, because
everything cast a shadow. That was why they’d had to resort to such
unconventional and extreme means of keeping themselves safe.
Nearly every night was the same. They couldn’t do the things they used to do,
and leading normal lives was the last thing on Dipper’s mind at the time.
Unlike Mabel, he wasn’t worried about their birthday or going back to school.
He did, however, worry about going home. There was no telling how many of these
so-called shadow demons had escaped into their world or how far spread out they
were. They may have been contained by the same barrier that had kept Bill and
his associates trapped inside Gravity Falls. On the other hand, they might have
been able to take over numerous other towns already. It was all pure
speculation.
With his torch in one hand, he grabbed Mabel by the wrist and dragged her
downstairs in her half-comatose state. She, too, had a torch in her hand, but
dropped it a few times on her way to the kitchen. The lights were all switched
on but they still kept their torches close by as they ate, just in case. So
far, Dipper had only needed to use it a handful of times. It didn’t seem as if
the shadow demons - as they were being referred to - were particularly
powerful, though they were certainly not to be ignored. Their danger was real.
They had made that clear through the murder of several of the town’s residents.
Dipper had considered speaking to Bill about them during one of his dreams and
he was thinking about it again as he ate his breakfast. He brought it up to
Mabel, who immediately pointed out to him that Bill Cipher was probably dead.
“He isn’t coming back,” she told him, her face breaking into a grin. “Ford said
so.” He wanted to agree but every day he dreamed of him, a tiny bit of doubt
leaked into his mind, eventually building up into the belief that Bill might
still have been out there somewhere.
“But I keep dreaming about him,” he argued, hoping to convince at least one
other person that the demon was still alive, even if not completely. “He might
be able to help. If he knows about them…”
Mabel cut him off. “Dipper, Bill’s dead,” she repeated, rolling her eyes at
him. “And anyway, even if he is still alive, do you really think he’d help us?
We’re the ones that killed him! Or, I guess, not if he is alive, but we still
tried to!” For once, Mabel was making a rational argument and her brother
refused to agree with her in spite of the fact that it undeniably made sense.
He wouldn’t help them, even if he could. But Dipper was determined to try.
Leaving half of his breakfast untouched, he pushed his chair back away from the
table, muttered something about going to see Grunkle Ford, grabbed hold of his
torch and walked off, heading in the direction of the basement. Before the
arrival of the shadow demons, he’d never seen the basement so bright. Nowadays
it was normal for the lights to all be switched on at once. Ford was working -
as he always was - and sat at his desk with his head bent over one something as
he studied it.
Knocking on the door as he opened it, Dipper let himself in. “Uh, Grunkle
Ford,” he stammered, drawing his uncle’s attention. “I need to talk to you
about Bill.” He gripped the torch in his hand tighter even though he hadn’t
seen anything to suggest he might need it. It was just comforting. He knew Ford
didn’t like speaking about the demon - he believed Bill was in the past and
that he should stay that way, or at least he liked to believe it - but he
couldn’t fight the feeling that he needed to be discussed.
“Come in and sit down,” Ford told him, sounding stern yet somehow
simultaneously gentle. He pulled over a spare seat to his desk and Dipper sat
down beside him, holding onto his torch with more force than ever. “You don’t
need to worry about Bill anymore. I’ve told you - he’s gone. You saw it happen
with your own eyes.”
Dipper nodded to show his understanding, but protested nonetheless. “But I keep
seeing him in my dreams. I don’t think he’d really gone and anyway, I think he
could help us.” His uncle frowned at him and he shied away from his discerning
gaze. “If anyone knows what those creatures are, it’s Bill Cipher,” he
insisted, though much quieter than before now that Ford’s disagreement was
clear. “I could talk to him. He’s been coming to see me.”
“And I don’t suppose Mabel has seen him too, has she?” Dipper shook his head in
reply. “He hasn’t been to see me either. And I don’t think he’s been to see
you, Dipper, because he’s dead. He’s never coming to torment any of us ever
again. Your mind is creating him in your sleep, probably because you’re
spending so much time thinking about him during the day. Just forget about
him.”
He’d tried. All Dipper really wanted to do was forget about Bill Cipher. But
he’d already come to terms with the fact that it was never going to happen.
Bill was a part of his life he’d never forget and possibly one that he needed
to hold onto. He sighed, knowing that Ford wasn’t going to come around to his
way of thinking at least until he had definitive proof of the demon’s continued
existence, and returned to the kitchen where Mabel was still sitting. Grunkle
Stan had joined her and the two of them were arguing over who should finish
Dipper’s breakfast.
“He didn’t agree with you, did he?” Mabel asked, noticing the dejected look on
her twin brother’s face. That was her mistake. Stan grabbed Dipper’s plate
while he had the chance and slid its contents onto his own before placing it
back down in front of Mabel and grinning mischievously at her. She groaned in
response but otherwise ignored him.
“He didn’t even entertain the idea,” Dipper replied, shaking his head gloomily.
“I’m going back upstairs. If anybody needs me, I’ll be…”
He was cut off by his sister’s incessant rambling. “You’ll be moping around in
the attic while obsessively reading through every single page of each and every
journal - especially Bill’s pages - and stopping every few seconds to make sure
none of the shadows in the room are moving on their own.” Dipper groaned
because she had his plan down to a tee, nodded and went back up to the attic.
But his plan didn’t go as well as he’d hoped. The moment he started to read
through his copies of the journals, a quiet little whisper coming from inside
his own head interrupted him. He couldn’t hear what it said, or even if it was
speaking in a language he understood, but it was enough to both distract and
intrigue him. But he eventually managed to disregard it as nothing but a trick
of the mind and he glanced around the room - with one had gripping his torch
tightly - before continuing reading through the pages he had laid out on his
bed.
“Don’t ignore me, Pine Tree.” This time the whisper inside his mind was much
clearer. And it was obvious who it was. There was only one being that used that
particular name - one Ford had assured him was gone forever. “Ignore that uncle
of yours, not me.”
