Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

      Dipper Pines didn’t remember waking up. Despite this, the chill seeping into his bare feet as he walked the darkened halls of his family home felt all too real to be a dream. Perhaps he had woken up from sleepwalking in the middle of the night—just another concern on his growing list of problems. But he was almost an adult now, he didn’t want to worry his parents any more than they’d already endured. So he wrapped his arms around himself and stumbled through the dark towards he and his sister’s bedroom. 

      His vision was fuzzy in the darkness, he could barely make out the shapes of doorways and rooms around him. Dipper wished his dreaming self had had the sense to bring a candle from his room with him. Then, a crack of lightning outside lit up the windows, sending streaks of pale light slicing haphazardly across the walls and chairs and picture frames. Dipper flinched. His breath quickened, and it was deafening in the sudden silence. 

      The shadows began to writhe. 

      “No, no, no, no...” Dipper muttered to himself with rising panic. He’d seen this before, and knew what came next.

      With a hand outstretched to guide him, he quickly darted down the twisting hallway, dark corners looming out as if to grab him. The hall seemed to stretch longer than usual. He should have reached their door by now, it should be right here!

      Lightning flashed once more, lighting up the walls. Hundreds of thin, spindly black arms reached through the shadows towards him. Dipper screamed. Finally, he saw the door to his bedroom outlined in the darkness. He fell upon it and threw it open, slamming it shut behind him as he felt the tiny hands clawing at the back of his night shirt. 

      Dipper ran to his bed and fell into it. With a loud bang, he yanked the drawer of his nightstand open. He scooped up a pack of matches and quickly struck one, igniting a tiny orange glow, the little flame flickering with his panicked breaths. 

      “Mmgh, Dipper...?” Mabel sat up, rubbing at her half-shut eyes. “What’s going on?”

      “Mabel,” Dipper breathed her name like a prayer. 

      If he was about to say anything to her, the words died in his throat when he saw slitted eyes staring at them from the dark corners of their room, barely visible. Dozens of them, golden and unblinking. 

      “D-Do you see that?” Dipper whimpered. 

      “See what?”

      Dipper hissed in pain as the match burned out against his fingertips. His shaking fingers quickly struck another. He looked sideways at his sister and gasped. The inky black shadow of some great beast with clawed hands reared up behind her. Dipper leapt from his bed and seized her arm, pulling her from the mattress to the floor between them. The tiny light managed to make the darkness recoil with an unearthly howl.

      “Dipper, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me!” Mabel cried. He put an arm around her trembling shoulders protectively. 

      Then the cackling started, loud and grating and coming from all directions. Dipper winced. It continued getting louder and louder, until it seemed the laughter was inside his skull trying to break out. This time when the match burnt out and dropped from his grip, Dipper’s hands flew to cover his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut.

      “You don't hear that?!” he yelled. 

      Mabel wasn’t listening anymore. She was swept up in a fit of laughter. Her whole body shook. Dipper watched, horrified, as a grin spread across her face. 

      “You've lost your mind, Mason Pines!” The voice that came out of her mouth wasn't hers. 

      “Gghhk—!” Dipper’s hands flew up to his throat, where Mabel was squeezing as hard as she could. He choked and gasped, but no air found his lungs. She was strangling him to death. 

      Dipper clawed at her arms, drawing blood with his fingernails. He kicked at her, he ripped out some of her hair. Her iron grip didn’t relent, and that wide smile never faltered. He angled himself to press his feet against her chest and pushed her away enough to wedge his fingers in between her hands and his windpipe. He sucked in a shallow breath. 

      “Get off!” 

      With one great push, he threw Mabel off of him. Her head struck the wooden nightstand and she collapsed to the floor. Dipper held his throat, focusing on taking in wheezing breaths. Tears ran down his face. 

      Lantern light filled the room. 

      “Mason—?” His mother’s voice cut out into a horrified gasp. 

      Blood poured from Mabel’s head, creeping across the floorboards and soaking her long hair. Dipper’s body went rigid. His father barreled into the room and rushed past him, scooping Mabel into his arms. Her eyelids fluttered and she groaned. 

      “Mabel!” Dipper’s heart leapt. She was alive.

      His father’s burning eyes turned on him. “What the hell did you do?!” 

      Dipper shrunk back. “I... I don’t know, I thought...” He glanced around their perfectly normal room. “I was having a nightmare again—”

      “These God forsaken nightmares!” his mother shrieked. “You almost killed your sister!” 

      “There is something wrong with you, boy,” his father snarled. “I won’t have it under my roof any longer.” Dipper’s heart plummeted. His father’s attention shifted to his wife. “I need to wake the doctor.” Without another word, he lifted Mabel in his arms and dashed out of the room. Dipper’s gaze lingered on the droplets of blood trailing across the floor in his wake.

      “Wh...What did he mean by that?” A new kind of fear sank into his chest, cold and creeping. He looked to his mother with pleading eyes. She recoiled from him, clutching her skirts with a look of fear across her face. Dipper’s mouth went dry. 

      “We’ve already sent word,” she said when Dipper fell silent. “You're going to stay with your Great Uncle.” 

—

      Dipper’s head rocked in time with each bump of the road. He stared out the small carriage window, watching pine trees taller than he’d ever seen go by. The deeper into the forest they traveled, the stronger Dipper’s sense of dread became. He glanced at the empty cushioned seat across from him, tightening a hand into a fist. It didn’t feel right to be away from Mabel. His parents sent him away before he could even speak to her again. The looks in their eyes... It was as if Dipper had a devil living in his skin and was no longer their son. They ignored all of his desperate pleadings, there was nothing he could say. Doctors nor priests have been able to do anything for him, so the last thing they could do was send him away to some relative Dipper had never heard of. He supposed it was better than being locked away in an asylum for lunatics.

      Dipper snapped out of his thoughts as a large building came into view. The horses slowed, the carriage crawled to a stop. 

      The driver pulled the door open and Dipper stepped out, hauling a large trunk full of his belongings at his side. The sky above was dark and gloomy, just the same as the looming mansion before him. Overgrown ivy crawled up the walls and over darkened windows, weeds covered the walkways, and paint peeled off windowsills. Beneath the shadow of this old building, Dipper felt very, very small. 

      Dipper startled when reins cracked against the horses’ hides and the carriage pulled away, leaving him behind. He turned back towards the mansion and slowly inhaled the cool, pine-scented air. Dragging his trunk behind him, Dipper approached the large front doors of the mansion, thick and carved of dark wood. Anxiously, he smoothed out his button-up and trousers, and gave a timid knock on the door. He hissed under his breath at the pathetic sound that came to his ears, so he knocked once more, with some strength behind it. The noise echoed through the hollow house and he shifted his weight. After what felt like ages, soft footsteps thudded on the other side, and the door opened outwards with a great creeeak. 

      Dipper blinked. 

      A girl stood in the doorway dressed like a male servant, but her figure and long red hair was unmistakable. She was surprisingly tall, gazing down at him with a severe look on her face. 

      “Um,” Dipper’s voice was small, “Dip—Mason Pines.” He held out his hand to shake. 

      The servant girl ignored him, instead stepping aside and declaring forebodingly, “Welcome to the estate of Stanford Pines.” Dipper’s face must have paled, because the girl saw his terrified expression and barked out a laugh, dropping the spooky demeanor. “I’m just messing with you. Here, let me get that for you!” 

      Dipper was too stunned to speak, and gladly let her take the handle of his trunk from him and lift it over the threshold. 

      “Um, thank you,” Dipper said. He stepped inside. She shut the heavy doors behind them with a thud, then picked his trunk up and walked into the huge foyer with a purpose. Dipper hurried to follow. 

