Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day started off like all the rest. Hot, humid, and tingling with the strange electricity that was native only to Gravity Falls. It was a day almost exactly like the last. Almost.

For Dipper Pines, there was not a moment of this day to be wasted. Tucking his trusty journal into the inner pocket of his blue vest, he zipped up his shorts and took the stairs two at a time, tripping on the way down.

“Dipdop! Where do you think you’re going?”

The younger twin rolled his eyes at the sound of his sister’s voice. “I’m going to go and explore, Mabel,” he said, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth and trying to wrestle with his shoes at the same time. “There was this page on some kind of god dwelling in the heart of the forest and I was thinking-,”

Mabel grabbed his shoulder and gasped dramatically. “Dipper! You know that you don’t mess with the gods!” Her voice lowered and she looked around as if an entity would come and smite them to the ground. “The gods mess with you!”

Laughing, Dipper brushed off his older twins hand and grabbed a handful of pens off of the small table next to the front door and pulled his faded pine tree cap onto his head. “Please, Mabel. The gods are old by now, and it's true that there’s something about this town that draws them here, but it traps them. I’m totally safe.”

Mabel scrunched her face up, one hand reaching out to grab a glass of Mabel juice and the other playing with her wild curls. “Trap them? How?” Eagerly, Dipper pulled out the worn, dog eared journal and opened it up.

“See- it’s kind of like wasps and honey. The wasps are attracted to the honey, and they land in it, but once they do, they-,”

“Get stuck… and suffocate,” Mabel finished slowly. Dipper grinned and nodded. “Exactly! And you know me, Mabel, I’ve encountered everything from kelpies to wendigo to the Multibear! Plus, all the gods have to be dead by now.”

The older twin sighed, and Dipper knew that he had convinced his sister. “Alright, Brobro. Just… be careful. I wish I could come with you, but…”

Dipper nodded. “Pacifica’s taking you out on a date today, isn’t she?” Mabel blushed and ducked her head bashfully. “Yeah…”

“Ugh, you’re such a dork.”

“Hey! Says the one who still carries that old book around and plays in the forest even though he’s seventeen and-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Dipper waved his hand at his sister, opening the door and relishing the muggy air that flooded into the house. He looked at his left wrist. “It’s nine. I’ll be back before midnight.”

“Bye, Brobro! Awkward twin hug?” She asked, opening her arms.

“Awkward twin hug.”

They stayed like that for a moment, arms wrapped around each other, until Mabel pulled away with a look of disgust. “Ick, what have you been rolling in?”

Dipper gave his twin a playful shove. “Have fun on your daaaate, sis.”

“Bye, Dippingsauce!” Mabel chirped over her shoulder as she ran towards the stairs, face a blazing shade of red.

Chuckling, Dipper closed the front door behind him and headed into the woods.

Dipper felt more alive in the woods. He always had. There was something about the titanic trees and the strange forest residents that stirred something deep in his bones, making him feel as though his senses were heightened. As he opened the journal yet again and began to follow the path he had taken yesterday, he thought back to his conversation with Mabel.

“…Plus, all the gods have to be dead by now.”

Guilt stirred in the pit of his stomach as he remembered his words to his twin. He hated lying. He always had. But what he had found yesterday was something that Mabel could never see.

He had found a god.

Ferns brushed dew across his face as he stepped off of the well-trodden path and onto a barely visible one. The deeper he walked through the forest, the more the light seemed to fade and the colder it got.

Sooner than he expected, the light dimmed almost completely, and Dipper swore he could hear his own heartbeat beating as something rustled in the bushes to his right. “It better be coming up soon…” He muttered nervously, pulling out his flashlight and pointing it at the trail ahead of him. Pointing the yellow at the book in his hands, he matched the image in the book to the one ahead of him. “Shit, this doesn’t look anything thing like from yester- oh.”

His beam had caught a flicker of blue.

Swallowing thickly, the teen crept towards the blue aura, pulse racing. It was here. It had to be. He recognized everything now- the clearing, the massive, gnarled oak tree- the man nailed to it. Holding his breath, he paused behind a tree, gathering his courage. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Sure, everyone had seen gods before-but no one had ever spoken to them, out of fear of death.

Dipper could not waste this chance. Now, if only he could make his body move…

“Hey, kid.”

The brunet let loose an ear shattering scream, the noise amplified off of the trees. “Oh my god!”

How had he been spotted? The damn god was nailed to a tree! He couldn’t have seen him! A smooth chuckle floated from the large tree. Dipper could only see part of the gods arm from this angle, so how could he possibly-?

“On the contrary, kid. I may not be able to see you, but I can still See you. Not as well as I used to, of course-,” his voice slipped into a flat growl, his arm tensing. “-but I can still See you well enough.”

When the teen remained silent, the god sighed, dragging it out obnoxiously. “Seriously, kid, I’ve been nailed to this goddamn tree for two thousand years. I doubt that I’m going to magically escape now.” Cautiously, Dipper crept around the tree and entity, giving it a wide berth. Pulling his flashlight back out of his vest, he turned it on and pointed it at the god. Dipper gasped at the same time as the god did, though for different reasons.

The god hissed, squinting his eyes at the bright light. “Geez, could you point that somewhere else? I haven’t seen sunlight in centuries, you fool!”

Dipper blinked clowly before fumbling with the flashlight, pointing it at the dark moist soil at the god’s feet. “Uh… yeah. Sorry.” He was still trying to get over how human this god looked. He was taller than the average human, six or seven feet perhaps, but besides that he looked like he could be a normal person- besides the triangular eye-patch, of course.

He was also, uh, very…

“Pretty? Yeah, I got that a lot before I got stuck here.” The god said nonchalantly, rattling the glowing blue chains on his feet. There were none on his hands as they were nailed to the tree itself by plain iron nails. There was no blood, but golden ichor stained the bark, making it shimmer in the semi-darkness.

Dipper blushed, turning his head away. “Shut up.” He muttered, before clapping his hands over his mouth. Oh man, he was dead. He was so dead. He was-

Not dead. The brunette blinked in confusion as the god began to laugh, in surprisingly high and smooth tone. “You are something else, kid! I think I like you-,” The gods glowing yellow eye illuminated upon the other's hat. “-Pine Tree!”

Dipper sputtered, stepping forward. “Excuse me?”

The god laughed again. “Pine Tree! I like it! Oh, how rude of me,” he said, lips turning up into a smirk, “The name’s Bill. Bill Cipher. I’d give you a hand, but- you know.” He chuckled, glancing down at his pinned hands.

“B-Bill? Bill Cipher? You- you’re-,” Dipper squeaked, his throat going dry. Bill Cipher was one of the most powerful and notorious gods to ever exist. All children had heard the tales of how this god would massacre entire cities in a single night, not to mention all the other terrible crimes and atrocities he had committed.

“Yes, yes I’ve killed people, lots of people, and kissed pretty much everything from goats to old women. But-,” the god said seriously. “If you knew the things I knew… well, you’d lose your marbles too!”

Dipper winced. “Why… are you telling me this?”

Bill peered down at him, eye smoldering. “Because you’re special. I’ve never Seen any mortal like you. Your aura… your mind is something utterly unique.”

Dipper felt the flattery oozing from the god, but something about his tone was so honest… The teen shook his head twice, trying to rid himself from his thoughts. “I bet you say that to every unlucky mortal that stumbles across your path.”

Bill chuckled. “Very few have come this way, Pine Tree. And those who have… never left.”

Dipper shuddered, fear hitting him once again. This god was going to be trouble. He seemed so human, besides his seemingly insane state of mind. The god looked at him again. “We’re not so different, you and I,” Bill murmured. “I mean, I used to be mortal too.”

Dipper blanched. “What?” He has to be lying, Dipper thought. Mortals can’t become gods! It’s never happened!

Bill smiled, showing off sharp white teeth, though it seemed feeble. “It has happened, Pine Tree. And you’re looking at it.”

The teenager paced in front of the god, twisting his cap in his hands as he thought. “But… never has there been a case or mention of this! I mean, it should be impossible! That much knowledge and strain on a human mind would drive the person-,” he trailed off, staring at the once-man nailed to the tree in front of him.

“Insane? Mad? Loco?” Bill whispered. “Because that’s what happened to me. I was human once, Pine Tree. In fact,” his eye flashed a bright blue for an instant, lighting up the area around the tree briefly- “I had a mind quite like yours.”

The younger twin shook his head, unknowingly treading closer to the god. “No… no, that can’t… but how-?” he said, almost to himself.

The god shrugged, then winced as the gesture tugged at the flesh around the nails. “I was young and naïve, Pine Tree. Eager, thirsty for knowledge. Kind of…” Bill’s eyes flickered from the teenagers face to his feet. “Like you.” He said softly.

A shot of adrenaline ran through Dippers body as he realized he had wandered too close to the god. A circle of blue runes lit up around the oak tree, and Bill grinned widely. “You have done me such a favor, Pine Tree.”

The earth began to shake, and blue light flickered up from the ground in jagged bolts. Bill leaned his head back against the bark of the tree, laughing. Dipper backed up, then yelped as his back hit something solid, forcing him forwards again. Some sort of shield had sprung up from the circle of runes and it was shrinking, forcing the teen towards the trapped god. “Two thousand years!” The god crowed, and Dipper shook his head, forcing himself against the ever shrinking circle.

“Two thousand years of pain and near blindness and darkness, and now, and now!” The god laughed, blue fire dancing in his eye. Dipper shuddered as the space between him and Bill disappeared. “Make it quick,” He whispered, looking at the ground, numbed by fear. The god was going to kill him, tear him apart, and not even his own knowledge or that of the journal could save him now.

The god stopped laughing, and Dipper looked up just in time to see the nails in the gods hands dissolve. “Oh, Pine Tree,” the god murmured, reaching out a hand and flicking the brim of the teenager’s hat. “I could have killed you the moment I saw you.”

“But you didn’t,” Dipper whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of churning earth. “Why didn’t you?”

The god smiled, a different smile from his shark tooth grin, and Dippers heart skipped stupidly. You’re probably going to be eaten by a god, Dipper. You’re probably going to die, so stop acting like an idiot.

“Like I said, Pine Tree,” The god said distractedly, stretching to his full height, joints popping and cracking, “You’re special. I could make you my apprentice. You could know everything you wanted to know.”