“Bill?” He said it out loud, only half-hoping for a response. Although he’d
been eager for proof of Bill’s existence and hopeful that the demon would be
able (and willing) to help them combat the monsters that now ruled the shadows,
the sound of Bill’s voice was bring his feelings of fear and dread and despair
flooding back - and even a hint of hatred.
“You know it’s me, kid. You’re the only one who knows I’m still here. Nobody
else believes.” He sounded almost sad when he said that, but Dipper ignored it
and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand: whether or not to ask Bill for
help. “I’m inside your head, remember, Pine Tree? And you know what that means.
I’m reading your thoughts this very second,” the demon reminded him and he
cursed his own stupidity.
He didn’t quite know what to do. But he knew Bill was aware of his distress and
confusion, what with existing inside his mind at the time, and so he needed to
make a decision immediately. Taking a deep breath, he spoke up again, breaking
the silence the demon had left him with. “How did you survive?” They both knew
this wasn’t what he really wanted to talk about and Bill appeared to have no
intention to humour him.
“That’s not what you wanted to ask and you know it. Go on then kid, ask about
the uh, shadow demons… as you call them,” he laughed. “Good name, I must
admit.”
Dipper scowled and glanced around at the darker areas of the room to check for
any signs of the dangerous, darkness-inhabiting creatures before responding.
“Fine. Can you help? Do you know about them?”
That set Bill off laughing at him again. “Of course I do. But you know me, Pine
Tree - I’ll never do anything without getting something in return.” This was
something Dipper hadn’t yet considered: even if the demon could help him and
was willing to do so, he never did anything for free. He asked what he wanted
in return and the only response he received was that he’d have to think about
it. “I’ll meet you later in the dreamscape. Bye for now, kid!”
Then he was gone. Occasionally, afterwards, Dipper tried to speak with him
again but no-one replied. It made him feel oddly lonely. Mabel had Stan to talk
to, neither Soos nor Wendy was around and Ford was being unusually cold to him
probably due to a combination of stress and frustration about him repeatedly
mentioning Bill Cipher. He longed to leave the Mystery Shack but the outside
world was too dangerous now. Becoming nocturnal had been a stupid idea, he
thought, because the shadow demons ruled the night and would kill whoever dared
leave the comfort of their own home after dark. Still, they’d slip into their
homes and murder them in their sleep if they slept during the night.
And so instead of foolishly leaving the Mystery Shack, he stayed indoors and
carried on reading his copies of the journals, hoping to find something new.
Unsurprisingly, nothing struck him as particularly important and he tidied up
the papers scattered over his bed feeling isolated and disappointed. Mabel came
up the stairs and interrupted him, distracting him from his loneliness for a
while.
“Missing Wendy?” she asked, shining her torch at a shadow that hadn’t even
moved and grinning. Her brother rolled his eyes but smiled, glad that at least
one of them was enjoying themselves. He had a lot to think about and it was
taking his concentration away from protecting himself and Mabel from the
shadows, so it was a good job she was happy to stay on top of things for the
both of them. He nodded in reply and groaned, though he hadn’t been thinking
about Wendy for the past few days because he was so focused on Bill.
Mabel stayed with him for a few hours and kept him company, although the two of
them barely said anything to one another. He kept quiet about Bill, wanting to
have more information before he mentioned him to anyone again, though a tiny
voice at the back of his mind - that wasn’t Bill this time - suggested he
should tell Ford about their encounter. He shook his head, trying to free
himself from those thoughts and glanced up at the triangular window between his
and Mabel’s bed. It was nearly sunrise.
He sighed dejectedly. The nights were so short because of the season and he had
to spend all his time cooped up inside. Only Stan went outside now and that was
only once a week to find food. The shops were all closed and so was the Mystery
Shack, which meant that Soos and Wendy had no reason to be there, hence he
hadn’t seen either of them since Weirdmaggedon. This was no life. This was
simply an existence - and not a very good one at that.
He was beginning to think that this must have been what life was like for Ford
during the thirty years he was stuck in between worlds in the portal, but then
he changed his mind when a whisper told him that this was what it was like for
Bill.
***** Love Me *****
Just as he’d said he would, Bill met with him in the dreamscape. The
familiarity of feeling his mind being invaded once again was strangely
soothing. It was difficult to tell they were in the dreamscape, however, seeing
as they were inside the attic of the Mystery Shack and nothing particularly
unusual was going on, though a couple of things did stand out. Firstly, Mabel
wasn’t in her bed and secondly, the room was dark and one glance out of the
window showed it was before sunrise, the sky being a vast expanse of black
littered with tiny silver stars.
Dipper was lying in bed and gazing out of the window to study the darkened sky,
drinking in the beauty and wishing he could do the same every night instead of
fearing for his life, when the demon appeared at the foot of his bed. When the
sound of the demon’s voice alerted him to his presence, he twisted round to
face him. He didn’t know whether to smile or cry. Bill seemed to be who he
needed at that moment, but that didn’t feel right. The Bill Cipher he knew and
despised was dangerous and untrustworthy. Believing he would be the answer to
his problems could - and probably would - prove to be a fatal mistake, but he
didn’t feel he had a choice.
“Having second thoughts, Pine Tree?” the demon teased, his eye glowing with
mischief. Dipper shook his head but his trembling body and vacant gaze betrayed
him. “You know you need me, kid. I’m your only hope. You said that yourself -
well, you thought it.” He was right. Dipper couldn’t argue back because
everything he was saying was true.
“Fine,” he growled softly, unsure of whether to be grateful for the demon’s
help or not. “Just tell me what you want.” He bowed his head - hoping Bill
wouldn’t take it as a sign of respect - and scowled down at his mattress.
He heard the demon chuckle in cruel delight at his distress and confusion and
he glared up at him angrily. “Oh kid, what I really want is for you to love me.
Can you do that for me, Pine Tree?” Dipper’s anger suddenly melted back into
perplexity but his glare still intensified, aware that the demon knew full well
what he was doing to him. Messing with his emotions seemed to Bill’s favourite
pastime. “I know, I know. But you can’t hate me that much. If you did, I
wouldn’t be here.” He paused for a moment before his voice echoed off the walls
again. “Just try for me, kid. Just try.”