      “You got here pretty quick! Mister Pines is expecting you, though.” The girl spoke cheerfully. Dipper was glad for her filling the silence. He took the time to look around.

      The interior was just as gloomy as the outside, with barely any lamps lit at all, and peeling dark wallpaper of deep blues and purples. Dipper peered into several rooms as they passed, finding apparitions of various pieces of furniture covered in white sheets. Old mahogany clocks and dressers and overflowing bookshelves lined the walls, along with various strange trinkets and diagrams Dipper had never seen the likes of before.

      “I’ll take this up to your room,” the girl said. She motioned to a large door that was open just a crack. “Your old man’s in there, go on!” 

      “I didn’t catch your name,” Dipper stopped her. She turned back with a smile.

      “Name’s Wendy! Good to meet you, Dipmason Pines.” She gave a playful wink.

      Dipper smiled. “Thank you, Wendy.” 

      “Don’t mention it.” She disappeared up a set of stairs, lifting the trunk easily as to not damage the carpets, leaving Dipper alone once more. He reluctantly approached the door, listening in the dead air. He heard the idle ticking of several clocks, and a shuffling of papers.

      Well, Dipper thought, I can’t put this off forever. Dipper steeled himself and knocked on the door. There was a beat of silence as the sound of papers paused.

      “Enter,” said a deep, gruff voice. 

      “Uh, hello sir,” Dipper said as he pushed the door open and stepped gingerly inside. The room appeared to be an office; a large ornate desk as the centerpiece, and a tall stained glass window behind it, casting dim daylight from the overcast sky. The other walls were lined with bookshelves filled to the brim. A large man sat behind the desk, watching Dipper behind reflective glasses with his one good eye, the other a damaged milky white. A mop of gray hair sat atop his head, not unlike Dipper’s own curls. The entire surface of his desk was covered in scattered papers and bound leather journals. 

      “Sit. Please.” His Great Uncle motioned to a cushioned reading chair in front of the desk. “You look younger than I pictured.” Dipper didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t. The older man cleared his throat. “I hope the train ride here wasn’t too disagreeable.” 

      “No, sir. It was fine.” Mostly true. The view of forests and hills and prairies rushing past was a wonder for the first few hours, but sitting for so long made his legs stiff, and the rattling of the metal gave him a headache. It was impossible to get a lick of sleep, he was exhausted. Not to mention being completely alone, traveling miles and miles away from the only home and family he’d ever known. Dipper forced a half-hearted smile. 

      “Your parents wrote to me that you are having issues with night terrors,” the man said. The dark circles under Dipper’s eyes were a clear sign of the months of torment and terrible sleep he’d been getting as of late. His Great Uncle folded his large hands in front of his face, looking troubled. Dipper’s eyes widened. 

      “Your hands...” he mumbled, before clamping his mouth shut. “I apologize sir, that was rude.” 

      His Great Uncle peered down at his own hands, six fingers on each. There were many things today Dipper had seen or experienced for the first time, but this was by far the most jarring. 

      “Not at all,” he said. “And you don’t need to call me Sir, young man. My name is Stanford Pines—or Ford, if you prefer. Pleasure to meet you, Mason.” He held out his hand to Dipper.

      Dipper didn’t hesitate to reach across the desk and shake his hand. A hint of a smile graced his Great Uncle’s face for a fleeting moment. 

      “You can call me Dipper.” 

      Stanford cocked his head curiously.

      “It’s a nickname...” Dipper fidgeted with his hands in his lap. “That’s what my sister calls me.”

      “Dipper it is, then.” Ford nodded. “Did your mother and father inform you why they sent you to be in my care?” Ford busied himself with stacking some papers he’d been writing on and putting them to the side. Dipper watched him, his eyes catching a strange metal pendant hanging from a chain around the man’s neck. It looked almost like a closed eye with a strange symbol etched in it. 

      “Um...” Dipper dragged his eyes away from it, not wanting to be caught staring. He didn’t know where to look that wouldn’t be rude. The man before him was strange, to say the least. His six-fingered hands, his gray hair so like Dipper’s own, his dead left eye, his square jaw peppered with dark stubble and scars... Dipper chose to stare at an old journal on the desk, instead. “Not really, no. I...” He thought back to the night he hurt Mabel. He swallowed down a pit of guilt. “No... I found out the morning I left, they didn’t explain anything.” 

      “I see. Allow me to introduce myself properly, then.” Ford adjusted his glasses. “I am Stanford Pines, a doctor of the sciences. I’ve spent my life studying all things unnatural, supernatural, and unexplained. I am a researcher, a collector, a demonologist, and an investigator.” He motioned to the library of tomes and journals surrounding them.

      For a moment, Dipper’s eyes lit up. All his life he’d been enraptured by tales of spirits and monsters in the night, and here was a man, disheveled as he may appear, who professionally studied such things? It was a dream come true. 

      Then Dipper’s face fell as realization dawned on him. His parents sent him away to a man who studies that.  

      “They think my nightmares are... are ghosts or demons or something?” Dipper balked. 

      “Please, there’s no need for that.” Ford held his hands up in an attempt to placate the suddenly riled boy. “I’m more qualified than anyone to help you understand what’s been happening.” 

      “What’s been happening?” Dipper echoed, his eyes becoming wild. “It’s just... it’s just nightmares, I don’t need to be studied!”

      “That’s not what you're here for, my boy, I assure you.” 

      “What do you want, then?” Dipper asked. He eyed the man warily. 

      “I want to help you.” Ford sighed and slumped back in his armchair. “I didn’t want to do this right upon your arrival. I wanted to give you a chance to settle in first.” Ford worked his jaw as he deliberated in his head. “Alas, we’re here now. Please, if you would first tell me what exactly you've been experiencing. Your parents' letters covered some of it, but I’d like to hear it from the source, if you may.” Ford leaned forward attentively. 

      Dipper took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves. He hated regaling people of his nightmares and delusions. It had only ever awarded him with disturbed glances and harsh words. 

      “Fine,” Dipper tried to keep his voice even. He intertwined his fingers in his lap, digging his nails painfully into the thin skin covering his knuckles. “It started maybe a few months ago, just a few nightmares here and there—being chased, being lost in the dark, feeling watched, things of the like.” Dipper couldn’t meet his Great Uncle’s eyes. “But they started to get so... vivid. Eyes, staring at me. Hundreds of long arms grabbing at me. Monsters with one eye in the shadows, talking at me from the dark corners of my room. I-I...” He felt Ford’s gaze burning into him. “They feel so real that I can’t tell if I’m awake sometimes, or sleepwalking. I would even see shapes out of the corner of my eye in broad daylight! And... And now I hurt Mabel—my twin sister—the night before my parents sent me away, I dreamed that she started choking me and I pushed her off and she hit her head, and—” Dipper pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to hold down the tears that threatened to well up. His voice trembled. “I’m going crazy.”

      Ford inhaled deeply, taking in Dipper’s words for a long moment. 

      “No, you are not crazy.” 

      Dipper wearily glanced up to meet his eye, but Ford was gazing off into the distance with a haunted expression. 

      “I’ve experienced just the same, when I was younger,” Ford said. Dipper froze, then remembered to breathe. 

      “What?” He barely dared to ask, for fear of having imagined his Great Uncle’s words.

      “The things in the shadows, the whispers in your dreams, losing track of reality, sleepwalking, all of it.” Ford tapped his fingers on his desk. “You say you hurt your sister?”