Dipper swallowed, trying to reason with the two voices inside his head. One screamed at him to turn the god down and run, but the other leapt at the chance for pure, undiluted knowledge…"

If I join you… what will you get from it?” He said, awkwardly; the shield had pressed them completely against each other, and his face was pressed into the god’s chest. A hand reached down and carded through Dippers hair, and the teen flinched before relaxing. The god smelled like cedar and lavender and it made him want to fall asleep for some unknown reason. His eyelids began to flutter, and he let his eyelids droop. This really wasn’t the place for sleep, but since he was probably going to die anyways, why not?

The teen yelped as Bill slapped the top of his head hard. “Nu-uh, Pine Tree! No falling asleep on me! We still need to work this deal out!”

“Okay…” Dipper mumbled, “What do you… want?”

With his head leaning against Bill’s chest, he felt rather than heard the chuckle that the god let out. “I want you, Pine Tree. I can make you a god. There are ways to preserve most of your sanity now, methods I hadn’t discovered when I was still mortal.”

The noise and the light and the cracking had stopped, Dipper realized, and when he looked away from the god's face he saw that the massive oak tree had been uprooted and overturned.

Dipper nodded slowly, still trying to get over the ‘I want you’ part. “Uhm… can I still live at the Shack with Mabel and- and-,” He yawned loudly, then blushed. “-uhm, and Grunkle Stan?”

Bill hissed, letting air whistle past his teeth. “Fine. But I get to stay there too.”

“What?”

“You heard me, kid. I get to stay with you.”

“Why?”

“Because you are mine. No one else gets to have you, and I can’t be sure that everyone in this town will agree to that unless I am there right beside you.”

Dipper's head spun dizzily. This was too much.

The god reached out and pushed the teenagers jaw up. “Don’t leave your mouth open like that, Pine Tree. You might inhale something gross.”

“You… Bill Cipher, the god, want to live in my house.”

“Yes!”

“And you won’t hurt anyone in there? Or anyone in town?”

Bill frowned, removing his hand from the top of Dippers head to put it over his heart. “I’m wounded that you think I’d do that, Pine Tree!”

Dipper looked at him in disbelief.

“Okay, okay, I promise!”

Dipper sighed. “Alright then.”

“So… do we have a deal?” Bill chirped, holding out his hand, which exploded into blue flame. Dipper yelped, and tried to step backwards, arms flailing as he tripped over his own feet. His breath caught as the gods arm laced around his waist.

“I said,” The god whispered, “Do we have a deal?”

Head spinning from exhaustion, excitement, fear, and something else Dipper didn’t want to think about, he nodded. He stuck out his hand and shook the gods. Bill Cipher grinned at Dipper, and despite the insanity of the situation, Dipper grinned back.

“Well, shit,” The god muttered, looking away from Dipper.

The brunet tilted his head. “What is it? Is something wrong? I-,”

Bill growled. “Shut up, Pine Tree.”

“Wha-?”

The gods arm tightened around Dippers waist, and the teenager squeaked as the god brought his mouth down over his, gently capturing Dippers lips. Bill’s lips were warm and soft and the way they moved over Dippers caused sparks to race up and down his spine. Feeling light headed, he reached up and grabbed the god’s shoulders for support, leaning into the kiss.

When they finally broke apart a few minutes later, Dipper sank to his knees, hands covering his burning face. “Wha- what was that? Was that part of, um, sealing the deal?” He said, staring at the ground. Bill grabbed the teenager with both hands, gathering him into his arms bridal style. “Nope!” The god said cheerfully, ignoring the yelps of embarrassment that came from the other boy’s mouth.

“Then… why did you do that?” Dipper muttered, folding his arms sullenly as the god cheerfully exited his prison.

Bill hummed, walking quickly down the path. “I don’t know really. Maybe because you’re special?”

“… I don’t think my mind has anything to do with this.” Dipper grumbled, wincing as a tree branch hit him in the face.

The god shrugged as the emerged from the forest, eyes squinting against the dim… starlight?

Dipper stiffened. “There’s no way… I was gone for an hour and a half… two hours, tops. It shouldn’t be dark out!”

He checked his watch.

11:59 PM.

“What the hell…?” Dipper muttered, his mind running in circles, trying to comprehend that he had been gone for roughly fifteen hours.

Bill chuckled, walking up to the Shack. “Interesting hovel…” He murmured, looking at the ‘S’ lying on the middle of the lawn. “Bill!” Dipper snapped, his patience gone. “What caused this… this time anomaly?”

The god grinned, stepping onto the front porch, then wincing as the step squeaked loudly. “That part of the forest you were in… it wasn’t quite your forest. If you hadn’t freed me, you most likely would have been stuck in there, wandering in circles, and encountering all sorts of… Beasts.”

Dipper nodded slowly. “Okay. We’ll talk about this later. Now, could you please put me down-,” He froze like a deer in the headlights as the door opened.

"Dipdop! Where the- oh, hel-lo!"

Mabel froze as well at the sight of her brother cradled in the arms of a seven foot tall piece of sexy. “Dipper,” She said, “Where were you? Why were you gone for two days? And who the hell is this?” She gestured at the stunning man, noting the eyepatch.

Dipper blinked. “Two days? That’s insane!” He looked up at the man, grinning sheepishly. “I guess you were right.”

The man rolled his eye and sighed. “Of course I’m right, Pine Tree! I’m a god after all!”

Mabel’s eyes widened. “Dipper Abel Pines, did you bring a god back home?”

Dipper spread his hands pleadingly, his face burning up. “Mabel, look, I-,”

“I mean, I expected you to bring somebody home for the night eventually- I even brought soundproof earphones, but a god, Brobro, a friggin god?”

“NO, Mabel, it’s not like that, I swear!” Dipper choked, covering his face with both hands. The man grinned widely at Mabel, and despite the fear that filled her, she grinned back. “Well…,” The man began slowly, “He is mine, and I’m staying here with him now, and I’ve already kissed him.”

Mabel laughed, holding out a hand to high five the god with. “You go, bro!”

The god just stared at it.

“Oh.” Mabel said. “It’s a... high five. We hit our hands together when we’ve done something cool, like embarrassing Dipdop just now!”

The god nodded. “I see…” He hit Mabel’s hand back and they laughed together.

“Bill… no… don’t encourage her.” Dipper groaned, admitting defeat.

Mabel raised an eyebrow. “Well, Bill… can I invite you inside for a drink?” Bill nodded, dropping Dipper to the ground with an undignified thump. “What kind of beverage would you be offering?”

“Well… let’s just say it’ll blow your mind. I call it ‘Mabel Juice!’” She chattered, grabbing the god by the hand and dragging him into the house, pulling the demon over her younger brother’s hunched form. As the noise level rose inside the house- Grunkle Stan had apparently discovered the new addition to the household- Dipper picked his head up from the rough wooden porch.

“Oh my god.” He banged his face back against the ground as something glass shattered inside the house, followed by loud shrieking and screaming. “This is not going to end well.”

Chapter Text

It had been a week already and the shit had already hit the fan. As it turned out, gods didn’t handle domestic life well. In a few short days, Bill had managed to burn down half of The Shack (“But I was just trying to boil water like humans do!”), terrorize everyone in the house (“Bill, you have got to stop putting my makeup on Grunkle Stan’s face while he sleeps, okay? No one wants to see that”), and make Dipper extremely uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.  At least Stan and Ford had grudgingly accepted Bill’s presence in The Shack, at least for the next little while. 

Dipper was still no closer to becoming a god, which didn’t bother him in the least, but he was bothered by the lack of explanation Bill had given him. He wanted to know why Bill had been nailed to a tree, and how Bill had gone from mortal to immortal, and why he had done it. (“Give it time, Dip. Bill probably wants to wait a little while before blowing your mind with knowledge. Plus, it’s only been a week. Wait a little, okay?”)

What bothered Dipper even more how well Mabel got along with Bill. He’d get up in the morning to see the two side by side, chugging Mabel Juice by the glass. Bill seemed to enjoy Mabel’s company-he had rainbow painted nails to prove it. It was disturbing, to be honest.

But nothing more disturbing than the situation he was in now. The Shack was open for tourists on Mondays, and Dipper was scheduled to work the counter. Bill refused to stay in Dipper’s room while he worked, and had followed him downstairs, sitting in the corner of the gift shop and glaring at every person who looked at Dipper. He wished that Mabel or Stan was with him, but his sister was leading tours and Stan was out on vacation with Ford. The brunette shivered slightly as he rang up another gullible customer’s pricey purchase; he could practically feel the god’s gaze boring into his back as the customer smiled at him across the counter. Dipper smiled back nervously, and felt Bill’s gaze narrow. 

“Have a good day, and don’t forget, we put the ‘fun’ in ‘no refunds,’” Dipper recited in a monotone, handing the stuffed bags to the man. The man smiled coyly at him, and Dipper coughed in alarm. “If you ever end up looking for a little fun, feel free to call me,” he said, sliding a receipt with a phone number hastily scribbled across it towards Dipper. Dipper felt his jaw drop as the other man gently put the slip into the palm of his hand. “Wh-What?”

The man, a tall, lanky, ginger, grinned. “You heard me. Phone whenever. You look like someone who would appreciate a couple nights of good, hard- ack!” He gasped as an elbow was shoved into his ribs.

Dipper put a hand over his face in exasperation as Bill squared up against the man. “Bill, please.” Bill’s only reply was an annoyed growl. The god leaned in towards the gasping man, anger etched on his face.

“What do you think you were doing?” The man clutched the side of the counter, expression changing as anger set in. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong, buddy. I was just giving the guy working the counter my number. Didn’t realize that was a crime.”

Bill smiled toothily. “Actually, it is a crime! Because,” he whispered, leaning in closer to the man, “Pine Tree over there? He’s mine. And if you touch him, I will drag your intestines out of your mouth and sew a sack of hungry rats inside your stomach. Do you understand me?”  The man nodded, shaking. “Good! Now, get the hell out of here before I make you.”

The man blinked rapidly, turned on his heel and left, leaving his purchases behind. Dipper let his head fall onto the counter, groaning as the sound of squealing tires announced the departure of the terrified man. “Bill…” How did one explain that saying those sorts of things were not okay?  He sighed, trying to think of a simple way to explain human manners.