At first he thought he was joking and he scoffed at his request in response,
but then a blue flame manifested in the demon’s left palm and he realised he
was being serious. He considered it only for a second before deciding that if
he didn’t do this, he’d be damning himself and those he cared about to a
fearful life with dark, all-consuming shadows cast over it - a life that was
really just an existence. He couldn’t do that to Mabel, or Wendy, or anyone
else he cared for. And so he stood up slowly from his bed, took a few tiny
steps towards the demon and - with a heavy heart - he shook his hand, ignoring
the burst of pain that came with forcing his hand through a fiery torrent.
He would try. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to make himself love the demon
- it was difficult to find a reason to even like him - but he would try, not
for Bill, but for everyone whose lives depended on it.
The last thing he heard was Bill’s laughter - not cruel, not malicious, but
genuine laughter at something other than another’s pain and suffering. And when
he woke up again he wasn’t screaming or sweating or frightened at all.
Everything seemed alarmingly peaceful. It wasn’t right. Sunlight shone through
the window, disrupting his vision, and he turned to smile at the sight of it,
knowing his chances of seeing it again would be few and far between. He wished
he could do the same every day. Occasionally - having not yet gotten used to
sleeping all through the day - he woke up early afternoon and enjoyed a few
short hours of sunlight, but he wouldn’t be able to do that for long. The
thought made him hate what his life was becoming.
He wondered where Bill had gone and how exactly he was going to help. Or even
if he could help. Or even if he really had any intention of trying. Perhaps it
depended on how well Dipper held up his end of the deal. That wouldn’t have
surprised him. It always seemed to be all about Bill.
Groaning, he pushed back the blanket, stood up and stretched his legs. Sleeping
so much was making him tired even when he was meant to be wide awake and it was
making his muscles ache even when he hadn’t used them. A noise coming from
downstairs made his ears prick up and his body stiffen in sudden panic. The
sound of a kitchen drawer slamming shut. It could have been Stan or Ford and
the realisation of this allowed him to relax slightly, but the footsteps that
followed were quieter than either of his uncles’.
Hesitantly, he grabbed hold of the torch he kept by his bed and crept down the
stairs. Whoever it was - or whatever it was - they were still in the kitchen,
and as he cautiously approached the door the sound of someone rifling through
the kitchen drawers grew louder. The harsh metallic screeches of knife blades
scraping against forks were enough to make his ears bleed. Before he set foot
in the kitchen, whoever it was seemed to be aware of his presence and addressed
him. The moment they spoke, he knew exactly who had invaded the Mystery Shack.
“Miss me, Pine Tree?” A fair-skinned, blond boy just a few inches taller than
he was appeared in the doorway, his long thin fingers gripping the wooden
handle of a kitchen knife. His clothes were smart and elegant but old-
fashioned. His eyes were the strange yet captivating colour of pure gold,
though one was completely hidden away by his wavy blond hair. The tip of the
knife was dowsed in thick, red blood and that’s when Dipper noticed the gash on
the boy’s right hand. He was too stunned to react quickly and the boy was
clearly getting bored with him. “Are you just gonna stand there all day, kid?”
he snapped, bringing the knife up to study it and licking his lips.
“Bill?” He couldn’t help his confusion, though the boy chastised him for it.
“Is it really you?”
The blond boy rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s me, kid. Who else would ever
dare use that nickname?”
Dipper didn’t have an answer for that so kept his mouth shut. As he lowered his
gaze and scanned the demon’s humanoid body, he saw the blood from his hand
dripping onto the floor and his heart slammed inside his chest for more reason
than one. Firstly, because of his family’s reaction if they found bloodstains
all over the house. The other reason was something he couldn’t quite put his
finger on. He didn’t understand the way he felt about it and he wasn’t sure he
wanted to - besides, there were so many things he didn’t understand, so what
was one more?
Pushing his confusion aside, he marched into the kitchen and grabbed a cloth
from under the sink, turned the tap on and dampened it. Bill followed him
aimlessly, his new body swaying slightly as he struggled to control it, and sat
down on one of the wooden chairs to keep himself from falling over. He was
about to ask how humans managed to move about so easily when Dipper suddenly
kneeled on the floor in front of him and grabbed his injured hand, the feel of
his soft skin taking him by surprise. He glared at him when he started cleaning
the cut on his hand and told him to stop because he liked it the way it was,
but the human was having none of it.
“You’re getting blood all over the floor,” Dipper pointed out, taking the knife
out of his other hand and wiping the blood off that as well. Then he moved onto
the floor and the demon watched him closely, studying the human’s every move.
Once he was finished, he ran the cloth under the tap to rinse the blood off but
failed to get every drop out of the fabric, leaving it with a reddish tinge. He
sniffed at it indignantly, but it would have to do.
He turned back to Bill and found that he was being stared at. An almost evil
grin was carved into the demon’s otherwise handsome face and his golden irises
seemed to be lit up with delight. Approaching him more carefully than he had
done before, Dipper sat down in the chair opposite him, unnerved by the way the
demon’s gaze followed him across the room.
He didn’t know what was going on and he didn’t like it at all. Bill didn’t need
a physical form to help rid the world of the monsters that had invaded it, and
even if he did, why not just use his again? He would have agreed to it if he
was sure it was necessary. And that begged the question: whose body was he
using?
It became clear a few seconds after he’d asked himself the question that Bill
had retained the powers he usually had when possessing the body he was now
using. “It’s my body, kid. Can’t tell you the details - client confidentiality
and all that - but it is mine. I had it made.” He leaned back in his seat,
smirking, and snatched the knife up from the table to inspect it. After
twirling it in his hands for a minute or so, he pressed it against the palm of
his hand and, realising he was about to make another cut, Dipper’s eyes widened
in alarm, the look in his eyes causing the demon to stop and study his face.
With a heavy, somewhat agitated sigh, Bill put the knife back down but kept his
gaze fixed on it, his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip again. “Listen
Pine Tree, I’m going to need a place to stay while I’m here…” He didn’t get to
finish.
“But you don’t need to be here,” Dipper interrupted him. The flash of anger
that crossed the demon’s face made him instantly regret it.