      Dipper’s lips thinned and he gave a stiff nod. Ford grunted in acknowledgement, a dark look passing over his face like a shadow.

      “Yes, that’s what he does. Wears you down, makes you lose track of what’s the nightmare and the waking world, and then uses your torment to play tricks. He’s a master of manipulation.” 

      Dipper blinked in confusion. “He...?” 

      “Bill Cipher.” Ford stared at him with unwavering sincerity. “The demon that is cursed to haunt our family.”

      Silence filled the space between them for a long moment. The word demon hung heavy in the air. 

      “You can’t be serious.” Dipper tried to laugh, but it came out as a shaky breath. 

      “Deadly,” Ford replied. 

      “They’ve taken me to a church and tried to exorcize me already,” Dipper said with growing irritation. “It didn’t do shit. I'm not possessed.” 

      “Bill can’t be warded off by meager prayer and holy water. No, he is far more powerful and clever than that.” Ford continued tapping his fingers.

      “Wha...” Dipper stared at his Great Uncle incredulously. “That’s ridiculous, that’s...” 

      “Listen to me now, young man. Listen well.” Ford fixed him with an intense stare. Dipper’s protests immediately died on the tip of his tongue. 

      “Bill has terrorized our family for centuries. His curse afflicts a Pines of each generation, haunting them with nightmares and visions until he manages to either drive them mad or...” Ford paused, letting the thought trail off. 

      Fear crept into Dipper’s heart. As insane as this sounded, and against Dipper’s wishful thinking, he believed his Great Uncle. There was a demon haunting him, driving him insane, making him hurt Mabel. This was real. 

      “He’s dangerous, Dipper,” Ford continued, his voice lowering into a growl. Dipper couldn’t tell whether it was his words he was scared of, or the look of murderous hatred in his Great Uncle’s eyes. “Whatever you do, don’t trust him. Trust no one.” 

Chapter Text

      Stanford hardly spoke that night during dinner. After he warned Dipper about the demon named Bill, he was abruptly sent from his office, leaving Ford alone to stew on his thoughts. Dipper didn’t like the stern manner the man had suddenly adapted, but he decided not to press it. His Great Uncle was practically a stranger, after all. 

      Ford spent the rest of the evening pouring over old notes and books with cracked spines, and the nice servant girl named Wendy led Dipper to his room on the upper floor. Most doors were shut on the upper level, but as they made their way down the winding halls and open foyers, Dipper looked out a set of huge windows they passed, overlooking an overgrown garden. Dipper hardly heard Wendy giving him a tour with how his attention wandered to anything but her, but finally they arrived and she pushed the door open for him. It was larger than he and Mabel’s bedroom back home, but only held one large bed in the center, and an old dresser and vanity. The window against the far wall had the dark curtains drawn, and it all smelled faintly of dust. 

      “Cleaned it up the best I could. I hope it’ll suffice for tonight,” Wendy said, looking around the space. 

      Dipper put on a polite smile. “It’s great, thank you.” 

      With that, Dipper unpacked his clothes, changed into his nightwear, and slid under the covers, blowing out the lit lamp Wendy left at his bedside. He was restless for a long stretch of time, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling with it’s patterned wallpaper swimming in the darkness, but finally he drifted off. 

      The nightmares weren’t as bad. They were brief, leaving him waking up in the middle of the night, but able to fall back asleep with ample time before morning. 

      The next days passed mostly uneventfully. His Great Uncle still only made small talk in passing, assurring Dipper that he need not concern himself any further with the subject of Bill Cipher, as Ford was looking into it. Dipper wasn’t one to sit around and do nothing, though. He decided to spend his time in the library, while Ford locked himself in his office. 

      The library was the largest room in the mansion, stretching up into a high raftered ceiling, with rows and rows of shelves built into the walls. Dipper spent days perusing the collection, pulling out old books about demonology, theories of the afterlife, history of exorcisms and the church, studies on dreams and nightmares, ancient myths about curses—Dipper could've spent years exploring the vast array of knowledge kept here. 

      The afternoon was growing late. The sun had set, and Dipper sat at a table with one hand propping up his chin and the other flipping through dusty pages of some diary of a mad man raving about demons in his dreams. Soft light glowed from the lit lamps lining the walls and the candle Dipper kept on the table at his side. The flame sputtered as Wendy suddenly swept past him, placing a plate of food next to his book.

      “You two really are alike,” Wendy mused as she set a fork on the glassware. “Both of you, too busy reading dusty old books to even come to dinner!”

      Dipper raised his head in alarm. “I’m sorry, I guess the time slipped away from me...”

      Wendy shrugged. 

      “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to delivering the plates to the old man’s office or library or workshop or wherever else he’s decided to hole himself up for the day.” 

      Dipper stared at the plate of roasted potatoes and pork. He watched the steam curl up into the air, ghosting warmth over his skin—a stark contrast to the constant chill that pervaded the large mansion, as if it really was haunted. When Dipper lifted his attention away from the food, Wendy was walking away. 

      “Wendy,” Dipper called after her, cringing at how small his voice came out. If she noticed or cared, she didn’t show it. She turned back towards him with a pleasant tilt of her head. “I have a question, if that’s, erm, okay...” 

      “Of course. Shoot,” she replied, coming closer. 

      “My Great Uncle...” Dipper started hesitantly. He didn’t know if it was his place to pry like this, but... he needed to ask. It felt like Stanford had all the power, with knowing so much more than Dipper did about this so-called curse. “Have you ever seen my Great Uncle sleepwalking? Or having night terrors?” 

      Wendy blinked at him and leaned back, thinking. “Sleepwalking?”

      “Yes, walking around in the middle of the night, but he's actually asleep.”

      “Oh,” she laughed easily, as if something obvious occurred to her. “I wouldn’t know if he does or not, I don’t stay overnight.”

      “You don’t?” It was Dipper’s turn to look puzzled.

      “Of course not. Between you and me, this place creeps me out! My family lives in town, I just come in every day to cook and clean and such, and leave when it’s time to bed down for the night.” 

      Dipper’s brow furrowed. Damn, so he wouldn’t be able to get that kind of gossip even from the servant who was at the estate every day. 

      “Sorry, kid. I wish I could help more with whatever it is you’re trying to figure out.” She waved her hand towards the book in front of Dipper. Dipper looked at it glumly. 

      “Thank you anyway, Wendy,” he said. 

      Dipper picked at his food half-heartedly after she had gone, but couldn’t work up the will to do much else the rest of the evening. He made his way upstairs to get cleaned up and head to bed for the night. 

—

      Dipper woke up to a deafening crash of lightning, followed by a roll of thunder so loud it rattled the walls. He jolted upright in bed, his forehead damp with cold sweat. His room was pitch dark, except for the moonlight spilling into the room through the window—along with buckets of rain. 

      Dipper swore and leapt out of the bed, rushing to slam the window shut tight. He breathed hard. He was positive that window had not been open when he'd gone to bed, but perhaps the wind had knocked it loose. It was positively torrential outside, droplets pounding against the glass and roof. Dipper grumbled; his night clothes were absolutely soaked from the rain. The boy peeled the wet clothes from his body and tossed them aside, shivering in the cold air. 

      Creaaak.

      Dipper spun around as the door to his room leaned open just a crack. Lightning lit up the room for a split second, casting Dipper’s long shadow towards the dark gape of the hallway. 

      Dipper felt the urge to call out Wendy’s name, or perhaps his Great Uncle’s, but his throat closed up in the grip of sudden fear. He didn’t feel like he was dreaming or sleepwalking, but it had been getting harder and harder to tell. With his heart in his throat, Dipper crept towards the opposite side of the door’s opening and pushed it shut, clicking the lock. He exhaled, but the tension did not melt. 