“Give it to me, Pine Tree.”

Dipper looked up, confused. “What?”

“His stupid calling card. His number. Give it to me.”

“Why should I? It’s not like he’d want me to call now.”

The god’s eyes blazed a burning yellow as he held out his hand. “Because you don’t need it. You are mine. You don’t need anyone else but me.” Despite himself, Dipper had to force back the fluttering in the pit of his stomach as he absorbed the words. Bill was treating him like an object. He was not an object. “I’m not an possession , Bill. I don’t do everything for you.”

The other man pouted, folding his arms and leaning against the counter, his back to Dipper. The anger was gone as suddenly as it had come.  “It’s not fair. You let all these other idiots court you, but you won’t let me do the same thing. It’s annoying.” The god sniffed, brushing out the wrinkles in his black shirt.

Dipper let out another sigh, reaching out impulsively to play with the curly blond hair at the nape of Bill’s neck. “It’s not that, Bill. It’s like… it’s wrong for you to do that. It’s wrong for me to want that. It’s like some sort of effed up version of Twilight, except you aren’t a vampire. You’re like, seven thousand years old.” 

The god huffed, and Dipper felt Bill’s neck tense under his fingers. “I don’t care! I don’t know what Twilight is! Plus, you don’t seem to mind when you let me kiss you. I kissed you four times this week!”

“That’s beside the point,” Dipper mumbled, face reddening as he recalled the kisses. Like he could even call them kisses. More like heavy make out sessions. Dipper’s intentions were good, they really were, but he lacked any sort of self-control when it came to Bill. His face reddened further and he pulled his hand from Bill’s neck down to the counter. “I mean, we’ve only known each other for a week. It’s not like I’d date someone I’d only known for a little while.”

Bill spun, his fingers gripping the counter. “Then I’ll wait. I’ll stay here and I’ll wait, because you are different from the rest of these useless meat sacks. Capiche?”

Dipper glared at the god. The god glared back. Honestly, how could Bill say those things with such a straight face? It was impossible to keep his stare when he was actually being serious. “…You’re such an idiot.” Dipper mumbled, looking down at the worn wooden counter.  

“So, yes then?” Bill said nonchalantly, inspecting his colourfully painted nails for chips and cracks.  Dipper closed his eyes, fighting off the headache that was pushing at the edges of his temples. Bill was a god. Bill was ancient. Bill was mesmerizing and annoying and Dipper wanted him.

Screw it. Who needs morals anyways? “Fine.”

The brunette let out a yelp as he was lifted up over the counter by the armpits. “Bill, there could be customers coming in anytime so-,” Dipper paused in shock as he lifted his gaze up to the other man’s face. Bill’s eye literally glowed, and the blonde’s expression could only be described as exultant. A shit-eating grin spread across the god’s face, and Dipper felt his jaw drop for the second time that morning. “Happy much?”

The blonde laughed loudly, the noise filling the empty gift shop. “If that’s what this feeling is, Pine Tree!”

Dipper started to push himself away from the other man, face blazing. “Okay, then. That’s great. But, uh, the gift shop is still open, and just because it’s late August doesn’t mean that tourists won’t come in.”

Bill rolled his visible eye. “Blah, blah, blah. You sound like that old man.” He pulled Dipper closer towards him, a grin sliding across his face. “You know what you need?”

“Seriously, Bill?”

“You look like someone who would appreciate a couple nights of…” He bent down next to the shell of the brunette ears and whispered the rest of the sentence. Dipper swallowed hard, face turning even redder. Warmth rushed through him and the brunette tried not to meet the god’s eyes. He squeaked as the god kissed the underside of his jaw gently and then put a hand over his eyes, mortified.

“B-Bill, seriously.” His protest sounded weak even to his own ears. Bill chuckled lowly and continued to kiss Dippers neck. Electricity sparked through Dipper and he had a hard time thinking about anything except for the overwhelming sensation of Bill’s lips on the bare expanse of his neck. In the corner of his mind he wondered what would happen if a busload of tourists came in.

“Heyyyyyy, Dipdop, guess what I-oh. Oh.”

Dipper sprang apart from Bill, his face cherry red. “Uh. Hi, Mabel? Bill and I were just, you know.”

Mabel grinned, skipping across the room towards her brother. She slung an arm over the younger twins shoulder and giggled. “Just what, Dip?” As Dipper stammered, Mabel turned her head over to where Bill leaned against the counter and gave him a covert thumbs up. The god grinned, all teeth, and returned the gesture. “Nothing,” Dipper mumbled, brushing off his sister’s hand and walking to the gift shops door. “We were doing nothing.”

Mabel hummed, incredulous. “I don’t know if I would call that nothing.”

Bill moved from the counter towards the other man. “I don’t think it was nothing. It was something, wasn’t it, Pine Tree?” Dipper grumbled something under his breath and pulled open the gift shop door forcefully, making the bell chime loudly. “Hold up, Dipper!” Mabel said, suddenly serious. “The reason why I cut the last tour short is because something weird happened in the part of the forest I took the tourists through.” 

Dipper turned around, all ears. He and Bill exchanged a look. “What happened?”

Mabel sighed, and plopped down on the middle of the worn wooden floor. “I thought that the area was supposed to be a safe one, too…” She looked up at the two and pulled out her phone. “Something almost took a kid. I had to use my grappling hook as a weapon. I don’t know exactly what it was, but it looked humanoid. Maybe some kind of deer dude? I dunno.” She unlocked her phone and started swiping through her photo gallery. “I got a couple pictures, but most of them are blurry…”

Beside Dipper, Bill stiffened. The brunette looked up at him curiously, but said nothing. Bill spoke, and his voice was tight and strained. “Can I see the photos, Shooting Star?” Mabel nodded and passed the phone up to him.  The god inhaled sharply as he used his fingers to zoom in on the blurry photos. “Shit!”

Dipper peered over his arm, alarmed. “What is it?”

Bill shook his head, handing Mabel’s phone back. “Close the Shack for today, Star. We have a serious problem.” Mabel opened her mouth but was cut off by Bill. “Don’t ask, not yet. Just do it.”

Mabel nodded, then stood up and raced outside, the door slamming behind her. Dipper touched Bill’s arm tentatively. “Does it have to do with how I found you?” Bill nodded tightly. The brunette sighed in exasperation. “Are you going to explain everything to me now? You didn’t exactly elaborate on what you meant when you said-,” Dipper cleared his throat and lowered it an octave, mimicking Bill’s voice. “That part of the forest you were in… it wasn’t quite your forest.”

Bill said nothing. “Seriously? You’re going to leave me in the dark on this?”

The god grabbed Dipper’s arm and hefted him into his arms. Dipper grumbled. “We’re doing this again?”

Bill shrugged as he took the stairs to Dipper’s room four at a time. “You’re too slow, Pine Tree. This is quicker.”

“I think you’re just doing this to piss me off.”

Despite the anxiety radiating from the blonde, Bill still managed a sly smile. “You’re adorable when you’re mad. Just like a-,”

“Don’t say it!”

“-kitten.”

Dipper growled unimpressively.  “You’re such a jerk.”

“A loveable jerk.”

“Not really.”

“Ow, Pine Tree! That really hurt!”

“Too bad,” Dipper said sullenly as Bill dropped him onto his bed. Bill followed shortly after, lying back on the bed, brow furrowed. Dipper averted his eyes from Bill’s chiseled profile and stared out the triangular window. Bill had mentioned ‘beasts’ on that night, but hadn’t gone into detail. Frustration filled the brunette and he scowled. It was annoying, not knowing what was going on inside Bill’s head. “Bill, could you please talk to me?”

Bill propped himself up on one elbow, his blonde hair just covering his eyepatch. “You know how this town has the thinnest layer between here and there?”

Dipper frowned, confused. “What?”

Bill rolled his eye. “Sheesh, kid. I can’t believe I have to explain this to you.” Dipper stuck his tongue out at Bill childishly, and the god smirked. “Basically, the reason why so many supernatural creatures and qualities are present in this town is because of the veil.” Dipper spoke to ask what the veil was but Bill spoke over him. “Stop asking questions, kid. I have the answers, so wait a second. Anyways, the veil is basically what separates this world from the Other Side, or death, as some of you humans call it. In some spots, the veil is thinner than others, allowing creatures and people from the Other Side to slip through.  The veil around this town is thinner, which allows more of the supernatural to go back and forth through the veil.”

Dipper blinked, absorbing the information. “That… that makes sense, actually.” He got off of the bed and started pacing back and forth, talking to himself. Bill watched on, a bemused look on his face. “So that would mean that something or someone caused the veil to thin… no, maybe it’s just?.. possibly…Wait!” He gasped, turning to face the god. “So when I freed you…”

“You walked straight through the veil and into the Other Side. That’s why you wouldn’t have made it back out. Getting in is always easier than finding your way out, especially with the dangerous creatures lurking in the shadows. Without me, you would have died.”

Dipper dragged a hand down his face. “I…I never realized. I noticed how dark it had gotten, but I didn’t think it was because I was in a completely different place.” Bill nodded. “You were lucky you were able to find me.”

“Wow.” Dipper sat back down on the edge of the bed, allowing Bill to pull him down against his chest. Dipper reached out and wrapped his arms around Bill’s waist, head aching. “So what was up with those photos? Did something bad come out from the Other Side?” Bill hummed, pulling a hand through Dipper’s hair. The brunette tried not to yawn as he pushed his face into Bill’s shirt, breathing in the scent of lavender and cedar.

“Pretty much. I have my suspicions from Shooting Star’s photos, but I’m not totally sure. I can’t exactly See that well anymore.”

“See?” Dipper mumbled. “You can see just fine.”

Bill huffed. “Not seeing, kid. Seeing. It’s my extra sense.” Bill lifted one of his hands up and held it out to Dipper.

“Are those… eye sigils?” The holes in the god’s hands hadn’t healed, leaving perfect holes in his palm. “They won’t,” Bill had told him. “Sometimes these kinds of things never will.” But past the marred skin, dark lines were visible, tattooed deeply into Bill’s skin. “Does your other hand..?”

“Yep! That one wasn’t nailed directly through the pupil, though, so I can See better with that one.” Bill pushed his pinkie finger directly through the palm of his other hand, and Dipper shuddered.