“Yes, I do,” Bill asserted. “You wouldn’t understand, Pine Tree.” He stood up
from his seat and staggered over to the door, leaving Dipper to trail after
him. He followed him up the stairs to the attic and finally found him perched
on the edge of his bed, flicking through the copies of his uncle’s journals
he’d kept. His initial reaction was to lunge at him and the papers from him,
but he convinced himself not to make such rash, careless decisions without
thinking them through virtually instantaneously. He needed Bill to be on his
side and wrestling him to the ground was not the way to do that.
Dropping the papers onto the floor, causing them to scatter everywhere, the
demon lay back on the bed and sighed dismissively. Dipper glanced nervously at
the window and stifled a yawn. He was tired, but how could he sleep with a
demon in his room? And what’s more, with a demon on his bed?
Bill must have been reading his mind a grin. With a wicked grin etched into his
face, he slipped out of the bed and gestured for Dipper to climb back into it.
Leaving his suspicions behind, Dipper returned to his bed - sent a worried
glance in his sister’s direction - and pulled the blanket over him. Just as he
settled down, a knock on the front door of the Mystery Shack startled him.
The grin vanished from Bill’s face and he murmured something incoherent under
her breath. “That’d be Red,” he muttered when they heard the knock again.
Throwing himself out of bed, Dipper ran passed him and rushed down the stairs,
heading in the direction of the front door. They didn’t get visitors anymore
and it had been too long since he’d seen any of his friends, especially Wendy.
He wasn’t about to ignore her and make her think she’d been forgotten. But as
he stepped into the hallway, the demon appeared in front of him, blocking the
door.
“Forget about her!” he snarled, pressing his back against the door and
spreading out his arms to stop Dipper from getting passed him. “She’s not
important. You’re supposed to love me, remember? Not her!”
Stopping in his tracks, Dipper gritted his teeth and glared at him. He’d known
Bill to be selfish, but so selfish as to lock Wendy outside, presumably to wait
for her death? The shadow demons wouldn’t come until sundown, but that was just
a few hours away and if she didn’t get inside by then, her death would be
almost certain. Bill knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing. He always did.
During the time he was thinking, Bill stopped snarling. His face was now blank.
“Sorry,” he muttered reluctantly. “I guess this isn’t the way to get you to
stop hating me, is it?” Dipper shook his head, agreeing with him. The demon
hesitantly stepped aside, allowing Dipper to open the door and let Wendy in.
She grinned at him as she walked in, asking what took him so long only half-
jokingly, but her smile faded when she set eyes on Dipper’s companion, who was
scowling at her from across the hall. He mumbled something about going back
upstairs and returned to the attic, leaving her and Dipper alone in the
corridor. When he asked why she was there, she explained that she’d gotten
tired of not being able to see her friends and was getting cabin fever from
being cooped up inside all the time. They talked for a little while in the
living room, and during their conversation he kept quiet about Bill, before
they both decided to go back to sleep. Wendy curled up in Stan’s armchair - as
Dipper suggested to her - while he went upstairs to the attic, only to find
Bill sitting on his bed again, cross-legged and facing the door this time.
He moved again to let Dipper lay down with the blanket over him, but then slid
in beside him, pulling the blanket over both of them. Frowning, Dipper rolled
over to face the wall - turning his back on Bill - but the demon just smirked
and wrapped his arm around his waist, shuffling closer. “I need to sleep too,
don’t I?” he asked, though Dipper suspected he already knew the answer; he
nodded in reply anyway. Dipper wasn’t happy with how little help the demon had
been so far. He hadn’t even mentioned the monsters that had invaded his world,
let alone done anything to get rid of them. Bill didn’t seem concerned about
them at all.
Clutching his pillow with one hand and his trusty torch with the other, Dipper
closed his eyes, preparing to allow sleep to claim him. But he jerked awake
when he suddenly felt Bill’s hot breath ghosting across the side of his neck
and sat up, only to be pushed down again by the demon. “Hey kid, you love me
yet?” he whispered in his ear. Shivering in response, Dipper moved away from
him, crawling towards the wall beside the bed.
Even as they slept, the smirk didn’t leave the demon’s face.
***** Warpath *****
Waking up after the kind of dream he’d just undergone was never enjoyable, but
waking up after a dream like that with Bill Cipher - who’d probably seen
everything, even in his sleep - lying right next to him with one arm snaked
around his waist, crushing him to his side, was even worse. Blinking his eyes
open slowly, unwilling to leave the comfort of his dream, he groaned inwardly
at the tight, knotted feeling in his stomach and forced himself to sit up in
his bed, rubbing his eyes and desperately wishing the light would stop hurting
them.
Then everything seemed to hit him at once and it felt like he was watching his
world fall apart all over again.
They’d lost their right to sleep peacefully during the night; their lives were
condemned to exist only inside their own homes at night with all their lights
on, and they needed to wield torches as weapons to survive. Wendy Corduroy was
downstairs in the Mystery Shack and after the dream he’d just had about her, he
had no intention of facing her just yet. Mabel was in her own bed (still fast
asleep despite it clearly being night time already) and Grunkle Stan was
probably still in his. And finally, Bill Cipher was sleeping next to him - and
he was human (or at least in human form, as he had been when he’d woken him up
in the middle of the day a few hours beforehand).
As it turned out, Bill may not have actually been asleep. Dipper had shrugged
his hand away from him when he sat up but now he could feel it creeping towards
him again, eventually taking hold of his arm. Bill’s other hand reached out and
grabbed at him as well, pulling his arm towards him and hugging it to his
chest. Dipper instinctively ripped his arm away, pressing himself against the
wall beside him so that he was far away from the demon as the restrictive space
of the bed would allow.
He glanced at his sister, still trapped in a deep slumber, and then at Bill,
who now had an irritatingly knowing smirk plastered on his face. He had one
hand on the torch he used to keep away the shadows that were able to move on
their own but his mind was more interested in something else. His dream had
left him in a tormenting state of discomfort but he was sure he’d disturb the
supposedly sleeping demon beside him if he tried to sneak out to the bathroom
as he usually did in these situations, so he stayed where he was, unmoving but
grimacing in frustration and embarrassment.
