The thing about humor that lots of people fail to understand, Bill mused as he staggered through the underbrush, is that jokes stop being funny after the first few times you tell them. Or in his case, feel them.

Pain had stopped being hilarious right around the time he got his newly-minted leg caught in a bear trap that he was still beating himself up over for having missed. The thing was bedazzled, for fuck's sake. He hadn't the slightest idea how to get the accursed thing off, either. He'd been trying not to think about it for the past 2 hours, which was easier said than done considering it made his foot explode in agony every time he tried to take a step. How these useless fleshsacks survived for more than a day apiece, he'd never know.

Really, it wasn't the pain that got to him so much as the indignity. He, Bill Cipher, the most powerful being ever to grace this miserable plane of existence, was stuck as a measly human for who knows how long, all because of that stupid branch, and that stupid law of gravity that he shouldn't even be affected by in the first place because seriously, hello, demon, can physics catch up with his importance already, and that stupid, stupid stream. When he got his powers back, he was going to burn this entire forest to the ground.

He stopped, resting against a nearby tree trunk. There it was again. His vision had gone all fuzzy and he'd had this horrible…dizzy feeling. He hoped he wasn't dying. That would be ridiculously inconvenient. He took a few deep breaths (that was another thing. Breathing was so impractical. He was still forced to do it to survive, unfortunately, as he found out after nearly passing out after being human for a mere 30 seconds), and forged on – only to have his legs give out from under him. He groaned. Fantastic. Of all the times for his useless meat sticks to stop functioning, it had to be now. He'd just started to hear the sounds of civilization a few minutes ago and everything. So much for his dramatic entrance. He was planning on getting free hot chocolate by disarming the locals with a good sob story, too. It'd been ages since he'd had real food.

He rolled onto his stomach with some effort, because grass smelled disgusting and hell if he was letting his last moments go down like that. It was getting hard to think, so he decided to stop doing that, except his thoughts didn't want to turn off for some reason. That was annoying. How were you supposed to focus with all this background noise in your head?

Whatever. Not like it was going to be there for much longer.

Not like he was going to be there for much longer.

He heard the soft patter of footsteps. Some kind of deer, by the sound of it. He turned his head in what he was fairly sure was the direction of the sweet little woodland buddy and said drunkenly, "You know I ripped the teeth out of one of you once?" He giggled. "I put them back right after, don't worry."

"Uhhhh," the deer said.

Huh.

A talking deer was pretty new.

Before Bill had time to fully appreciate the ramifications of sentient cervids, however, the blackness that had been threatening the edges of his peripheral vision for a while now swept down upon him as if drawing the curtain on this unfortunate spectacle, and he knew no more.

The first thing Bill was acutely aware of when he awoke was that his jacket had been removed. He'd need to get that back. He liked that jacket. Maybe he could find a way to incorporate it into his regular outfit. Suits didn't really cooperate with triangular bodies, sadly. One of the benefits of being a human, he supposed. The very, very few benefits.

The second thing he was aware of very shortly after was a large, beaming grin taking up his entire field of vision.

Bill considered for a moment, before swiftly crashing his head into the offending mouth.

The grin and its owner fell back with a splash, giggling in a slightly strained manner. Bill laughed too, some good humor returning. Pain was a lot funnier when it happened to other people, he was finding.

Upon further examination of the scene, the grin was revealed to belong to a very familiar preteen, who was rubbing her teeth as she sat in what looked to be a small portable cart filled to the brim with water, smile still unfortunately in place. It didn't take keen observational skills (which Bill possessed in spades, but that's beside the point) to notice the shimmering cerise scales of her shiny new mermaid tail. He grinned. It would seem ol' Fluvius Cantatis had nabbed another victim besides himself.

"Ow," she said, still chuckling lightly. "You sure have a hard head. Though I guess I deserved that for the bear trap."

"That was yours?" He grunted in annoyance. "You're more trouble than you're worth, kid. Why did you even put them there?"