“Who would do that to you?” Bill pressed a kiss onto the crown of Dipper’s head, so gentle that it was barely noticeable. “I’ll explain later, Pine Tree. Now’s not the time.”

“It’s never the time with you, is it?” The brunette grumbled, his words softened by sleepiness and the fact that Bill was kissing his head.

Bill snorted softly and pulled the other man closer. “Time is meaningless, kid.”

“What does that mean? Also, stop calling me kid. I’m eighteen,” he paused. “Well, I suppose I’m a kid to you.”

“Do I have to explain everything I say? There’s a reason why you humans call me Bill Cipher, you know.” Bill’s arms tightened momentarily around Dipper. “And as for why I call you kid… well, does it really matter? I was your age when I made the change from mortal to immortal.” Dipper nodded. “And honestly, age is meaningless too. Practically everything is meaningless.” Bill pushed Dipper’s chin up towards his face. “Except for you, I mean.” Dipper’s face flushed at the god’s words. Stupid smooth god. Reaching up, he pulled Bill’s face towards his and kissed him hungrily. “Now,” Bill said in between kisses, “This is something I can get on board with.” Dipper just hummed and slid one hand through Bill’s hair. It was bliss, and Dipper could focus on nothing but the warmth and the heat of Bill pressed flush against him. 

The door banged open and the two jumped and tried to untangle their legs and limbs from the sheets.

“Okay, so all the tourists are gone, now what do I-seriously, guys?”

He watched from the woods, because he was the woods. He was here to find the one who he had chained, and bring him back. And perhaps, while he was at it, he would take more small ones to fill his belly. He had missed his chance for food today, the woman hitting him with the metal claw. He was a hungry creature, after all. For now, he would watch, from the woods. And, when the time was right, he would-

No! No! He couldn’t let Him control him. He had to find a way to defeat Him. He had to do it, had to do it for his little brother, for Greg. Already, he could feel the cold blackness of His presence drawing him away from reality, away from consciousness. I’m sorry, he wanted to call out to the man in the window. I didn’t want this to happen. He reached out with a blackened hand, hands with nimble fingers that used to so deftly play the clarinet.  I’m so sor-

Now, that was better. His host wasn’t always the most compliant. Silly boy.

For now, he would wait and watch.

From the woods.

Chapter Text

His head hurt so much. It hadn’t hurt this much in the beginning, had it? No, because Greg had been with him, had helped him fight him… How long had he been in the Other Side? Greg had made it out. Briefly, the boy wondered how much time had passed, how old his brother was now. Was Jason Funderberker (the frog, obviously) still alive?

Everything was blurred and foggy inside his brain, like a thick blanket muffling his thoughts. He couldn’t remember anything about his old life besides Greg. Greg was his brother, and he was… Who was he? Oh, yes. His name was Wirt. Wirt… Wirt… He growled, frustrated. What was his last name?

Where even was he? Wirt stood up on gangly, shaking legs and looked around. The scent of green foliage and rich earth filled his nostrils. Looking around at the massive trees, Wirt felt a flash of fear jerk through him. It’s not those woods, he told himself. Just smell the air-this isn’t autumn. The air smelled heavy and sweet, like summer. Squinting, the boy pushed a lock of brown hair out of his eyes and looked past the canopy of rustling green leaves. There. Squares of blue peeking out from the green. Wirt looked around and saw only green and brown. Wood, wood, wood. It seemed to be closing in on him, the vines slithering around his feet and tangling itself in his hair and clothing- Wirt shook his head to dispel the thoughts and tentatively took a few steps forward.

This was Earth, right? Looking around his surroundings, and listening to the birdsong, Wirt knew that it had to be. The Other Side… the Other Side had changed ever since Greg had made it out, had left him. The sun had flickered out, the clouds and monsters had rolled in, and the more peaceful people and creatures of the land had turned for the worse, including Beatrice. Wirt shuddered. He had never thought that he’d been able to kill anything, let alone his best friend.

Let alone Beatrice.

Why had he killed her, again?

Nausea rose in him and he turned and dry heaved into the bushes next to him. Why did I kill her? Wirt could vividly remember her red hair, her flashing eyes as she screamed at him. The red that was everywhere, all over the black ground, the red on his hands and around his wrists. Then nothing. Just static inside his head, a white background buzzing. And he’d killed other people, hadn’t he? He could only remember flashes, but there were too many twisted, limp bodies and red. So much red that Wirt could see it behind his eyelids. He gasped sharply as he looked down. His blue cloak was dirtied with mud-and red stains. Fingers shaking, he touched one of the larger stains and swallowed in revulsion as the crimson liquid came away onto his fingers.

It was blood, and it was fresh.

Something was wrong. He felt wrong. He couldn’t remember anything. “How did I find my way back?” Wirt whispered to himself, his voice hoarse from misuse. “Where’s Greg?” Greg… I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re safe. “Keep moving, Wirt,” he mumbled, picking his way over gnarled tree roots. “Keep moving, and eventually you’ll find someone, anyone.” That’s a Rock Fact, he added silently, because that’s what Greg would tell him if he were here.

Beams of dappled sunlight hit his face as he walked, and Wirt flinched. He hadn’t been exposed to direct sunlight for… a long time. “I must be so pale,” he mumbled, snapping a blade of grass off of a bush and shredding it to pieces in his hands. After Greg had left, there hadn’t been any daylight. At all.

Reaching up with one hand, he pulled off his red hat. It too was dirtied and muddied with various stains. And it stunk. Wrinkling his nose, Wirt shoved it into his coat pocket. He dropped shredded grass onto the path as he walked. And walked.

It felt like he had walked forever before he came upon a road, long and dusty and pocked with holes, but still. A road. Wirt knelt down and gingerly pressed a hand against the asphalt. It was warm and comforting, and the sharp smell of it made Wirt want to burst into tears. Straightening up, he looked both ways up and down the road. “Which way do I go?” He thought aloud, stepping onto the deserted road. Neither directions had any signs or obvious landmarks. Wirt sighed. “I’ll just go left,” he began to walk, relishing the feeling of his worn shoes on the worn road.

There hadn’t been anything like these roads in the Other Side. There really hadn’t even been roads, just worn dirt paths that often led walkers astray. Or into traps, where they would die. Wirt did not miss that part of the Other Side. He didn’t miss anything, really, except for Beatrice, and maybe the frogs. And Lorna. A faint blush crept onto his cheeks as he remembered the soft spoken girl he and Greg had saved. Did Jason Funderburker still have that little silver bell inside of him?

I wonder where Lorna is. I wonder what happened to her. After Greg had left, had Wirt visited her? Brow furrowed, he tried to remember something, anything. Wait. He had tried to find her. Wirt remembered the little house, windows dark. Hadn’t the front door been ajar? He definitely had gone inside, and what had he found? Wirt hit the side of his head with his left hand, trying to remember. “Damn!” He cursed, kicking at a loose chunk of asphalt. It skittered off of the road, and disappeared into the long grass. Heat waves shimmered in the distance, and Wirt was beginning to feel uncomfortably hot as the sun began to rise higher and higher into the cloudless sky. He pulled his dirty cloak over his head and laid it across his arm. Looking down, he grimaced. His white shirt wasn’t even close to white. It was more of a dark gray. Gross. His pants hadn’t fared much better-they were equally discolored, and the cuffs were frayed. “I really need a bath-,” Wirt’s stomach let out a moan. “- and some food.” Hopefully I'll find someone soon.

Just as the sun was in the middle of the sky, Wirt found something. A poster, to be precise. It was faded and morphed by the rain, but readable. 'COME ONE, COME ALL!' It proclaimed in what would have been vivid, blue lettering, 'VISIT LIL’ GIDEONS TENT ‘O’ TELEPATHY, ONLY 6 KILOMETERS DOWN THE ROAD!' p>

Wirt screwed up his face at the disgusting looking creature on the poster. “Is that a pig?” Who cares if it’s a pig or not, Wirt! There’s civilization just down the road! He thought, picking up the pace. After God knew how many years, he was going to be able to find Greg, and be normal again! Normalcy sounded so odd. With what he knew, with what he’d experienced, how was he ever going to integrate into society?

You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, Wirt. Just keep walking.

And so he did. What was probably an hour or so walk felt like months. He glanced towards the forest on his right, and gasped. The blue he had saw earlier was definitely a house-he could make out the pointed, triangular roof and see the faint wisps of smoke coming out of a chimney somewhere.

“Thank god,” Wirt whispered, breaking into a sprint. His legs screamed at him as he ran, muscles burning as they were overworked. His breathing came in heavy gasps as he ran through the underbrush, branches and leaves slapping him in the face. Don’t you dare leave us, they seemed to say. Fear, however irrational, make him run faster. Finally, finally, he saw the clearing ahead. He leapt forward, a stupid grin on his face-and tripped over a tree root, landing on his face. Pain shot through his head, and as Wirt sat up, he became aware of the throbbing in his ankle. “Well, that’s just great.” Wirt limped over to the house. Faded red letters adorned the wall over the front door. “The… Mystery Hack?” Wirt noticed a large red S on the ground. “The Mystery Shack.”

The place looked like it had gone through a lot, like, a hurricane or something. Wirt could faintly hear voices inside, and anxiety and excitement warred inside of him. All of this felt so surreal. He was free, but he couldn’t remember. He needed to find Greg. One step at a time, Wirt thought as he walked up the creaky steps to the front door. One step at a time. He knocked on the door softly, hesitant. No one answered. Wirt knocked again, harder and louder. Footsteps approached the door, and the knob turned. Wirt’s heart leapt up into his throat, and he let out a shaky breath. A girl, maybe a year or so older than him, stood in front of him, shock written all over his face. Wirt took in the bright, cat covered sweater, the pink headband, and the long auburn hair. She was pretty. Really pretty. Wirt felt his throat close up. He’d never been good at talking with girls; even now, after he’d basically wandered around the Other Side and probably killed a lot of people. Just talk, Wirt. Be cool! He thought, biting his lip. Yeah, just be cool.

“Uhm, hi?” His voice had cracked. Oh god, he must look like an idiot. Should he be worrying about how he looked in front of this girl after what he’d been through? Probably not. The teenage brain was the most annoying thing sometimes. Wirt noticed a darkened blood stain near his waist and tried to cover his arm casually.