It only got worse when Bill decided to make his consciousness known. He
suddenly turned his head, startling the young brunet, and looked up at him with
a grin. “That was some dream, Pine Tree,” he commented, clearly amused. His
eyes shone with something Dipper couldn’t put his finger on; he wasn’t even
certain he wanted to understand what it was. He winced at the mention of his
dream, knowing that it meant the demon was completely aware of it and its
contents, and avoided eye contact, hoping he’d go away and leave him in peace.
“You’d probably better get to the bathroom soon, kid. You’re not going to do
anything here, with your sister sleeping over there.” The demon jerked a thumb
in Mabel’s direction, glancing at her momentarily while Dipper stared at him in
stunned silence. “Go!” he practically yelled when the brunet failed to get up.
Mabel stirred in her sleep but her eyes remained firmly shut, her face a
picture of tranquility in spite of the gravity of their situation. As he
crawled out of the bed and walked passed hers, torch in hand and ready to aim
it at any patch of darkness that moved, Dipper smiled to himself at the thought
that Mabel was still her happy, carefree self. That meant the monsters hadn’t
won. Perhaps they’d beaten him, but his sister was still standing strong and
that’s what mattered.
Down the stairs, across the hallway and the floorboard creaked. He looked down,
realising the sound had come from behind him. Swiveling round, the arm holding
the torch raised, his finger on the button as he prepared to switch it on, he
saw nothing. Not a shadow, but not a person either. He shrugged it off and
turned back. It was an old, rickety building. Strange things happened, and not
all of them related to monsters or creatures of the night. The bathroom was in
sight and he carried on creeping towards it, moving as quickly as he could
without making a sound.
When he reached the bathroom door he hesitated, re-thinking what he was doing.
His discomfort would pass in a short while and he didn’t like the idea of
leaving his sister alone with Bill. Luckily he didn’t have to worry about that.
He stepped into the bathroom and turned to close the door behind him, only to
find a foot jammed between the door and the doorframe. Lifting his head up, he
found himself staring into the hazy golden orbs of Bill Cipher, who stood there
gazing at him with a grin on his face.
“I figured you wouldn’t want me hanging around Shooting Star on my own,” he
explained, pushing passed him and marching into the bathroom were he perched on
the edge of the bath, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “You’re
very protective of her.” Dipper closed the door behind him, not because he
intended on letting the demon stay, but because it would minimise the size of
the area he needed to keep an eye on. “Oh, I’m not leaving,” Bill insisted with
a yawn. Dipper muscles tensed and he stood still, his gaze fixed on the demon.
“What?” Bill snapped in response to his anxiety. “Mind if I watch?”
“No!” Dipper roared at him, narrowing his eyes when the blond’s grin widened.
“I mean, you can’t! You have to be out there in case one of those demons is
there!” He threw his arm in the direction of the door but his outburst seemed
to have no impact on the demon at all. “You are meant to be getting rid of
those monsters.” Dipper’s voice was surprisingly stern, shocking them both but
still not enough to wipe the smirk off Bill’s face.
In fact, he smirked even more and pointed to the space behind the brunet. “You
mean like that one, right there?” he beamed, prompting Dipper to whirl round
with his torch pointed straight at the monster he had failed to spot slip
through the crack underneath the door. It was gone in a matter of seconds. He’d
only just slammed his thumb down on the button to switch the torch on,
expecting it to take a few minutes before the creature left. He’d encountered
several since the beginning of the invasion and each time they seemed to take
longer to disappear, as if they were growing stronger day by day - or night by
night, as the case may have been. And yet after basking in the scorching light
for a three, maybe four or five seconds, the blurry figure vanished from sight,
leaving behind no trace of its existence.
The sudden difference in behaviour was unsettling, but then it hit him. Maybe
Bill had been doing something useful after all.
Bill was staring at him. He could feel the demon’s eyes boring holes in the
back of his head and when he spun round he found that they were no longer on
opposite sides of the room from each other, that Bill had stood up and moved to
stand just a few inches away from him. He was nodding his head, with his lips
still curled into that sickening smirk, and it took Dipper a moment to realise
what he was nodding in answer to. So that was it. He had been doing something.
“It left because I told it to,” he said nonchalantly, as if it was something
everyone else should have already thought of. “That won’t work for long
though,” he warned. “They’re getting stronger every night.”
Dipper momentarily congratulated himself for getting that part right, but then
immediately realised it was nothing to be proud of and that it only meant more
trouble for him and the rest of humanity. By this time his discomfort had faded
and he had more urgent matters to focus on, such as the fact that Bill had
actually been useful for once. Bill pointed out that he’d, to use his own words
“just saved his life”, but Dipper disagreed and said that he could have handled
it on his own, if only he’d been given the chance. Bill just laughed at that
and dragged him out into the corridor, suggesting he went and woke Mabel up
because if a shadow demon had managed to get into the bathroom without anyone
knowing, then one could have easily sneaked into the attic and killed Mabel in
her sleep already.
And one of them would have if it hadn’t been for Grunkle Stan.
Dipper was impressed. He hadn’t even expected Stan to be up by then. On the
other hand, Stan was less impressed with his lack of regard for his sister’s
wellbeing. “She could have died!” he kept yelling, and Mabel wasn’t any better
with her constant whining that Dipper should have been looking after her like
he usually did. Rushing to defend him, Bill sidestepped into view beside
Dipper, who quickly pushed him away again, unwilling to involve the demon in
their family discussion.
Unfortunately, Stan’s sharp eyes caught sight of the stranger in his home the
second a strand of blond hair stuck out from behind the wall and he narrowed
his eyes, raising a concerned yet stern eyebrow at his nephew. “Dipper, who is
this?” he asked gruffly, poking his head round the doorframe to get a better
look at the blond stranger.
Dipper’s breath caught in the back of his throat and his mouth suddenly ran
dry. Bill, on the other hand, was perfectly confident and even stepped forward
daringly, challenging the older man with a glare. “I’m your worst nightmare,”
he retorted, his gaze flickering over to Mabel. “And I’m your only hope.”