"To keep monsters away, duhhhhhh," she said, reaching over to boop his nose. "Where've you been?"

"Oh, lots of places," he said lightly. "Lots of places. I just came through here recently, actually. Think I might remember you. You were the one who gave that puppet show, weren't you? Loved it."

"Yeah, you could say it went out…WITH A BANG." She made finger pistols. "BOOSH."

"Oh, definitely. It felt like such an…EXPLOSIVE FINALE." He cackled. "Especially since I got front-row seats to the whole thing." He tapped his chin. "Something's different about you, though. New haircut?"

"Oh, yeah, the tail." She waved it around, showing off her smooth tailfin. "It's pretty great, right? Maybe I can visit Mermando now!" She paused. "He's a merman. We're totally soulmates."

"Cute," Bill said distractedly, already losing interest in the conversation. "Where's that brother of yours?"

"Oh, Dipper? He went to get Grunkle Stan." She grinned. "Heheh, he was pretty worried about you, all zonked out in the woods like that." Then the grin faded as realization hit. "Hang on, how do you know I have a –"

Bill was saved from having to cover his slip-up when the door swung open, distracting the both of them (much to Bill's relief – in all honesty, he was a horrible actor, mainly relying on his mind magic to fill in the gaps, which, being a human now, he had precisely none of), as a small deertaur entered the room, hurriedly pulling on the stony gray hand of a gargoyle, of all things. Bill had to stifle a snort. Trust Fluvius to get it right on the money. That old coot certainly had protective instinct to spare.

"All right, all right, I'm coming, kid," Stanford grumbled, snatching his hand away from the other's, causing him to stumble on his still-unsteady hooves, briefly scrabbling for purchase on the wooden floor. "I'm made of stone, I don't move like I used to."

"But what if he's really hurt? He had his leg caught in a bear trap and I'm pretty sure he was delirious!" Haha, oh, kid. He's always delirious. Stanford was having none of it, though, waving aside the kid's worries with a dismissive hand.

"Ah, come on, this stuff always looks worse than it is. I'm sure he's –" Stanford stopped abruptly as he caught sight of Bill, who was just realizing that, as a lanky, sandy-haired male wearing a very distinctively-patterned suit complete with little black bow tie and eye patch, he was perhaps not as well-disguised as he would like. He had a horrible feeling that Stanford was realizing that too.

Stupid, stupid stream.

Play it cool, Bill. He waved languidly. "Fine? Just dandy! I'm so touched you care." He fluttered his eyelashes. "You're Grunkle Stan, I'm assuming?" He smiled, wide and toothy. "Nice kids you got here." His grin widened as the old man's face went literally ashen. Good to see he still had his touch, even as a human.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." He stepped forward. "Go get some bandages for our, uh…guest, kids. I'm gonna have a little chat with him." Eagerly, the kids obeyed, Pine Tree carting his sister off to who knows where. She waved brightly at him as they left, the door closing shut behind them with an awful sort of finality. Slowly, Stan turned to Bill. His voice was deadly calm, though the tenseness of his wings gave away his inner fear and anxiety.

"I'm going to give you," he said softly, stepping towards the newly-mortal demon, "one chance to explain what the hell you're doing here, Bill."

Bill chuckled. "That's a stony disposition you've got there, Stanford. I'm not up to anything, I promise. Just passing by, that's all." He drew his face into an exaggerated pout (the human body was wonderful at expressions). "Can't I drop by and visit my favorite saps?"

"Not if it means endangering those two," he growled. "I made a promise to their parents. I'm not gonna let you harm a single hair on their heads."

"Hoo hoo. Spicy." He booped the angry gargoyle on the nose. "Always so protective of your kin." He grinned, a malicious glint entering his eyes. "Too bad you can't always save them in time, hm?"