The girl’s large, brown eyes tracked the movement and she inhaled sharply as she took in his overall condition. “Are you okay? You’re kind of pale.”

Wirt laughed nervously, his eyes flickering from side to side. Wow, she’s pretty. Am I going crazy or is she actually sparkly? “Yeah, well, I haven’t been in sunlight for a long time.”

Something buzzed, and Wirt looked around him. What was that noise? The girl raised an eyebrow at him and pulled a slim, rectangular device out of her pocket. She slid her thumb across the surface, and stopped the buzzing. “What is that?” Wirt whispered, curiosity rising in him.

“It’s a… phone? You know? Apple iPhone?” Wirt stared dumbly at the slim device, horror rising up in him. “That’s no phone,” He sputtered. “Phones are huge and clunky- not anything like..” Wirt trailed off as dread cut off his vocal cords. He looked up at the girl. “What year is it?” The girl frowned. “It’s August 18th?”

Wirt shook his head. “No, the year.”

“It’s…2015?”

Wirt gripped the hand railing. When he and Greg had walked over the garden wall, it had been October 31st, 1985. Greg was-Greg was 23 now. “Oh, my god,” Wirt whispered. “I’ve been in there for years!”

The girl opened the door wider, concern etched on her face. “Do you need some help? My name’s Mabel, what’s yours?”

Black spots began to bloom over Wirt’s vision. “I-I’m Wirt. I was lost.”

Mabel blanched. “Where were you last, Wirt? You’re covered in- that’s blood, isn’t it?” The black spots had almost consumed his vision now.

“The O-Other Side.” He choked out, before the black rushed up to meet him, deep and blissful.

Before

Dipper hummed to himself as he poured hot water into three clean but chipped mugs. Steam from the kettle wafted into his face, making him cough. “Dip! Is the tea ready yet?” Mabel called from the living room. She had brought them both downstairs after she’d went up to Dipper’s room to get them and had found them making out. “Honestly, I’m going to have to do something about this!” She had grumbled. “I’m glad Dipper has someone to make out with, but this is ridiculous!”

Dipper had spluttered and stammered his way down the stairs, and Bill had flopped down on the living room couch with an exasperated sigh. “You’re such a mother, Shooting Star,” he had said. “It’s so annoying!”

Dipper walked into the living room with the tea on a tray. “What are we talking about?” He said as he placed the tray onto the low table. Bill smirked and pulled the brunette down beside him on the couch. Dipper squeaked, his face turning red.

Mabel let out a resigned noise through her nose and grabbed a mug of tea. “Ugh, Dipper, you didn’t put any sugar in this!”

“I did, Mabel! Like, two spoonfuls!”

Mabel growled and stood up. “That’s nothing. I need something to make my taste buds explode! I need sugar.” She made her way into the kitchen, her bare feet making squeaky noises on the smooth wood. As she rummaged through the wooden cupboards for her fix, the low tenor of Bill’s voice drifted over to her, followed by her brother’s laughter. She was happy for her brother. She was so glad that he’d found someone that it didn’t matter if it was a god. Honestly, she was trying to wrap her mind around that. Gods living amongst humans. Huh.

So yeah, she was happy for him. She grabbed the sugar bag and began to shake it into her tea mug. But, a voice inside of her whispered, you’re jealous. Her fingers whitened as she tightened her grip on the sugar. Jealous? Was she jealous? Yes, a tiny part of her whispered. You’re jealous that Dipper has it easier with Bill than you do with Paz.

Paz. Pacifica freaking Northwest would be the end of her, she just knew it. Her date with Pacifica last week had been amazing. It was almost surreal, too good to be true. At the end of their date, Pacifica had evaded her goodnight kiss and looked away. “Is something wrong?” Mabel had asked, worried. Nothing had been wrong, apparently, except for their relationship.

Or so Pacifica’s parents had said. “They found out about us- about me- a couple days ago, Mabel. They don’t understand. They think it’s wrong.”

Mabel had put her hands on her hips, irritated. “It doesn’t matter if they think that it’s wrong, Paz. Do you think this is wrong?”

The blonde had looked at the ground. “I-I don’t know, Mabel.”

That had hurt. How could it be wrong? How could love be evil? Mabel had spent weeks daydreaming of the blonde back in early high school- Pacifica was the crush that Mabel had had for the longest. Her parents hadn’t cared; they had told her that they loved her no matter what. Everyone had been so supportive. Mabel’s fingers shook. Perhaps she was naïve, then, for believing everyone to be accepting of others. No. She was naïve. She was stupid, to be thinking that any of her relationships would work out.

Maybe she was cursed to never keep love at her side.

Sugar spilled over the edges of the counter and hit her bare feet, startling her. “Shit!” How long had she been pouring the frigging sugar into her stupid tea? As she took in the sugar spilling out of the mug and lying at least an inch thick on the surface of the counter, she estimated that she’d been pouring for at least five minutes. Swearing under her breath, she grabbed the garbage can from under the counter and began to sweep the sticky sugar into it with one hand. Bill and Dipper had stopped talking. Probably kissing on the couch, Mabel thought bitterly.

Her hand froze, sugar falling like snow from her palm. Why was she being so bitter? Dipper deserved this. Mabel just needed to fix this. She needed to show Pacifica and her parents that there was nothing wrong with love, regardless of gender, religion, race, or status. How could she do that? Absentmindedly, she scooped some sugar off of the counter and shoved it into her mouth. The doorbell rang, and Mabel jumped. “Could one of you guys get that?” She yelled, wiping her sticky hands on her jeans. No one answered. Mabel shook her head, smiling. “Dummies.” The person knocked at the door again, louder. “Okay, okay,” she mumbled, trotting towards the front door. There was going to be sugar all over her clothes. Ugh.

She opened the door and blinked in surprise. It was a teenager, about her age. Mabel did a shocked double take-he was covered in mud, dirt, and grass stains. His clothing was ripped and frayed, and the leather of his shoes were creased and worn. He had a faded blue cloak held over one arm, and the other gripped the Shack’s wooden railing. His hair was a mess; dirty and mussed up in every direction possible. And he was pale. Really pale. Was it even possible for someone to be that pale? Maybe he’s a vampire! Dipper’s encountered them before, but I haven’t-

“Uhm, hi?” His voice, low and hoarse, cracked on the last word, and Mabel’s brows furrowed in concern. He really did not look okay. Maybe he was a runaway? A fugitive from the law? He moved his arm quickly to cover a stain or something-wait, was that blood? She inhaled sharply, her body tensing. This could be a problem. The man, as if noticing her tenseness, paled ever more.

Worry filled Mabel, and she spoke hesitantly, worry filling her voice. “Are you okay? You’re kind of pale…”

The man let out a sharp, nervous laugh, his large gray eyes flicking from side to side. “Yeah, well, I haven’t been in sunlight for a long time.”

Oh god, he was a fugitive. She cleared her throat, ready to assure the other that he would be safe at the Shack and that Mabel had, in fact, participated in various illegal activities with her family herself-when her phone started to vibrate against her leg. Glancing up at the man, she pulled her phone out of her sugar coated pocket and looked at the caller ID.

Paz.

Anger filled her, sudden and sharp, and she pressed the cancel button, and clenched the phone in her sticky, sugary fist. She really did not want to talk to Paz right now. Especially when this (possibly blood covered, fugitive vampire) stranger was asking her for help.

Said stranger was looking in the direction of her phone with confusion and anxiety. “What is that?”

Mabel fought back bemused laughter. How did he not know what a phone was? “It’s… a phone? You know, Apple? iPhone?”

The man shook his head, a horrified expression sliding across his face. “That’s no phone! Phones are huge and clunky- not anything like…” The man trailed off, the horrified expression making a comeback.

“W-what year is it?”

What’s he talking about? Unease filled Mabel, but she gave the man the answer. “It’s August 18th?”

The man shook his head, his long, chocolate colored hair flying around his chin. “No, the year.” Well, this was getting mildly alarming. Maybe she should call Bill over?

“It’s… 2015?”

The man started to shake, his face paling even further. It looked like all the blood had been drained from his face. “Oh my god,” he whispered, fingers trembling. “I’ve been in there for years!”

Mabel cautiously stepped forward, not wanting to startle the brunette. Be kind. “Do you need some help? My name’s Mabel, what’s yours?”

The man clutched the railing as he began to sway on his feet, his eyes seeing blankly into the space above Mabel’s shoulder. “I-I’m Wirt. I was lost.”

A nagging dread filled Mabel. Please let me be overthinking things. Please, let this be some amnesiac guy who can’t remember anything. “Where were you last, Wirt? You’re covered in-,” Horror struck her. “That’s blood, isn’t it?” Wirt just began to breathe shallowly, sweat beading along his forehead. Mabel so, so, so did not want to hear Wirt’s answer. She heard Wirt’s voice from far away as he crumpled to the worn wooden porch.

“The O-Other Side.”

His head made a hollow clunking noise as it hit the porch. Mabel spun where she stood, eyes wide. This was really bad. Her phone fell from her sticky hand and hit the floor. As she screamed for Bill and Dipper, she didn’t even hear the sound of shattering glass. “We have a slight problem guys, so stop making out and get over here!"

She knelt down next to Wirt’s prone figure and felt his forehead with the back of her hand. It was blazing, and worry mixed with her horror.

Footsteps alerted her to the presence of the two men, as did Bill’s sharp inhalation of breath. Dipper knelt beside Mabel, confusion etched on his face. “What-,”

Mabel cut him off. “He said that his name was Wirt, and that he’s from the Other Side.” Dipper turned slowly to face Bill. “Bill?”

The god jerked his head, motioning towards the door. “Bring him inside. He seems… normal.” He held open the door as the twins carried Wirt’s limp body through the door. Bill let the door shut behind him before he knelt beside the twins, who had placed Wirt on the couch.

“I have some explaining to do.”

A hundred miles away, a man woke up in his bed with a loud gasp, his movements startling the two frogs on the pillow next to him. They croaked indignantly and hopped off. Sliding out of bed, he padded over to the window and let the morning sun in. A strange feeling rose in his chest. He touched his chest with one hand. He felt whole again.

This could only mean one thing. Years of hoping had led to this moment.