Once again, Dipper instinctively pushed him away, and hissed at him to leave
them alone for a while. Bill reluctantly agreed and turned his back on him,
walking away with every intention of sabotaging the brunet’s ambiguous
relationship with the girl he liked to call “Red.” At that moment, as he strode
into the living room where Wendy Corduroy was sitting up in Stan’s armchair,
eyes glued to the TV, there was only one thing on his mind: until Red was out
of the way, Dipper would never even try to replace her with him.
She didn’t notice him as he marched in, but she should have. And she should
have feared the worst. Because Bill Cipher was on a warpath and she was in his
way.
***** Monster *****
Well, he was on a warpath until he marched over to her and she looked up,
locking eyes with him. After a brief moment, her face broke out into a smile
and she pointed out that he must have been very close to Dipper, because he had
been welcomed into the Mystery Shack even before she had. He paused to consider
her words and, realising that Dipper had been unable to think of much but him
almost since his attempt to take over the world had failed (and that he’d
barely even thought of Wendy until she came running to him), he decided to
retreat and let her live. Maybe she’d even be useful to him - possibly, though
he didn’t yet know how.
Knowing that Dipper didn’t want him to interrupt his discussion with his family
- and that failing to obey would set his plan to replace the redhead as the
object of his affections by quite a while - he sat down on the floor to the
side of Wendy’s chair (which was actually Stan’s chair and he wasn’t going to
be very happy to find somebody else sat in it) and stared straight in front of
him, his gaze settling on the television screen. This was the first time he’d
ever experienced using one first-hand, though at any given time he’d observed
countless humans watching them mindlessly. And now that he’d finally come
across one for himself, he completely understood why (although he didn’t
necessarily understand what was really going on in the program he was
watching). The colours, the sounds, the motion… It was mesmerising.
He and Wendy sat in silence until Dipper eventually strode into the room, an
anxious-looking Mabel and a stern-looking Stan traipsing in behind him. The
movement to the left of him distracting him, Bill jumped to his feet and moved
to stand by Dipper’s side, though he made sure to stay in between him and
Wendy. He was already aware of what had been said between the three of them
whilst he’d been out of the room; he’d heard it while they were speaking
amongst themselves. It just went to confirm what Wendy had said: he must have
been close to Dipper because he was the only one who had defended him. Upon
learning of his identity, Stan had demanded that he be thrown out of the house
and Mabel had accused her brother of being insane to even interact with him.
Even now, they were glaring at him coldly whereas Dipper was looking at him
with a sympathetic look on his face.
Bill was about to say something to him - to thank him for not hating him quite
as much as everyone else did - but then a rough hand grabbed him by the
shoulder and dragged him across the living room floor. He didn’t protest.
Earning the family’s trust unfortunately meant cooperating with them, and he’d
need them to trust him if he was ever going to get Dipper to really care about
him.
Stan didn’t let go of him until he’d dragged him down a set of steps and into
the basement, where he knew Ford would be. “Take him,” he grunted, forcefully
shoving the blond towards his twin brother so that his back crashed into Ford’s
chest. “You know how to deal with him. You’ve done it before.” Then he turned
on his heel and vanished through the door, leaving Bill to turn around and grin
devilishly at Ford, the look of sudden realisation on the elder’s face amusing
him.
“Bill Cipher?” Ford asked after studying his face for a moment or so, though it
was really more of a statement. It wasn’t that he didn’t know who he was, but
that he simply didn’t believe it. He couldn’t. He’d erased Bill Cipher from
existence weeks ago. Whoever was standing before him now could not be Bill
Cipher, except that he was. It should have been impossible, but it clearly
wasn’t. “It can’t be you,” he stated, his voice tinted with disbelief. “You’re
dead.”
“Well then,” Bill laughed at him, turning towards the door. “If I’m dead, Six
Fingers, I suppose it doesn’t matter that I have some business with Pine Tree
to attend to. I’ll be off then.” He started towards the stairs but was caught
by the arm before he managed to reach them and pulled back, spinning round to
grin wildly at Ford again, his visible golden eye alight with malice. “He’s the
one who wanted to see me,” he shrugged casually, half-heartedly explaining why
he was there. “And you know, I really think he’s falling for me.” Ford took it
as a joke but branded him insane for even making light of the idea, whilst Bill
privately thought otherwise. It was merely wishful thinking, of course, but
secretly he thought there was some truth to it. Dipper wouldn’t have been so
defensive of him otherwise.
Ford’s already cold glare hardened and he let go of the blond’s shoulder - but
not before harshly digging his nails into his flesh, letting him know he wasn’t
welcome. “Dipper hates you just as much as I do,” he snapped, but only
succeeded in eliciting a shrill, mocking chuckle. He sighed in response. This
was just like Bill - to laugh at anything and everything, no matter how serious
and unfunny it was, especially if it caused other beings to suffer through pain
and anguish. “No-one wants you here, Cipher. We’ve defeated you before; we’ll
do it again!”
Everything he said resulted in the demon laughing even harder at him and
eventually Bill interrupted him because he wasn’t sure how much more laughing
his human body could take. “Yeah, right, if you defeated me” - he drew
quotation marks in the air with his fingers as he spoke - “then tell me, how
exactly am I still here? (Or rather, how am I here again?) And, you should
note, in a human body I did not have to, er… acquire through underhand means.”
Ford didn’t have an answer to that and the look of confusion on his face nearly
set the blond off laughing again; in fact, he only just managed to reign
himself in.
There were a few reasons why Ford was still alive when left the basement, one
of which was that killing him would have diminished the progress he had made
with Dipper. Then there was the fact that the entertainment that came with
watching the old man struggle to explain the impossible - that after supposedly
being wiped from existence, he had been able to survive and return to the world
he had previously tried to take over and of course, the complexity of his and
Dipper’s relationship - was practically irreplaceable. There weren’t many other
humans - or beings, for that matter - that could provide him with such
amusement. But the main reason was that Dipper himself walked in and asked to
see him alone, and while Ford would have argued with Bill if he’d been the one
to initiate it, he trusted in his nephew’s judgement and kept quiet, though it
was clear he wasn’t thrilled to see him so close to the demon.