      Going back to bed would be a bad idea, right? Monsters could form out of darkness at any moment, and... 

      Dipper pressed his ear to the door and listened closely. Footsteps? He couldn’t tell if he was imagining it, but what if it was Ford? Dipper had to check if it really was him wandering around in the dead of night. He needed to know if his Great Uncle truly suffered the same ‘curse’ as Dipper or not. Trust no one.  

      Dipper got dressed quickly, tugging on some trousers, a buttonup, and a vest handed down from his father that was just a bit too large on his slight frame. Dipper swallowed his breath and rested a hand on the doorknob. Only the constant drone of rain filled the silence. Dipper slowly opened the door. 

      It wasn’t as wholly dark as Dipper was expecting, which he was thankful for. Perhaps it was a full moon tonight, peeking through a patch of rain clouds, interspersed with bright flashes of lightning. Dipper’s skin crawled. It reminded him too much of the storm the night he had hurt Mabel. Dipper set his jaw and walked down the hall with purpose. No, Mabel was far away. She was safe, she wasn’t here, and Dipper was not possessed by a damn demon.  

      He crept through the halls as silently as he could, ignoring the rush of blood in his ears that came with a spike of fear every time a shadow in the corner of his eye moved. He didn’t spot Ford anywhere, nor any monsters or eyeballs or tiny hands reaching for him. Then, Dipper found himself in front of the impressive nearly floor to ceiling panes of glass looking out over the garden. Pale light illuminated Dipper as he stepped right up to it, shadows of rivulets running down the glass streaked across Dipper’s form. Dipper realized now, standing right in front of it, there were intricate geometric designs built into the borders of the great window. Dipper looked behind him, observing the glow of triangles dancing on the walls nearby. He turned back towards his reflection. 

      Slitted eyes stared back at him, out of his own face. 

      Dipper screamed and fell backwards. He scrambled away and watched in horror as the glass shattered and his reflection stepped into the room with him. A huge grin not unlike the one he’d seen on Mabel’s face right before she strangled him graced the face of his reflection made flesh. And the thing was bleeding, covered in lacerations from the huge shards of broken glass at their feet. The grin curled up impossibly far as his reflection self loomed over him. Dipper’s heart kick-started and he jumped to his feet, taking off down the opposite hall in a dead sprint. Discordant laughter chased at his heels, down winding halls he’d never explored. Footsteps pounded behind Dipper in time with the pounding rain. Panic seized Dipper’s mind. 

      Ghostly triangles of light floated across the surface of the walls around him, sourceless and encroaching. They began to spin, coming off the wall right at Dipper like projectile shards of glass, carving through his shirt and leaving cuts across his arms and face. Dipper screamed in pain, clutching his arm, but he didn’t stop running, for a voice that was his but not quite was behind him, jeering and calling to him. Dipper made to round a corner and came face to face with his grinning reflection self. What?! He whirled around to go back the way he came, but his yellow-eyed self was coming from that direction as well. Dipper cursed and hurried to throw open the shut door right beside him, praying it wasn’t locked. The cackling came to a crescendo, mixing with a cacophony of screams, piercing Dipper’s skull painfully. The door opened. Dipper fell inside and it slammed shut behind him. 

      The screams and laughter abruptly stopped, leaving him with silence and the patter of rain against a window. Dipper was in a small room that looked to have perhaps once been a tea room. And he wasn’t alone. 

      “Fancy seeing you here!” A jarring bark of a voice greeted Dipper. “Glad you could drop in, kid!” Laughter. Familiar laughter. 

      Dipper stood up and pressed his back to the door defensively. “...Bill?” 

      “Right-o! Bill Cipher, at your service! Good to finally meet ya, Pinetree!” The... man ... tipped a top hat to him. Dipper’s mouth felt dry. 

      He certainly didn’t look entirely human, but when Dipper imagined a demon, it wasn’t... this.

      At a small circular tea table in front of the window, a tall angular man was sitting in one of the chairs. No, not sitting—he was floating above it, legs crossed casually. He took a sip from a broken tea cup and set it on the table, uncrossing his legs and ‘standing up’. Pristine, pointed leather shoes rested on the carpet. A fitted yellow and black pinstripe suit hugged the man’s form perfectly, something Dipper imagined rich businessmen in the city might wear. The man’s hair was a yellow blonde, with streaks of black at the nape of his neck. One of his eyes was covered with a black triangular eyepatch—the same eye Ford was blind in—though Dipper could see no strings affixing it in place. The other eye was wide and yellow and slitted, framed by long black eyelashes. Bill Cipher was—oddly, annoyingly—a wickedly handsome man.

      Dipper shrunk away as Bill walked towards him, grinning brightly and outstretching a gloved hand to him. Dipper did not move to grasp it, instead curling his lip in a snarl.

      “G-get the hell away from me! Don’t come closer!” He tried to sound as intimidating as possible, but a tremor of fear made its way into his voice. 

      “Feisty, I like it!” Bill's grin was wolfish. The demon blinked and then snapped his fingers. “Oh! Where are my manners,” he said, and waved one hand with a flourish of bright blue flames. Dipper looked down at himself in shock as all his cuts and bruises mended themselves completely. Even his torn and bloody clothes were restored to even more pristine condition than they’d been in before. His hand-me-down vest was now embroidered with a beautiful pine forest under a starry sky. 

      “How...?” Dipper murmured, his fear momentarily replaced with stunned wonder. When he raised his head, Bill was leaning right in his face, inspecting him. Bill brushed a strand of Dipper’s curls off the boy’s forehead and then straightened up once more. Dipper couldn’t form words. 

      “You’re dreaming, kid! Anything is possible,” Bill simply said, and strolled back to the tea table, resuming his odd floating reclination. Dipper cautiously took a few steps into the room. 

      “You're a demon,” he said, more a statement than a question. 

      “Something like that.” Bill took another sip from his broken teacup. Dipper stepped closer and tried to peek at its contents, expecting perhaps a cup of blood or floating eyeballs. Instead, Bill appeared to be drinking liquified stars, a swirl of galaxy, blue and purple and glittering. Bill saw him staring and motioned at the teapot. 

      “You can have some, if you like. It’ll be regular ol’ leaves and water, though. This stuff isn’t meant for cute little humans like you.” He wiggled his cup at him, the galaxy liquid sloshing.

      Dipper (with some difficulty) ignored the use of the words ‘cute’ and ‘humans’ and approached the table. He picked the teapot up by the handle, half expecting his hand to pass right through it. Dipper poured some of the contents into the empty teacup sitting on the table opposite of Bill. It indeed looked like completely regular hot tea. Dipper didn’t drink it. He looked at Bill with narrowed eyes. 

      “What do you want?” he said, a hard edge to his voice. “Why have you been tormenting me?” Tormenting our family, Dipper silently added. 

      “Tormenting?” Bill placed an offended hand over his heart. “Tormenting? Me?” Bill’s form suddenly collapsed into a hundred shifting triangles, a bit like a kaleidoscope, that then whipped through the air. Bill reformed behind Dipper, leaning over his shoulder and curling a hand around the shorter boy’s shoulder. “Whatever do you mean, torment?”

      Dipper jumped away from him, knocking into the table. Bill’s teacup fell to the floor and shattered, but then immediately reformed and floated back up to its place on the table as if nothing had happened. Dipper glared at Bill’s curling smile. 

      “The curse. The nightmares. The sleepwalking, the... all of it!” 