It was possible. His brother was back, and somehow Greg could inexplicably feel it. He looked over to his dresser, where a tarnished, dented tin tea kettle lay. It was the first time that he could say his brother’s name in years without guilt swamping him. A childlike happiness rose inside him and the name bubbled out of his smiling mouth.

“Wirt…”

His brother was back. And Greg was going to find him.

Chapter Text

His puppet was out of his reach for now. He hadn’t expected such complications from mere mortals, and he hadn’t expected another god to have claimed territory on the land around the hole. He could not yet see which god had laid claim, but he could smell them, and it was familiar. On the tip of the tongue, as mortals said.

That, and his inability to get out of the borders around the town, infuriated him. He couldn’t use just any puppet. Oh no. He had to use his puppet, the special puppet, because the puppet had the spark. Only his puppet could get him out, and that puppet was unreachable. Growling, he paced in a circle, grass dying and freezing underneath his feet, despite the unnaturally hot and humid weather.

Everything about this side bothered him-the light, the surplus of mortals, and the gods everywhere, that walked as if they were invincible. He cast a look to his side, where the half eaten corpse of a minor god lay, golden ichor staining the soil and brush. Not as good meat or essence as a mortal, but it would sustain him. His shoulder stung from where the metal had hit him, and he growled again at the fact that his prey had evaded him. Drool slid to the ground as the memory of how the child had smelled filled his head. Gods wouldn’t do. He needed real food, real meat.

He’d get his puppet back later. For now, he needed puppets. Lots of puppets.

Lazy Susan was closing up the restaurant earlier than normal. It was not going well. “Dang teenagers, always making a mess,” she grumbled to herself as she mopped the syrup covered floor next to a recently vacated booth. Usually she didn’t mind closing up, but today was different. Her sister’s daughter was visiting, and she’d brought her three kids with her, two of whom were playing outside in the dusty parking lot. Susan didn’t really get to see them a lot, but when she did she made the most of it. She loved the kids.

She glanced up and out the window again just in time to see a-was it a man?-an unusually tall man pick up Sara, the younger of the two girls playing outside. The older, Rachel, screamed and started running towards the man. Susan’s eye widened and she raced outside as fast as possible, mop still in hand. It was an oddly dry and hot week in Gravity Falls and it caused dust from the parking lot to swirl around her, making it hard to see. And the daylight was fading rapidly, even though there were no clouds to cover the sun. “Hey!” She yelled over the screams of her nieces. “Who the heck think you are, and what are you doing with my kids?” The man stopped, and Susan realized with a start that this was not a man-nowhere near human.

Yellow eyes bulged out of eye sockets and thin black lips twisted into a lopsided grin. The thing was obsidian black, faded and wispy at the edges, almost as if it were made out of smoke. No, it was made out of smoke-and that smoke was sliding sinuously into both Rachel’s and Sara’s mouths, making their eyes roll and bodies convulse. Rage filled Susan, and she raised her mop menacingly. “Oh no you don’t! I’ve seen worse than you-heck, I’ve been turned into wood by a ghost and seen gnomes! Yeah, gnomes! So if you think you’re gonna take my kids, think again!”

She brought down the mop on the thing’s head, and the water flying from the mop hissed as it made tiny holes in the things body. Yellow eyes flashed at her, and a low, guttural growl exited from its mouth. Susan’s mouth fell open as it spoke. Its voice was masculine in tone, smooth like silk. “I’ll be taking this one. I need extras, extra puppets. Just in case. I need to collect puppets.” Sara was limp in its arms, and with a start Susan saw that little vines were curling themselves around the little girl’s wrists. Rachel, however, was untouched but unconscious on the gritty gravel. Susan stepped forward to hit the thing again, but it moved faster than Susan could map with her one good eye, and before she knew it she was lying on the ground staring up at the cerulean sky, her head ringing with the sound of only one of her nieces breathing. Something wet hit her lip, and Susan touched her fingers to it and pulled away. Blood. Head and back aching, she slowly stood up. I need a phone. I need to phone the police. She staggered towards the restaurant, but she never made it to the front door. Pain ripped through her, and she looked down at her side. Blood was dripping through the ragged hole in her white apron, and beside her stood… “Sara?” Her niece smiled up at her, her teeth oddly pointed. “Bye-bye!”

Black spots filled her vision, and Susan hit the ground, blood leaking from the hole in her side. Sara stood over her, now clawed hands covered in blood. The little girl looked at it curiously with yellow eyes, pupils dilating. She giggled, and kicked up the dust as she ran back to the forest, back to her friend. Whatever he said was good, and whatever she asked he would do. A song from her favourite movie came into the little girl’s head, and she hummed it cheerfully as she walked into the woods. “I’ve got no strings…” Her friend took her hand, and smiled. He was so nice.

“Let’s go play, Sara.”

The trees bent over themselves and blocked the path behind the two.

The sun fell through the dusty window and warmed Dipper’s bare ankles to the point where the heat was becoming uncomfortable. Letting out a sigh, he moved his legs to the other side of the beat up recliner and looked over at Bill. “You said you’d explain. So talk.” Mabel made a noise of assent as she adjusted the pillow under the man’s- Wirt’s- head. Wirt was still out cold, sitting on Grunkle Stan’s disgusting couch, his head lolling to the side. The god let out a sharp exhale and sat down next to Dipper on the recliner, which was not meant to hold two people. Not that Dipper was complaining, however. Not at all. Almost as if hearing his quickening heartbeat, Bill looked over at him, the planes of his face awash in golden sunlight. Dipper could see the dust motes floating in the sunbeam, and he could see that Bill had a mole at the corner of his eye, which he hadn’t noticed before…

Dipper realized with a start that he was moving closer to Bill, and pulled himself back. There’s a time and a place, Pines, He told himself firmly, and right now you need to get to the bottom of this. “A-Anyways…?” The brunette prompted, blushing slightly at the toothy grin Bill shot at him.

Said man dropped the grin and cast a look over at the prone figure on the couch. “Anyways, as I’ve already explained to Pine Tree, this town is one of the few places with a thin layer between here and there- and before you say anything Shooting Star, I’m getting there, so don’t interrupt me with pointless questions and remarks like your brother did.” He ignored the withering glares the twins gave him and went on. “Basically, there’s a barrier between reality, and what most call the Other Side. You humans call it ‘death’, or even ‘hell’, but those descriptions fall short of what it really is.” The god’s expression darkened, and despite the warmth that surrounded him, Dipper couldn’t stop the shiver that raced up his spine.

“But… if that’s our equivalent of death or hell or whatever, how come Wirt was able to go in?” Mabel said, cupping her hands around her (new) mug of tea.

“As I said before, it’s like there’s a barrier, or veil, between here and the Other Side. Some spots around the world have thinner spots or holes in the veil that allows people in, but very rarely do they leave. On the other hand, the holes also allow creatures and beings from the Other Side to come through to here.”

Dipper blinked. He had never thought to ask before, but did Bill come from the Other Side? “Bill, when I found you, why were you nailed to the tree?”

Bill’s expression soured. “I’m not the most powerful god out there, Pine Tree. There are even a few beasts that I would rather run from than stay and fight with. That’s not important right now, though.” Catching Dipper’s scowl, he rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you about me later, okay?” Dipper nodded.

Bill nodded at Wirt. “So, this kid is from the Other Side. He doesn’t seem like he’s anything other than human, but you can never tell. I can’t See anything wrong with him, but I’ve been wrong before. Like I said before, very rarely do humans find a way out. Not all beings make deals with others like I do, or uphold them, for that matter.”

Mabel nodded slowly. “And this has something to do with that kid from my tour group almost being snatched?” Bill shrugged, his shoulder brushing Dippers. “It seems plausible. Some demons or sentient beings use the souls of children as energy or even the children themselves.”

“That’s… gross.”

“Not as gross as some of the other things I’ve seen, Shooting Star!”

“Nothing is grosser than eating kids, Bill.”

“Oh, I’ve seen lots of things, Star! Like this one time I watching these three guys trying to sacrifice this goat for one of my god friends, but she didn’t like it, because who sacrifices goats anymore? Too messy! So she came down personally and she took this guy by the neck and just twisted, and his brains started to leak out of his ears and nose and his intestines, oh man-“

“Yup, that’s fantastic. Great. I’m gonna throw up my tea. Thanks, Bill.” Mabel pulled a face and set her mug onto the chipped oak table in the centre of the room, a perturbed expression on her face. “You have a super great boyfriend, Dip. A real catch.”

Dipper smirked, picking at a loose thread on his t-shirt. “Don’t worry, Mabel. I’m just using him for all the gold he has buried all over town.”

“Hey!”

“Better not let Grunkle Stan know about that gold when he and Ford come home, brobro. He’ll take it all as soon as he finds out. Ford isn’t much better either…”

“Seriously, Shooting Star?”

Mabel smirked at Bill, brown eyes sparkling. “You better be able to take backtalk from me soon, otherwise Wendy will tear you to shreds.”

Bill frowned slightly, one corner of his mouth pulling downwards. “Wendy?”

Mabel cast a sly look over at Dipper before speaking. “Wendy’s our childhood friend. We came here every summer from middle school to the end of high school, and we’d usually hang out and do stupid teenage stuff together. She’s been working up north for a logging company for the past two years though, and she’ll be coming back here for a couple weeks.”

The god shrugged, absentmindedly rolling balls of blue flame over his knuckles as he spoke. “She sounds fine.” Mabel shot another discreet look at her brother, grinning evilly as he frantically made the cut it off motion with his hand and neck. “Yeah, she’s pretty fine. Dipper thought so too, which is why he co-mfph!” She pulled Dippers hand off of her mouth and scrunched up her face. “Your palm tastes gross, Dip.”

Dipper glared at her and turned his attention over to Bill. It was just as Dipper had feared-the god was tense and his face may as well have been carved out of marble. Another thing to add to my notebook, Dipper thought. Bill gets crazy weird and possessive. Mabel, not expecting such a reaction out of the god, winced. Oops, she mouthed apologetically at her brother. My bad. Dipper tried not to fidget as a weird kind of tension filled the room, making his heart race and palms sweat. “Bill?” He said tentatively, reaching out with one hand.

“Did you two date?” Bill’s voice was dark and gravelly, and despite the million other things Dipper had to worry about, the tone of Bill’s voice made his head spin.