“Be careful,” he warned as his nephew put his hand on the door, about to close
it behind him. “That boy is a monster.” The door slammed shut and Ford was
suddenly alone, his nephew and the demon on the other side of the door.
Instead of returning to the living room, where Wendy and everyone else was
gathered, Dipper went straight back up to the attic with the demon in tow. Once
there, he perched on the edge of his bed, fingers anxiously gripping the torch
in his hand, and Bill sat down beside him. He felt like the torch was utterly
useless now. It hadn’t been what had saved him in his most recent - and most
life-threatening - encounter with the shadow demons and he wondered whether it
would ever be of any use to him again. At least now he knew Bill was actually
doing something to help, but that wasn’t enough. He needed to know more.
But when he started to ask about the elusive creatures the demon suddenly went
quiet, seeming unwilling to speak about them. And so Dipper reluctantly decided
to plead with him, explaining that he wouldn’t be able to relax without knowing
what they were and how they could be stopped. As well as that, he thanked him
for earlier, because although he hadn’t wanted the blond to follow him into the
bathroom - particularly in such a delicate situation - he probably would never
have walked out of there alive if hadn’t been for him.
Presumably to welcome his thanks, Bill put his hand on his head - knocking off
his cap - and ruffled his hair, only serving to irritate him. “It’s what I’m
here for, kid. Still,” he added with a sly smirk, glancing at him sideways on.
“I never got to watch you.”
It took a short while for Dipper to realise what he meant, but when it finally
dawned on him he blushed and lowered his head, eyes automatically scanning the
floor for any moving shadows. He found none. “Well I’m not doing that now,” he
muttered, earning a disappointed whimper. “And even if I was,” he added,
slightly more forcefully. “You wouldn’t get to watch.”
“Fine,” the demon grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “Another time
then.”
Dipper stayed quiet for a moment, but then curiosity took over and he had to
ask why he had to ask why exactly he wanted to watch, though he was cautious to
ask considering he wasn’t sure whether the response he’d get would be
unsettling or not. Thankfully, it wasn’t.
“Don’t worry, Pine Tree,” the demon replied, moving to drape his arm around the
brunet’s shoulders. “I’m just interested. It’s not like I haven’t seen you do
it before, but I want to know what it’s really like.” He paused for a few
seconds, thinking, before he spoke up again. “What does it feel like?”
That was the question Dipper had dreaded. It wasn’t something he could explain
- or even wanted to explain - so he simply told him he’d have to try it for
himself. Then he cut the conversation short and went back downstairs, leaving
the demon to trail after him. But the living room door slammed shut before the
blond could follow him inside and Dipper found himself trapped inside the room,
face to face with the stern, concerned faces of his two great uncles, his twin
sister and Wendy. He sighed heavily and glanced back at the door behind him,
not liking the idea of leaving the demon on his own. Bill didn’t know how to
behave. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find him dripping blood everywhere
again the next time he saw him. But the looks on the others’ faces compelled
him to stay; they looked worried, and he guessed they were worried about him.
***** Windows *****
It took hours for the tension to die down and even then, as he lay in his bed
with his trusty torch in his hand, a few traces of the tense feeling of
conflict still lingered. Mabel hadn’t come to bed yet and he didn’t expect her
to. She was probably going to spend the night downstairs with Wendy, who seemed
to hate him just as much as everyone else did now. That was the worst possible
outcome of Bill Cipher’s sudden re-appearance - Wendy turning her back on him.
Even Ford and Mabel had lost faith in him and it was all Bill’s fault. Well,
no, it was all his fault.
A part of him wished Bill had taken the same approach as Mabel and stayed
downstairs, avoiding him like the plague (not that that would have gone down
well with everybody else) but instead he’d done the opposite. He’d stayed with
him ever since he’d left his tense discussion about him with everyone else.
He’d stayed by his side as he ate, as he flicked through the pages of the
journals and even now, as he tried to sleep, the demon was lying next to him,
his gaze fixed on him. The warmth of his body was strangely comforting and he
found himself closing his eyes, his grip on his torch relaxing as he slipped
into a blissful state of unconsciousness.
At some point during the day as they slept, the blond rolled over onto his side
and pressed his chest up against the younger’s back, pinning him to his body
with his own and wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him in place. Dipper
awoke to the sound of heavy breathing and to the feeling of more heat than the
thin blanket covering their bodies could have possibly provided. Then, he
realised a second later, there was something else. The demon was moving against
him slowly, his grip on his body tightening with every moment that passed.
As realisation hit him, Dipper prised his hand off him and jerked away,
scrambling to sit at the bottom of the bed and turning to stare at the demon,
examining him carefully. With curiosity in his gaze, he crept closer to him -
silently - and watched.
Bill’s hand had moved from where it had been laying limp across the pillow and
was now grabbing at the lower parts of his body as he bucked into his palm. A
gasp escaped his lips and Dipper instinctively moved back but still managed to
keep quiet. After another moment or so of watching him, a breathy moan left his
lips and Dipper’s trance was broken. He needed to do something: to either leave
and let him wake up of his own accord or wake him up himself, right there and
then and put a stop to what he was doing.
But if he left the attic, where would he go? To breakfast, hoping no-one else
would be there and pretend nothing had happened to ruin his relationship with
them if they were? Waking him up would only prompt the demon to ask more
questions about what he was feeling, and then there would be the issue of how
he was going to rid himself of the tension - which Dipper had no desire to help
him with.
That realisation was what decided it for him. Smoothing the blanket out and
taking hold of the torch, he stood up from the bed and sneaked downstairs as
quietly as he could, heading towards the kitchen. Thankfully, no-one else was
there when he walked in. He sat down and poured himself a bowl of cereal, and
it was at that moment that Wendy’s shadow was cast over him. Acting entirely on
impulse, he snatched the torch up from the table, switched it on and aimed the
beam of light directly at the shadow before he realised it was Wendy’s, at
which point he set it down on the table again and switched it off, muttering a
barely audible apology.