      “Ah, yes, the curse.” Bill rolled his eye and circled Dipper slowly. The way he walked reminded Dipper of a cat. “I am just as cursed as you are, kid! You think I want to be here?” He gazed distastefully at their dusty and neglected surroundings. “The nightmares and junk are just side effects of me being stuck in your minds, since they can’t handle hosting such a powerful being.” He gestured to himself smugly.

      “Why only show yourself now, then, if that’s the case?” Dipper eyed him suspiciously, taking a step back. “As soon as I entered, the nightmare stopped. Why don’t you just make it stop all the time, if you are so powerful?”

      “The only reason I was able to manifest myself to you was because your mind was open to it, Pinetree!” Bill tapped the side of his own skull. “That geezer downstairs told you my name. I try to tell humans my name myself, but... it usually just makes them run away screaming!” Bill burst into a fit of laughter. Dipper thought back to the discordant whispers and voices he would hear in his nightmares. “I don’t try to torment the humans I get stuck to! It takes a rare mind to be able to speak to me, even when they do know my name.” 

      Dipper didn’t notice Bill had sidled up in front of him once more. Dipper’s breath caught in his throat at the way Bill held him under his gaze as he said a rare mind. Bill took Dipper’s hand gently.

      “My Great Uncle told me that you are a liar and manipulator,” Dipper said, but didn’t pull out of his grasp. The reality that he was speaking to an otherworldly entity swirled through Dipper’s thoughts, making his heart race with excitement. It takes a rare mind to be able to speak to me.  

      “Of course that paranoid lunatic would say that! He doesn't even trust himself,” Bill scoffed. “Not after what he did.”

      Before Dipper could ask about the ominous words regarding his Great Uncle, Bill suddenly snapped his fingers and sourceless music filled the air. He swept Dipper up in a dance, holding Dipper’s hand tight and putting his other arm around Dipper’s lower back to guide him along with his graceful steps. Dipper stumbled to keep up, but strangely soon found himself dancing along with Bill perfectly, despite not having the slightest idea what kind of dance this was. Bill grinned. 

      “The curse is only bad when my influence is fought against, rejected.” Bill twirled Dipper and caught him effortlessly. “When the relationship is more of a partnership, ” Bill’s footwork was expertly quick as he twisted and pulled a blushing Dipper against his chest, “we both flourish, together.” Dipper’s heart raced at the sound of Bill’s voice, so close to his face. The two continued to dance, and Dipper thought he understood. He sought Bill out, he was going along with Bill, and because of it, he was able to control the dreams. He was dancing perfectly because Bill knew how, and because Dipper could simply will his body to match his movements without having the real world skill to do so. A partnership, an understanding, a melding of minds, a dance.

      “Then...” Dipper said breathlessly, despite feeling nothing but energized. “Why does my Great Uncle think you're so evil, if it’s just a matter of working together?” 

      “Fordsy and I used to be partners,” Bill said, side-stepping and swinging Dipper around with him in a flourish. Dipper couldn’t help the grin that flashed across his face at the thrill that rushed through him. “But he got paranoid. He didn't want to share anymore, his mind couldn’t handle my power, and he blamed me for it!”

      Fordsy? They must've been close, Dipper thought.

      “Very close. He practically worshiped me!” Bill responded, seemingly reading Dipper’s inner dialog. He flashed Dipper a playful smile and tilted his head. “Sharing, remember?” 

      “Incredible,” Dipper breathed. Bill took a few more winding steps and then let his hands drop, ending the dance. Dipper pushed away the pang of disspoinment in his chest, and hoped it didn’t show on his face. 

      “It’s gonna be morning soon, I’m afraid your dream is coming to an end!” Bill glanced almost sadly to the window, where the rain had long since stopped and the light was turning blue. 

      “But...” Dipper wanted to ask so many things. He needed more time. He was finally making progress in understanding what had been happening to him, and how he could keep Mabel safe from it. If he could learn more... With Bill’s help, he’d never have to worry about hurting Mabel ever again. 

      Bill snapped him out of his thoughts by flicking his bangs, flashing his birthmark. Dipper flushed and covered it with his hands.

      “Don’t worry, kid. There’s always the next night,” Bill said. He bent down slightly and removed his eyepatch, winking at Dipper. When his eye opened, Dipper almost gasped out loud. 

      Bill’s other eye was like looking into the night sky itself, endless and alien and mesmerizing. He slipped the triangular patch back over his eye. 

      “Come find me in the dream. We have so much to talk about,” Bill said. 

      “The nightmare, you mean?” Dipper chuckled, but a part of him was worried he would have to traverse dangers like the ones he’d faced tonight, until he reached this safe room. Bill shook his head. For a second, Dipper thought the shadow behind him looked triangular.

      “Remember what I said about the effects of the curse being controllable through our partnership?” Bill leaned in close to Dipper’s face, too close. Dipper’s heartbeat quickened. “I have a funny feeling you won’t be having any more nightmares, Dipper.” 

      Then Bill kissed him, and Dipper woke up. 

Chapter Text

      Silverware scraped loudly against ceramic in the uneasy silence at the dinner table. Dipper’s Great Uncle sat opposite of him across the large wood table, staring at the food Wendy cooked with an expression like a stormcloud. Dipper stole glances at his Uncle’s unnerving blind eye, picking idly at his food. He hated the heavy tension of a conversation-less dining table; it reminded him of nights where his father was furious, and no one dared speak a word for fear of his anger turning on them. Dipper’s grip on his fork tightened. 

      Then, Ford spoke and startled Dipper out of his brooding thoughts. “How have your nightmares been, Dipper? Any improvement, in the time you’ve been here?” 

      Hearing his name from Ford’s mouth made Dipper shift uncomfortably in his seat. 

      “Better, yes... A bit...” 

      “Has Bill made contact with you?” 

      Dipper stiffened. He felt his Uncle’s eyes on him. 

      “Um,” Dipper nudged a green bean with his fork, avoiding Ford’s gaze, “no?” 

      “You sound unsure.” Ford’s rumbling voice was hard to read. Was he suspicious? Annoyed? Concerned? “Dipper, it’s very important you don’t talk to him. Has the demon shown himself to you?” 

      Dipper stared at his plate. “No, the nightmares have been the same. I haven’t... seen anyone, anything.” 

      “Look at me,” Ford said sternly. Dipper flinched and obediently raised his head to meet his uncle’s eyes. 

      Should Dipper really be lying to the man? He was probably just worried, but... Dipper thought back to what Bill had told him that first night they actually met face to face; how Ford knew things that he wasn’t telling Dipper, how he used to be partners with Bill. 

      Dipper thought to how his interactions with the demon had been over the past weeks, with the nightmares completely subsiding, just as Bill said they would. And Bill himself... Dipper’s cheeks flushed. 

      Dipper went to visit Bill in his dreams every single night. The demon had fully swept Dipper off his feet—sometimes literally—with his tales of the universe and different dimensions, his gentlemanly mannerisms, his strange and breathtaking powers, and the unwavering attention he gave Dipper. He’d never experienced anything like it. Even his twin was sometimes prone to becoming distant-eyed when Dipper talked about his aspirations and interests. But not Bill. The handsome demon ate up every word from the boy’s mouth, and returned the thoughts with twice as much enthusiasm. Some of Bill’s off-putting or grating habits quickly became charming to him. Dipper was embarrassed to admit how much he liked Bill—far more than any respectable man should care for another man, that was for certain—but Dipper couldn’t get himself to hang onto that shame when he was around Bill. Bill wasn’t even human; perhaps it was only his shape that appeared male. Who was Dipper to apply his human standards to their relationship? He just wanted to enjoy something for once without the fear of being seen as a freak.