The brunette licked his lips nervously. “No, we didn’t. I was twelve and she was fifteen. It was a long time ago.”

He met Bill’s eyes and tried not to blush at the message in them. You’re mine, as well as we are talking about this later.

Bill leaned in slowly towards Dipper, and despite the fact that his sister was across the room trying not to vomit at their PDA, he leaned towards the god eagerly. Bill apparently didn’t have any sense of shame, even though this was completely inappropriate and that this wasn’t the time for such things-

A high pitched, keening noise filled the room and both Mabel and Dipper clapped their hands over their ears, flinching. Bill just raised an eyebrow and stood up off of the recliner, dusting his hands off on his jeans. Dipper realized with a start that the noise was somehow coming from Wirt.

“Stop that,” Bill said harshly. “It’s annoying.” Wirt closed his mouth and blinked as if to make sure he was actually awake. “S-sorry, I didn’t-,”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mabel said. “I’d be doing that too if I woke up in a strangers house. We brought you inside after you passed out on the front porch. I’m Mabel, remember? And that dork is my little brother Dipper-

“We’re twins, Mabel. Twins. Two or three minutes do not really make you older.”

“-my little, tiny baby brother Dipper, and that’s his boyfriend, Bill.”

Dipper glared at Mabel, and Bill glared at Wirt. Wirt swallowed nervously and looked down at his chewed up nails. Mabel stood up. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to get Wirt a glass of water.”

“Thanks,” Wirt whispered as Mabel left the room. “I’m-,”

“Who are you, and how did you get out of the Other Side?” Dipper cut in eagerly, scooting off of the recliner and sitting down on the floor next to the other man.

Wirt blanched. “I-,” He stopped talking abruptly as Bill moved to sit next to Dipper his eyes mapping the blondes movements. “I- I don’t know who you are, any of you! Why should I be telling you anything? I- I need to find my brother, his name is Greg, we both live in-,” Bill held up a hand, and Wirt paused.

The god lowered his hand and sighed. “Listen, kid. We’ve been having problems with some sort of creature from the Other Side. It almost took a kid on Shooting Stars-,” Mabel handed a glass of water to Wirt, and he nodded thankfully, gulping the water down. “- on Shooting Star’s tour today. Also, I just want to know how the hell a mortal got out of the Other Side alive, because in my entire existence, I’ve never met one who has, until now. Apparently.”

“Please, Wirt,” Mabel said, reaching over and putting her hand on top of his. “I know that you must have literally been through hell, and I know that time has passed and that you want to find your family and friends. And we’ll help you-,”

“We will?” Bill muttered sourly, folding his arms and looking at Wirt with suspicion.

Mabel glared at him. “-we’ll help you find them, we promise. But we need to know how you got out, and how you got in. What did you do in there?” Mabel added, looking down at his stained and definitely blood splattered shirt. Wirt looked down at the worn brown rug, his face reddening- not with anger but with shame.

“I don’t know.”

Dipper and Bill exchanged a glance. Dipper scooted a little closer to Wirt. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Wirt shook his head twice, hands balling up. “It means that I don’t know. I can’t remember. Some things I remember, but mostly it’s a blank, holes in my memory. Everything during that time was so foggy.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Everyone froze. “Were you expecting anyone today?” Dipper whispered to Mabel, who nodded. Bill bristled and stood up, blue balls of flame creeping out from the holes in his hands. Wirt’s eyes widened and he gasped as Bill turned to look at him, his visible eye glowing blue.

Wirt began to shake. “He’s one of them? You let one of them live with you?” Wirt turned to Dipper, horror on his face. “You do know why he was impris-,”

A low and familiar voice came from the hallway, slightly muffled by the door but recognizable nonetheless. “Sheriff Blubs here! Is anyone home?” Mabel let out a sigh of relief and stood up, hiding her shaking hands in her jean pockets. Dipper stood up as well, and the twins opened the door for the sheriff.

“What’s up, Blubs?” Mabel said, forcing a smile onto her face. That smile, however, fell just as quickly as the sheriff spoke.

“We need your help. Something killed Lazy-Susan, and took one of her relative’s children. We’ve got nothing, and since you and Dipper have more experience with the supernatural-,”

“Do you want us to come down now?” Dipper said, voice trembling.

Blubs nodded.

Inside, Bill turned away from the door and stared the shorter man down. “You and I are going to have a talk.” Wirt shuddered.

“They don’t know, do they? Why you were imprisoned.”

Bill smiled a predator’s smile, his voice soft and velvety. “And they’re not going to find out, unless you want to be dead. You tell them anything, drop any hints- I’ll know.”

Wirt shook his head. “You’re a monster. You can’t do this- you can’t play with people like they’re toys. They’ll find out eventually, but it’ll be too late! By then, you’ll have-,”

Bill reached out and gripped Wirt’s forearm. “You will say nothing,” Bill snarled, his tone darkening.

Wirt jerked his arm away and rubbed it. He nodded once, his motions jerky.

Bill was-Bill-this changed everything.

He needed to get away as soon as possible, and find Greg.

Chapter Text

Greg’s classes were cancelled for the day-something about backed up toilets? Not that Greg was complaining, after all. It gave him an extra day to go to the nearest café, piggy-back on their free Wi-Fi, and (futilely) search for his brother, as he had been doing every day he had off.

Wirt was back. How could he explain it? Since the night Greg had broken the surface of the pond, screaming bloody murder, there had been a sense of absence. A deep, gaping hole lingered inside of him that he could feel at night in bed, playing Wirt’s clarinet mixtapes to break the silence, or when he stumbled across a pack of half used reeds or a crumpled jumper. It was bearable, but just. It was like a weight across his shoulders. No, it had been like a weight across his shoulders. Because Saturday night, Greg had woken up with that hole gone-not like it had been filled up, but like the hole had never been there in the first place. The feeling of rightness was so present it had been all Greg could do to not cry.

He had gone to his mother first, wondering if she had had the same experience as he had. His mother had looked at him with a mix of surprise and pity when he had brought up the idea of Wirt being not dead. “Sweetie,” his mother had whispered, gently reaching out and holding Greg’s hand. “You’re twenty three, and it’s been a long time since Wirt died-,”

“Disappeared,” Greg had said firmly, ears beginning to burn with frustration. It wouldn’t have been possible to explain the world over the garden wall without his parents taking him in for some serious time with the shrink.

Greg had been to enough therapists to last a lifetime.

His mother’s expression had stayed the same save for the tightening around her eyes. “Okay. It’s been a long time since Wirt disappeared, and maybe it’s time for you to let go. I miss him too, you know, but I can’t go on hoping.” Her lip had wobbled, and Greg had dropped his head along with the conversation, trying to ignore the glassy sheen the unshed tears had spread over her eyes. And that had been that.

It could have gone worse, Greg thought, shoving a steaming strawberry Pop-Tart into his mouth as he grabbed Jason Funderberker Jr. off of his appointed spot on the counter and gently placed him in his coat pocket. Molasses croaked from her cage. “Sorry, Mo, not today. Today is JJ’s turn to go out.” Greg said to the pouty frog gently. Molasses harrumphed and hopped inside her hutch. But really, his discussion with his mother honestly could have been so much worse.

She could have taken me to another shrink.

His parents had been very alarmed when their seven year old son had begun to stubbornly insist that their other son was stuck in a different world, and asking if could they ‘please phone the police and send them over the garden wall to get him back?’. So started the long line of psychoanalyzing and doctors.

Greg loved his mother, but he hadn’t minded moving out to his own cottage on the outskirts of town. After Wirt’s ‘death’, she had become almost obsessed with keeping Greg safe, as if she were trying to compensate for not being to keep Wirt safe. The fit she had had when Greg had announced he was moving out had been memorable, to say the least.

Jamming his feet into his boots, he hastily stepped outside and locked his door behind him, hissing through the Pop-Tart as the pastry burned his tongue. The day was darker and hotter than usual, followed by a strange, dry wind that seemed to curl itself around Greg’s ears and slither down the back of his neck. Repressing a shudder, he pulled his coat tighter around himself and fumbled in his pocket for the car keys.

He unlocked the driver door, wincing as flakes of rust fluttered to the road. I really should scrap Janice… Jason Jr. croaked in alarm from Greg’s coat. “Yeah, you’re right. I’d never. I love Janice too much.” He patted the worn steering wheel before turning on the ignition. Janice coughed feebly once or twice before grudgingly coming to life with an indignant sputter. Greg sighed, rubbing his bleary eyes with one hand as he pulled out of his driveway.

Jason Jr. shifted in Greg’s coat pocket, and with another loud sigh, Greg pulled the frog out of his coat and gently placed him into the passenger seat. “I know it’s stupid to think he’s back, but I can feel it, you know?” Jason looked up at him, throat gently pulsing.

“Yeah, you think I’m nutso too, right? Everyone else thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am crazy. Who knows? At least I’m not homicidal.”

Jason Jr. gave a great wallump of alarm as something large and rather human shaped slammed into his bumper and rolled over the windshield, spider-webbing the glass with cracks. Greg screamed and twisted the wheel, rolling off of the road and into the leafy foliage along the side of the road. “Oh my god! I am homicidal! I just killed somebody oh my god!” Greg pocketed Jason Jr., glad he had thought to install a miniature seatbelt for the frog. It had been worth the money and the weird stares. But what was he doing pondering over frog seatbelts? He had probably just killed somebody. The taste of synthetic Pop-Tart sugar lingered in his mouth still as he unlocked the door.

He scrambled through the passenger side, falling onto the ground with an ungainly umph. He staggered over to the lump lying prone in the middle of the road. Everything was blurry- had he hit his head? Was he concussed and going blind?

“Oh my stars it is a person I just killed somebody oh no oh no oh no-,”

“Ugh.”

“Oh my goodness you aren’t dead thank goodness I thought I killed you are you broken anywhere? I’m so sorry-,”

“I’m fine, I’ve been through worse!”

Greg blinked as the person sat up, groaning as they did. “These yours?” Greg squinted. “Glasses,” the person prompted. Oh. So he wasn’t concussed, or going blind.