They hadn’t spoken since she’d accused him (albeit gently) of putting the
monster that had already ruined their lives in so many ways before his
friendship with her. The discussion she and his family had confronted him with
the night before had broken his heart in a way that he didn’t think it could
ever be repaired, not unless Bill proved himself useful to them. He’d told them
of how he’d saved him but still they accused him of being deluded. Ford had
called him a classic case of Stockholm Syndrome and even though Dipper had
succeeded in convincing them all that the demon had to stay in order to prove
his worth, he had failed in his attempt to repair his relationships with them.
He still had Bill, but that was all. And what was even more confusing than the
breakdown of his other relationships was the nature of his relationship with
the blond. They’d kissed, though that had been initiated by alcohol and so he
had no idea how much control he’d had at the time or whether he’d even known
what he was doing, and he was sure that if the situation arose again, he’d want
to take it further this time. All that had been supposed to happen was that
Bill would rid the world of the monsters that had been set loose and that would
be the end of it. They’d never see each other ever again. But with the demon’s
demand that he at least attempted to find some good in him, that he tried his
hardest to show him love, it seemed like it was never going to be that simple.
As she sat down opposite him, picking up a spoon and getting started on her own
bowl of cereal, Wendy’s face broke into a small, out of place smile. It wasn’t
her smile. It was different, wrong and detached. But at least she was trying
and, recognising that fact, he smiled back at her but immediately lowered his
gaze to the table until her voice cut through the silence.
“We’re only looking out for you.” He looked up at her again when she spoke,
cautiously, afraid that any wrong move would result in an outburst of hatred
and disapproval even though he knew in his heart of hearts that Wendy didn’t
really hate him - none of them did - but that they were concerned about the
problems Bill could cause them. He was to blame for anything the demon did,
after all. He was the one who’d convinced him to return to Gravity Falls and
stay in the Mystery Shack with him. Anything that happened because Bill was
there, would really have happened because Dipper had brought him back.
He simply nodded at her in reply. “Yeah, I know.” His voice was barely above a
whisper and when she failed to respond he wondered whether she’d even heard
him. After a while, his mind wandered and he wouldn’t have noticed if Wendy had
started speaking to him again, having gotten lost in a trance revolving around
Bill Cipher and what he was thinking.
He tried not to let himself think about what the blond was doing at that
particular moment in time but the mental images invaded his thoughts anyway, no
matter how hard he tried to block them out. He was probably still asleep, lying
on the bed and rutting into his palm. As the memory grew stronger and more
vivid and Dipper could feel himself sitting at the bottom of the bed, watching
him, he choked on the mouthful of cereal he was crunching his way through and
forced himself to swallow it, the sudden crush of reality tearing through his
thoughts and dragging him out of his hypnotic state.
Pushing his half-empty bowl of cereal aside, he poured the rest of his milk
down his throat and stood up from the table. As he turned away, he and Wendy
shared a silent glance of recognition before he scrambled back up the stairs, a
voice at the back of his mind warning him not to go up. He ignored it and
carried on, only stopping when he found himself face to face with the blond who
he’d assumed to still be asleep.
The demon was on his way downstairs when Dipper ran into him. Something was
wrong and Dipper noticed immediately: that trademark smirk of his was missing
from his face, the glimmer of mischief in his golden eye dulled. He opened his
mouth to ask what was wrong but instead was suddenly grabbed by the arm and
spun around, the blond pushing him down the wooden staircase and leading him
into the bathroom which, by some miracle, was vacant.
He heard the water running before he saw it, having closed his eyes as he was
pushed through the bathroom door with the demon’s hands at his sides. When he
opened them and saw the blond locking the door, essentially preventing anyone
else from interrupting them, his mouth fell open automatically as he tried to
ask what he was doing but only succeeded in spluttering out incoherent
nonsense. A hand suddenly clapped over his mouth, silencing him, and then he
felt his clothes being tugged off him and he swatted the hand away, demanding
to know what he thought he was doing.
Stopping what he was doing, Bill stood there in silence for a moment, as if he
was deep in thought. “You know,” he muttered quietly and Dipper shook his head.
No, he didn’t know and he told him that. “Not that,” the blond laughed, though
his laughter was quieter than usual - stifled, even. “You saw. When I was still
asleep, you saw me. You know.”
Dipper dropped his gaze to the tiled floor beneath his feet and mumbled a
barely audible reply. “Oh, that. Right, I do know.” He hoped to God the demon
wasn’t going to say anything else regarding what he’d seen earlier that morning
but he knew in the back of his mind why he’d been brought into the bathroom.
Why he was running a bath, however, was unfathomable.
But he didn’t find out why he was doing such a thing until later on, because as
Bill was about to discover, locking the door couldn’t always prevent
interruption.
It was Stan who interrupted them, pounding his fist against the door as the
demon was instructing Dipper to lift up his arms so he could pull his shirt
over his head more easily.
Dipper, although confused and embarrassed, was about to do as he said when he
heard his uncle banging on the door. Scowling, the blond waved a dismissive
hand in the direction of the bath and the water stopped running. He opened the
door to Stan with a sigh, grabbed Dipper by the hand and pulled him out of the
room looking even more annoyed than before.
“Let’s get out of here,” he grumbled, heading towards the front door.
Through the window, Dipper could see the darkness consuming the town he’d grown
to love. The outside world was quiet, still and immersed in shadows, the only
light coming from the silver stars dotted about the black expanse of sky above.
He would have given almost anything to be out there but feel safe at the same
time, and suddenly, as if he were dreaming, he was.
But he didn’t feel safe. How could anyone - anyone who had gone through what he
had - feel safe outside in the dark with monsters that lived and thrived in the
darkness, disguised as shadows, with no-one to depend on but Bill Cipher? For a
moment or two, he stood looking into the living room of the Mystery Shack
through the window, but then Bill took him by the hand and - in spite of his
protests - led him away. They walked off into the dark and not once did he look
back at the Mystery Shack as they strode away because Bill’s voice was always
there to remind him what they’d said, to remind him that they didn’t want
either of them around and that he’d always be there to protect him even if his
family wasn’t.
And for a while, Dipper believed him.
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