      Dipper’s mind wandered to how he and Bill had been walking through the gardens the other night. Bill hovered up towards a long-dead tangle of thorns and willed a bright red rose into existence, depositing it in Dipper’s hands. Then he taught Dipper how to manipulate the dream as well, guiding the boy’s hands with his gloved ones up towards the sky, where Dipper dragged the stars to earth, turning them into a thousand glowing motes drifting lazily through the air around them. Dipper laughed, clear and bright, and felt his heart skip when he caught Bill smiling proudly at him. 

      “Are you feeling well? Your face is red.” His Great Uncle’s brow furrowed. 

      Dipper coughed. “I’m fine, just warm.” Dipper mentally berated himself, before taking a steadying breath. “I guess I’m just sleeping easier knowing Mabel is far from danger. I haven’t met this demon, I promise.” The lie felt sour on Dipper’s tongue. 

      Ford frowned deeply. His shoulders almost seemed to slump, before he gathered himself up again. “That’s... good. It’s very important you heed my warnings, Dipper, you understand? You are just a boy, it is not safe for you to be meddling with this. I understand curiosity, but don’t let it blind you. You must leave it to me.” His Great Uncle fixed him with a pointed stare, his pale eye gleaming in the lamplight.

      Dipper pouted ever so slightly. Now he was chiding Dipper like a child? He wanted to fire the interrogation back at him, to ask what it was he has been so obviously crafting in his study, and why he was being so secretive about Bill and his past. But Dipper swallowed it. He nodded, and they continued to eat in silence. 

—

      Dipper wore his white button-up and newly embroidered vest to sleep that night. Wonderously, the change Bill made to it had remained even in the waking world. When Dipper asked about it, Bill told him it was a treat, and that sometimes he was able to influence reality in such a way through the bond with a strong human mind, such as Dipper’s. Dreams, made manifest.

      When Dipper's eyes opened, it was dark. He pulled the covers aside and sat up, extending a hand and willing a lit lantern into existence. He smiled as the dream obeyed him, and his surroundings became washed in a gentle orange glow. Holding the lantern aloft, Dipper left the confines of his room and wandered out into the halls of the mansion. Instead of monstrous eyes or horrifying reflection copies of himself, Dipper found the halls calm and safe in the dream. Little glowing triangles floated across the surface of the walls and floor, leading him to the stairs. Dipper happily followed, confident now that they would not fly at him with razor edges.

      Dipper padded down the winding staircase, alighting on the main floor of the estate. He had explored down here a few times in the dream now, but he frowned as the triangles led him to a familiar door. The door remained closed even in the dream, and even in the dream Dipper hadn’t dared enter his Great Uncle’s study. Dipper startled when a hand touched his shoulder from behind. Bill’s wide smile graced his sight when Dipper turned, the tall demon tilting his head.

      “You scared me,” Dipper chuckled, trying to shake off his nerves. He set the lantern down next to the wall.

      “I have a nasty habit of doing that, don’t I!” Bill cackled. His feet lifted off the floor and he pivoted to link his elbow in Dipper’s. “You seem tense.”

      Dipper’s lips pouted slightly. Bill didn’t need to ask out loud what was bothering him, the statement was prompting enough. His eyes flicked to the door for a second. 

      “My Great Uncle was pressing me about my nightmares today,” Dipper said, easily falling in step with Bill as he idly glided in a slow waltz, taking up Dipper’s hands and placing them on his shoulders, as solid and warm as any living thing would be. Bill liked to dance, Dipper had noticed. Or perhaps he simply didn’t like to stand still. “He... asked about you, too.” 

      Bill hummed thoughtfully. “That’s not a good sign.” 

      “Really?” Dipper’s stomach dropped. “Why? Do you think he knows I'm lying?” 

      His eyebrows pinched together slightly. The dancing stopped, leaving Bill to instead tap one foot on the floorboards. “I don’t think it matters either way.” 

      Dipper watched Bill as he lifted into weightlessness once more, crossing his legs midair and pondering something with a frown etched on his face. 

      “Tell me,” Dipper said. He hated being left in the dark like this, untrusted and treated like a child. Bill’s slitted eye turned on him. The demon regarded Dipper for a long moment. 

      “I suppose you're ready for the truth,” he said. “You've done exceedingly well with all of my guidance.” 

      Dipper practically glowed at the praise. But, Bill’s somber tone worried him. It was unusual, out of place with the bright and chipper persona Dipper had come to be familiar with.

      Bill waved a hand and the door to his Great Uncle’s study swung open. Dipper took a step back. “I-I can’t.”

      Bill smirked. “Of course you can. You can do anything here.” Bill motioned to the dream around them, sending little wisps of blue fire from his hand. “Follow me.” He refracted into a roiling kaleidoscope of golden triangles and flew through the open doorway. Dipper picked up the lantern and followed him inside. 

      It looked exactly as it had the day Dipper first arrived, though dark and lit only by the glow of Dipper’s lamp. It’s creepy in here, Dipper thought to himself, glancing around the packed bookshelves and the looming desk before him. Bill reformed behind it.

      “Maybe this will help,” Bill responded to his thought, and snapped his fingers. The beautiful glass panes behind him that stretched to the ceiling suddenly lit up with bright pale light, as if Bill materialized a full moon and placed it right on the other side of the window. Dipper smiled. 

      “A bit.” He set the lantern down on the corner of his Great Uncle’s desk, careful to avoid it being too close to unattended stacks of paper. Dipper approached Bill where he stood in a halo of light. Bill smiled to him as he came close, sending Dipper’s heart racing. “What did you need to tell me?” 

      Bill tapped his chin. “Gee, I must have been too distracted by how handsome you look and forgot what I was going to say!” Dipper rolled his eyes but smiled, flushing pink. Bill laughed. “I think it’s time you knew about how dangerous the old man is.” 

      The levity in the air vanished at the mention of Ford. Dipper’s face fell. “Dangerous?”

      “I don’t suppose he mentioned that twins run in the family,” Bill said. Seeing the expression of shock and confusion on Dipper’s face, Bill continued. “Yes, ol’ Fordsy had a twin brother! A big oaf that fellow was, but I respected his talents for trickery.” 

      Dipper’s mind was reeling. Why wouldn’t Ford have told him this? Dipper had brought up Mabel multiple times, surely he could have mentioned that he had a twin as well! His parents never mentioned this supposed twin brother, either. Did he live in another state? Were they estranged? Was he alive?

      Bill laughed, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Slow down with the questions, kid! I’m getting there.” 

      Dipper blushed. “S-sorry. It’s just surprising.” 

      Bill brought a hand to Dipper’s forehead, brushing the bangs aside to look at the constellation on his skin. He smiled. Dipper’s breath caught in his throat. 

      “It makes sense that he didn’t say anything,” Bill said. Dipper didn’t dare breathe, not wanting to break the spell of being held under the demon’s soft gaze like this. “He doesn’t talk about Stanley anymore. Not after he killed him.” 

      Dipper stumbled back a step, stricken by the words. “He... what?” Murder? His own twin brother? It didn’t make sense—surely Ford would have been hanged for something like that!

      Bill shook his head. “He was well respected in society, and Stan was considered a bum and a drunk. The whole ordeal was forgotten within a few days.” 

      Dipper’s mouth felt dry. “But... why?”

      “He blames me for it.” Bill folded his hands behind his back and gazed at the stained glass. “It’s part of why he hates me. Remember when I told you he became incredibly paranoid, and rejected my help in holding back the nightmares?” Dipper nodded. “And you remember what you did to your sister, the night before you were sent here?”