“Thanks,” Greg said somewhat shamefully, slipping the glasses on and blinking. The person was a she, and despite several bloody scratches and already forming bruises, she seemed fine. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you-what were you doing around here? There’s just my house, and then the forest…”

The woman scrunched up her face as she rubbed at a scrape, freckles colliding with one another over the bridge of her nose. “I was going to go climb some of the huge oak trees and do some training, but I think my ankle is sprained.” Greg couldn’t tell if the woman was joking or not.

She reached down and poked at her tightly laced boot with her right hand. “Ow. Yup.” She turned to where Janice was sitting on the side of the road. “Mind if I hitch a ride to town? Looked like that was where you were going behind we ran into each other.”

Greg nodded, dazed. He had expected more anger. “O-of course! It’s the least I can do for hitting you-,”

“Dude! I think I did more damage to the car than it did to me!” the woman said wonderingly, limping over to the passenger seat, looking at the cracked glass. Greg noted that this was, in fact, true. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve taken out flying eyeballs. I can pay for the windshield, you know,” she said, running a hand through her waist length auburn hair.

“No, it’s perfectly fine,” Greg said, opening the side doors, trying to figure out if the whole ‘floating eyeballs’ thing was a joke or not. He paused. “You don’t mind sitting in the back, do you? The seatbelt up front definitely wouldn’t fit you.”

The woman shrugged, agilely slipping into the back seat despite only using one leg. “No problem. She peeked up over the seat as Greg walked around to the driver’s side. “Who’s the tiny seatbelt for?” Greg swallowed and pulled Jason Jr. out of his pocket, untangling the many cords that kept the frog safely out of harm’s way and clicking them into their appropriate places. His cheeks began to burn. Oh man, she’s going to be so weirded out by this.

“Duuude! Is that a seatbelt for a frog? Oh man, that is awesome!”

Or… not.

“I know someone who has a pet pig, and she treats it like a real person, I swear. And she has this baby harness she carries the pig around in. Cool, right?” The woman grinned, stray auburn pieces of hair coming out from under a blue and white baseball cap.

Greg blinked, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. “Pretty cool,” Greg affirmed, coaxing Janice to life.

They drove in silence for a couple minutes, the woman staring out the window at the blurred green scenery. Greg looked at her in the overhead mirror, and realized with a start that she was bleeding. “Um, your leg-,”

She looked down. “What? Oh, sorry. Don’t want to get blood all over the floor.” With a practiced ease, she ripped off the sleeves of her flannel shirt and tied it around her leg. Greg was impressed. He had never met anyone as odd as her in a long, long time.

“So,” the woman said. “What’s the frog’s name?”

“Jason Funderberker Jr.”

“Why junior?”

“His dad had the same name. He died two years ago.” Greg blinked quickly, trying quell the sadness rising up inside of him. Jason Funderberker had been more than special. Was it possible for animals and people to be soulmates? Jason Funderberker had been his best friend. He hoped there was, because otherwise he was crazy for having cried so much after the old frog had passed away peacefully in his sleep. “I have another frog, too. Her name is Molasses, mostly because she’s so slow.”

A slow, lazy smile spread over the woman’s face. “Sick. Hey, I never got to ask your name. What is it?”

Greg smiled. “I’m Greg Halberd.”

“Wendy Corduroy!” Wendy said, her nose (and by default, her freckles) crinkling distractingly as she smiled. Why it was distracting, Greg didn’t know. Some things just were, and Greg didn’t want to question it. He pushed that errant train of thought to the back of his mind. The drive with Wendy Corduroy went by surprisingly quickly, filled with oddly comfortable chatter.

“What’s your best friend like?” Greg said, popping a stick of gum into his mouth. Wendy reached over and grabbed the packet, taking one for herself.

“Freaky smart. Pretty introverted, but he’s a fantastic friend. I’m visiting him and his sister for two weeks next week.” Wendy tapped the faded blue pine tree on her hat, smiling. “Your turn, Greg. Weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten?”

“Potatoes and molasses, for sure.”

“…What does that even taste like?”

“It’s indescribable. Like manna from heaven. Biggest animal that’s ever attacked you?”

“A unicorn attacked me. I beat it up.”

“Very funny.” Greg rolled his eyes.

He caught her frown in the overhead mirror. “Greg, do you believe in the supernatural?”

Greg’s heart began to beat a little bit faster, and he clutched the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. He was going too fast. He should probably slow down. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I do.” Wendy didn’t miss his tightening fingers, and she didn’t miss his tensed shoulders.

“Have you… ever had an experience with the supernatural?”

Greg met her eyes through the mirror and smiled wryly. “Yeah.”

“What was it?”

“It’s a long story. The shortened version is that my brother and I went into some other world, and I’m the only one who came out. I thought he was still alive, and now I know he is because I woke up last week and I could just feel it. And I have no idea how to search for him, and vice versa, because we’ve moved and changed names so many times that even I get confused sometimes.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I hit you with my car, and I don’t even know you and now I’m talking about my brother who may or may not be dead.”

“Right here.”

“What?”

“Turn right here.”

Greg complied, mentally slapping himself for talking about his problems to some poor woman he’d barely known longer than twenty minutes-at most. I’m such an idiot. Oh well. At least after today, I won’t see her again. Focusing his gaze on the road, he realized that it was familiar. Actually, it was the same stupidly dangerous and windy gravel road he drove up four times a week for his courses at LWU-“You live on campus.” More of a statement than a question.

Wendy nodded, a contemplative look on her face. Stars, he really had to stop jinxing himself. “I’m in the Oak dorm. Right next to Pine,” she added, snorting a little bit.

Greg maneuvered around the sewage cleaning trucks and cars and pulled into the small parking lot reserved for dorm students. “Need help getting to the door?”

Wendy shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I’m a Corduroy.” She opened the door, then paused. “Hey, want to exchange numbers? I’d like to talk again before I leave next week.”

Was this happening? Was she interested? In him? He shouldn’t read into it at all. No, that was overreacting. How old was she anyways? What if she was like only seventeen and he was thinking about an illegal relationship, oh gosh he was such a terrible person, when was the last time he had kissed somebody? It had been three years ago, with Daniel Jackson at Ellen Friar’s New Year’s party and why was he thinking about kissing, oh god he was so gross-

“Greg?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, numbers. Phone. Got it.”

They exchanged numbers, Greg stammering like an idiot and Wendy obliviously waving him goodbye as he drove out of the parking lot like hell itself was nipping at Janice’s tires. Jason Jr. croaked in what Greg could only assume was either you are stupid! or nice one, Greg..

“Be quiet, you,” Greg muttered, fastidiously keeping his eyes on the road as he drove to the small, locally owned coffee shop that had terrible coffee but fantastic donuts and free Wi-Fi. He parked along the street, carefully avoiding any fire hydrants or signs. After slipping Jason Jr. into his pocket (“Be quiet, okay? We don’t want a repeat of last time…”) he locked Janice and tried to ignore the strange looks passerby were giving his mangled car. I should probably take her in for repair… the repair probably costs more than Janice is worth… “Like I’m going to get rid of her,” he muttered to himself.

The small bell on the door jingled cheerfully as he stepped inside, letting the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baking pastries fill his lungs. Stepping up to the counter, he ordered a medium coffee with a shot of espresso (God, it was always terrible, so why did he keep ordering it?) and two chocolate donuts. He settled down at a secluded booth, pulled out his phone, and opened his texting app.

[Wendy is typing.]

Greg let out a high pitched squeak, throwing the phone at the padded booth opposite him. The waitress working at the counter gave him a suspicious look as he sheepishly bent down and picked it up from where it had bounced onto the floor.

Wendy: ok so about the whole supernatural thing with your brother

Wendy: i think i know somebody who can help you w/ finding him

Greg’s heart leapt into his throat, and he fumbled with his phone in his haste to reply.

You: who? where do they live? do you have their contact information? how????

Wendy: cool your jets, dude. that best friend i mentioned? he’s kinda the expert on the supernatural.

Wendy: he saved us from the near apocalypse a couple years back. long story.

You: when can I meet him? where does he live? CONTACT INFORMATION??????

You: ????!???!?

Wendy: believe it or not, he doesn’t have a phone. i can give you his sister’s # tho

Wendy: actually...

You: ?

Wendy: this might sound dumb but i’m going up there next week, if you wanted to tag along you could probably come

You: when do I start to pack

Wendy: sick! i leave on friday morning with my friend i can leave you instructions if you want

Wendy: sry no room in the van of doom :,(

You: that’s fine just give me the instructions and tell me what to bring and i’ll meet you there.

You: What’s this place called anyways? Where is it?

Wendy: bout an eight hour drive from here. in oregon. called gravity falls

Greg decided not to comment on the wordplay of the town’s name.

You: thank you so much. you have no idea how much this means to me

Wendy: i think i do. no prob greg

Greg leaned his elbows on the solid wood of the booth, hands tangled in his wavy brown hair. “Oh my gosh,” he breathed. “I have a decent chance now.” Jason Jr. croaked in a very heck yes! or perhaps finally! way. Greg couldn’t stop the stupidly large grin spreading across his face. “I can find my brother again!” He laughed, exhilarated. He stood up, ignoring the coffee and donuts. “What day is it?” He called out to the grumpy waitress.

She raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Thursday?”

“Oh my stars, she’s leaving tomorrow!” Grabbing his phone, he threw a twenty on the booth and ran out the door, leaving the coffee to sit on the table in a rather forlorn way.

“C’mon, JJ!” He grinned, buckling the frog into his seat. “We have packing to do!” Going up to meet with a person you’ve known for only twenty minutes was never a good idea, but- “Good ideas be damned!” Greg shouted, pressing down on the gas. “I can find Wirt!”

Greg honestly hadn’t believed in miracles until this moment.

He watched from the eyes of the woman.

A new development. After all these years, he could still smell the same scent coming off of the man’s skin. He still glowed. The boy had completed all of his tasks, and yet here he was, not dead. Neither was the other. This would change. Soon. He watched as the boy drove away, clipping the side mirror of another car and setting off the car alarm. The boy did not slow down.

Soon. Soon, there would be more puppets. More fun.There was liquid on the table. He was not able to consume it. He drew nutrition in a way different from the mortals.

He needed power.

More power. He left the woman, feeling the pressure of the gate closing in around him. He was trapped inside the gates of the town. His body was. Not his mind. His mind, it was freer. But not free.

He would break them.

But now, he had to wait.