      Dipper took a shuddering breath. “Yes...” he whispered. He understood what Bill was implying. 

      Bill faced him, leaning down to Dipper’s eye level. The demon’s shadow swallowed the light. He pressed a finger to Dipper’s cheekbone, just under his eye. “He shot him. Right through the eye. With a gun he keeps in that desk.” Bill looked sideways. Dipper followed his gaze to his Uncle’s desk. “It was a real mess, I tell you what!”

      Dipper felt sick. 

      “Have I upset you?” Bill cocked his head to the side.

      “I'm just not accustomed to... things like that.” The town Dipper grew up in was civilized and law-abiding; murders were not so common there, nor were they a heavy topic of conversation in the Pines household, and Dipper certainly had never seen a dead person. The thought of someone being shot through the eye... Dipper shuddered. 

      Bill gently took both of Dipper’s hands in his. Every discomforting image in Dipper’s mind vanished as he looked up at Bill’s face with wide, questioning eyes. 

      “I'm telling you all this because I'm...” he paused, seeming to hesitate in admitting something. “I'm worried about what he might do.” Bill’s thumb rubbed the back of Dipper’s hand, sending shivers through his skin. “I fear what he may do to you if he suspects us. I don't want to lose you.”

      The admission stole Dipper’s breath away. Us. It felt as strong as a confession of love. Bill sensed Dipper’s thoughts and leaned in, pressing his lips to Dipper’s. Dipper eagerly closed his eyes and melted into his arms, resting his hands on the front of Bill’s suit. It was the safest he'd ever felt. He never wanted to wake up, for then he would have to face the world alone.

      “You think he'll try to kill me?” Dipper breathed the question as soon as they parted slightly. 

      “I can protect you,” Bill said, putting Dipper at arm’s length so he could look him in the eye. “There's a way for me to protect you in the waking world, too.”

      “How?” 

      Bill grinned. His eye glowed. “It’s pretty simple, but requires trust.” Bill floated backwards and sat on the edge of the desk, crossing his legs. “Just like how our partnership, and your resilient mind,” Dipper smiled slightly, “are able to overcome the negative effects of my presence and the curse. This would allow us to break those limitations entirely. We would be bound together, and I would be with you always, not just in the dream.” 

      Dipper’s breath caught, his heart raced with excitement. “Always? Even...”

      “Even while you’re awake, yes!” Bill’s smile was bright. “I’d be with you, and we would be able to use my powers. I could protect you.” 

      Dipper swayed unsteadily on his feet. It was a dream come true. But, of course it was. That’s what Bill did: he made dreams a reality, he shaped them into whatever he wanted, he was so powerful—and yet, he still wanted to share it with a little mortal like Dipper. If he did this, he’d never be alone again, he’d never suffer from the nightmares again, and he’d never risk hurting Mabel again. He could go home, and he’d have Bill with him. He wondered if he and Mabel would get along—they probably would, they were the two most energetically eccentric people he knew! Dipper found himself smiling ear to ear. Bill returned the glowing expression.

      “What do I need to do?”

      Bill removed his glove for the first time and extended his hand towards Dipper. His shadow stretched behind him and climbed the wall, coming to a triangular point. Blue flames erupted from Bill’s palm and trailed up his arm.

      “You just have to let me in,” Bill replied. “Shake on it! Agree to be my human, and my power will be yours.” 

      Dipper’s heart fluttered in his chest. He didn’t notice the door to the room move slightly. “And you’ll be with me when I wake up? Always?” 

      Bill nodded, still smiling and holding his hand out patiently. “I’ll be there, kid. That’s a promise!” Dipper lifted his hand, trembling slightly with nerves. He took a deep breath.

      “I trust you,” Dipper said, and grasped Bill’s hand. For a terrifying moment, Dipper was afraid of being burned by Bill’s fire, but it licked harmlessly up his arm, linking him and Bill together. It was almost a pleasant sensation, warm and comforting. Then it rapidly spread, engulfing Dipper’s vision. Panic lit up in his chest. He gasped and stumbled backwards, but Bill’s grip held tight. Dipper thought he heard laughter, but then it morphed into words.

      “Dipper! MASON! WAKE UP!” 

      Dipper’s eyes snapped back open, but instead of Bill, his Great Uncle Ford was standing in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him roughly. His uncle’s hair was messy and his glasses skewed, like he may have just woken up in a rush. His expression was wild and frantic as he searched Dipper’s face. Dipper’s mind caught back up with him and he lurched backwards, away from Ford. His back hit Ford’s desk—when did he get turned around? He looked up at the tall stained glass window and noticed, for the first time, that in the center it formed a huge triangle made up of different shades of yellow and orange. 

      Without thinking, Dipper yanked open the nearest drawer and shoved his hand inside, searching. 

      Ford looked confused. “Dipper, what are you—?” He took a step back, holding his hands up as Dipper pulled a revolver from the drawer and aimed it at him.

      “Don’t come closer!” Dipper’s hands trembled. He hadn’t the slightest clue how to use the thing, but Ford’s expression calmed and became serious. 

      “Dipper, put that down,” he said, voice steady. 

      Dipper ignored him, frantically looking around the room. Was I sleepwalking? He had to have been. He remembered very clearly going to bed upstairs. The lantern he’d summoned in the dream still sat on the edge of Ford’s desk, glowing softly with firelight. 

      There were other things on Ford’s desk that hadn’t been there in the dream. For a moment, Dipper thought it was the strange necklace Ford always wore, but he could see it dangling from the man’s neck. The pendant and cord splayed on the desk look exactly the same, but without the intricate engraving of a symbol on the closed eye. Judging by the various tools scattered around it, Ford must have been in the process of making a new necklace just like his.

      “Mason,” Ford urged again, trying to get the boy’s attention back on him. 

      “Don’t call me that!” Dipper snapped. He hated how he sounded like a scared little boy. 

      “I'm sorry. Dipper,” Ford corrected, “please put the gun down. You don’t know what you're doing.” 

      Anger flared up in Dipper, but before he could respond, another voice spoke from his left.

      “No, no! Please, keep going! This is the most entertainment I’ve had in decades~”

      Dipper and Ford both shifted their attention to the figure sitting on the desk, exactly where Bill had been in the dream moments prior. His whole form glowed softly, but he no longer looked human. Dipper’s mouth fell open, trying to comprehend what he was looking at. Bill’s voice was coming from this... thing—a large yellow triangle with thin black arms and legs, a top hat and bowtie, and one large eye. 

      Ford’s eyes flashed with recognition. “Cipher!” he snarled. 

      “Yes, good to see you, too, old pal!”

      “Dipper, get away from him, now!” 

      “What...?” Dipper gaped.

      “Oh, oopsie! Sorry, kid. Is this better?” Bill snapped his fingers and his shape coalesced back into that of a handsome human man. 

      Ford sneered at the new guise. “What is this form supposed to be, Cipher?”

      “I had to wear something a little more appealing for your cute little nephew! Not everyone is freaky like you are, Sixer~” Bill leaned sideways and rested an elbow on Dipper’s shoulder. He laid his head close to Dipper’s, smiling suggestively. Shame and embarrassment crawled through Dipper’s guts as his Great Uncle’s eyes darted between the two of them, connecting the dots. Dipper felt his breath start to quicken in an oncoming panic attack. 

      “Get away from him, now!” The venomous roar of his uncle’s voice was terrifying, but Bill just regarded him smugly. 

      “Get a load of this guy!” Bill laughed in Dipper’s ear. “Always acting like I’m some kinda villain.”

      “You ruined my life,” Ford’s voice shook slightly. “You ruined my eye. You killed my...” Ford’s lips quavered.

      “No need to keep it a secret, I already told the little Pine tree aaaall about Stanley.” Ford flinched. “And I’ve never had any trouble with just having one eye, don't be so dramatic!” Bill pulled at his human eyelid, grinning. "I know you missed me~" Dipper stood frozen still from shock, listening to them bicker back and forth. 

      “Dipper, I don’t know what this monster told you, but you have to listen to me—you can’t trust him!” Stanford pleaded.

      “Yeah!” Bill barked a laugh. “Listen to the guy who used to worship me! He would practically swoon at my feet whenever I said anything at all!” Bill cackled, kicking his feet. “A real freak, this guy!”

      Ford’s face turned an angry red. 

      “You have no power here, demon! Leave this place!” Stanford gripped the pendant around his neck in one hand, taking a step forward. 

      “Oh, on the contrary, Sixer~” Bill languidly sidled up behind Dipper, and wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders. “I have all the power now.”

      Bill's hand snaked up Dipper’s arm and curled around the hand holding the gun. Ford’s eyes widened.

      BANG!

      Dipper gasped as Bill made him squeeze the trigger. Ford doubled over, falling to one knee with a pained shout. Bill’s presence against Dipper’s back vanished, but the demon’s cackling still hung in the air around them. Dipper dropped the gun onto the carpet. 

      Ford struggled to stand back up, clutching his side. A dark spot of red bloomed from under his hand, spreading through the fabric of his shirt. Dipper choked down a sob.

      “It’s okay, Dipper,” Ford tried to say gently, like coaxing a scared animal, but his voice trembled with pain. “Just come here, please.” He extended a hand towards Dipper.

      The yellow triangle in the window reflected in Dipper’s eyes, and it flashed with light. Dipper’s head knocked backwards like he’d been punched. The boy stumbled and caught himself against the desk. When he raised his head, Dipper’s eyes were yellow and slitted. An unnerving grin stretched across the boy’s face.

      “It’s too late, Sixer!” Bill, from inside Dipper’s body, grabbed the lit lantern beside him and raised it over his head. “I win!” 

      “No!” Ford cried.

      Bill pivoted and smashed the lantern right onto the desk, where the flames immediately spread through the stacks of papers and charred the wood. Bill’s and Dipper’s voices mingled together, merging in a manic fit of laughter. The flames spilled onto the floor and quickly started to lick up the bookshelves. 

      Dipper blinked his eyes open. 

      He looked down below at his own body, which was standing far too close to the flames, clutching his stomach and laughing at where Ford struggled to stay on his feet. 

      He felt... light. He looked down at himself and found he was floating above the room, body slightly translucent. Then the memory of being shunted from his form the moment Bill possessed him came back. Dread filled his heart, making it heavy like a stone. He drifted downwards next to his body—next to Bill. 

      “This isn’t what I wanted!” Dipper cried out. “This isn’t what you said would happen! We’re supposed to be partners, isn’t that what you said?” Did he ever mean anything he said? Had Dipper been completely played for a fool?  

      His body’s head turned slowly towards him, wearing a wider smile than should be possible on any human face. Bill’s yellow eyes stared right at him.

      "I lied!" The demon's voice dripped with pure, insane delight. 

      Those two simple words sent ice through Dipper’s veins. Bill laughed, and laughed and laughed, even as Ford lunged forward and grappled him. 

      “Dipper, listen to me!” Ford called out, but he was clearly yelling it to the air, as if he knew Dipper was around but not in his body. Dipper’s eyes welled up with tears. “As soon as you're back in your body, you have to run, no matter what! Please, listen to me this once. Don’t come back for anything!” 

      “The kid is already gone, Stanford!” Bill taunted from within Ford’s grip. He clawed at the arm wrapped around his neck. “And you won’t last long, either! You’ll have to kill me, Sixer! Kill your nephew like you killed your brother!” 

      Ford just grunted and used his free hand to wrench his necklace over his head. Bill’s expression visibly slackened with shock for a second, before his eyes lit up with, impossibly, even more glee than before. Bill whooped as the pendant was placed around Dipper’s neck and the triangular being was jettisoned from Dipper’s body. Dipper felt the pull immediately, and followed it like a current, slipping back into his own flesh. 

      The first thing Dipper felt was smoke burning his lungs, and searing heat on his face. He instinctively stumbled away from the roaring flames and tripped over the gun on the floor, falling backwards. He coughed and held a sleeve over his mouth. His eyes burned. 

      “Ggrhk—!” 

      Dipper turned to see his Great Uncle doubled over, clutching his head in his hands. His face twisted up in agony. Dipper stood up and took a step towards him.

      “No!” Ford snapped through gritted teeth. “You have to run! That amulet,” Dipper touched Ford’s pendant where it lay against his chest, “it blocks Bill from entering your mind. You have to run.” Ford raised his head to look at Dipper, pleading. Blood poured out of his blinded eye and dripped between his fingers. “I don’t have long. GO! NOW!” Ford roared.

      Dipper fled. He scooped the revolver off of the ground as he went, ignoring how painfully hot the metal was. He raced for the doors, soot and tears streaking his face. He heard Ford scream behind him, and the deafening sound of glass shattering, but didn’t turn to look. Almost there, Dipper reached for the open doorway, where clouds of smoke were billowing out. 

      BAM! The door slammed in his face and Dipper collided painfully with it. He tugged at the handle, but it seemed to be locked. 

      “Where do you think you're going, Pinetree?” A creepy, lilting voice cooed from across the room. Dipper turned. 

      The tall window was shattered, and his Great Uncle walked out of a thick cloud of smoke, grinning wickedly. Both eyes were yellow and slitted, but his uncle’s blind eye still dripped with red. Dipper continued to frantically try the door’s handle.

      “Woo! It feels good to be back in this body! But now who’s going back on their word?” Bill called, walking at a slow leisurely pace. He licked a bit of blood off of each of Ford’s six fingers. “We’re supposed to be together always, right? Till death do us part!” He laughed, the sound crawled under Dipper’s skin. “So take off that little trinket, kid!”

      Dipper pulled out the gun and looked back towards his uncle’s possessed body. Bill grinned wide, holding his arms open with anticipation. Blood trickled to the floor from the shot in Ford’s side. Flames roiled across the walls and ceiling.

      “Fuck you,” Dipper hissed, and blasted the handle of the door. The wood splintered. Dipper threw his weight against the door and the lock snapped. 

      “No!” Bill screamed as Dipper swung the door open and sprinted away. He ran through the halls, his breaths coming fast and labored, but he made it outside. He slammed the front doors shut behind him and kept running out onto the yard. 

      Feeling the cool night air against his steaming skin, Dipper collapsed into a pile. He uncurled his aching fingers from the gun’s handle, and instead clutched his uncle’s necklace. He cried, hot tears leaking down his face and running tracks through the soot. His clothes were singed and dirty. Dipper sat up and tore the embroidered vest from his body, throwing it aside. 

      Bill betrayed me. He tricked me. 

      And I fell for it.  

      That hurt worst of all. 

      Dipper unsteadily rose to his feet and looked back up at the overgrown mansion. Smoke rose into the dark sky as it burned, quickly becoming engulfed in flames. Dipper just stood and watched it ignite. Vicious orange fire writhed in the windows, spitting embers that floated to the sky. The towering pine trees surrounding the place glowed in the red light. Bill nor his Great Uncle followed him out. He was alone.

      Dipper wiped the tears off his face. He clutched the amulet in his hand, and watched the mansion burn.