With a roar that carried the force of an avalanche, Stanford lunged forward, knocking the wind out of Bill as he pinned him to the wall. Bill gasped, scrabbling uselessly at where his throat was being held uncomfortably tight by the gargoyle's iron grip.

"Don't you DARE bring him into this," he snarled. "You know I did everything I could have done."

"Sure – gak – sure didn't seem that way to me," he wheezed, chuckling breathily even as his face turned an odd shade of blue. "It's been thirty years, old man, and you're still guilty about it. Maybe – hahh – maybe that's because deep down you realize that it was all –" Stanford growled warningly, but Bill continued, smirking.

"Your – "

"DON'T SAY IT!"

"Fault," Bill whispered, leaning in and spitting the word in his face with the last of his air. Stanford screamed in a blind rage, and flung Bill away, slamming him into the opposite wall.

There was a sickening crack, and Bill screamed, high-pitched and pain-filled, slumping to the ground and cradling his arm, which hung at an unnerving angle. The sound seemed to snap Stanford out of his fury, and he turned, eyes widening as he took in the sight. He stepped forwards cautiously, looking at the demon with something almost akin to concern.

Bill didn't notice, or particularly care.

He was in pain. A lot of pain. He'd experienced pain before, naturally (a highly enjoyable romp with a certain meddling 12-year-old's body came to mind), but that, he realized, had been nothing compared to this. His arm was burning, searing with a fire that, for once, he could not control, and the sensation was unnerving, to say the least. He found himself, for the first time in a very, very, very long while, wishing he could simply cease to exist, or at the very least find something, anything, to make the fire stop.

Pain, he decided, was not hilarious.

Pain was not hilarious at all.

He felt a pair of heavyset arms pick him up and carry him to his original resting place, and he couldn't help but wince every time his arm was jostled. Gently, Stanford set him down, and looked awkwardly at the battered figure before him. Bill refused to meet his eyes.

"…You're hurt," he said finally. "I don't think I've ever seen you get hurt before. Heck, I didn't think it was possible."

"Shut up," Bill muttered bitterly, still nursing his arm.

"Did…did something happen –"

"No," Bill interrupted, tone just a tad harder than he'd intended it to be. He flinched, and it did not go unnoticed, as Stanford's eyes widened, a theory already forming.

"It was the river, wasn't it?" he said with a touch of wonder. "The, the Fluvuvie-something?"

"Fluvius Cantatis, and yes," Bill spat. "Yes, are you happy now, YES. Feast your eyes! The great and powerful Bill Cipher reduced to one of you fleshbags." He grimaced. "I don't know how the hell you stand it." He gestured to his arm. "What…" He glared at the broken limb as if it had committed a personal offense against him. "What is this? What did you do to me?"

Stanford blinked. "What? Oh. Oh, uh, it's. It's probably a broken arm."

"How do you fix it?"

The gargoyle couldn't help but chuckle. "Time, and keeping it real still."

"You're serious?" Bill looked at him incredulously as he nodded, grinning. "That's so slow."

"One of the perks of bein' a gargoyle. Got crazy healing powers." He cackled. "Ahh, man, this is rich! The only human in a town fulla monsters!"

"When I get my powers back, I am going to kill you all," Bill said, voice dripping with venom. Stanford simply patted him on the back, still chuckling good-naturedly.

"I can't take ya seriously when you're like this. You're like one of those yappy little dogs!"

Bill scowled. "I am a being of phenomenal cosmic power, you daft fool, and I will not be spoken to like that."

"Not right now ya aren't," he teased, poking the former demon in the side. Bill growled, swatting his hand away.

"Stanford Pines I swear I will wreak vengeance on you and your entire family –"

His vow was abruptly interrupted as the Wonder Twins barged in, Shooting Star managing to balance a box of bandages on her head as her twin frantically pulled the cart to a halt.

"Guess who got bandagesssssss~!" she sang out, then paused, looking at the scene before them. Both parties were significantly more disheveled than they had been when the pair had left, with the dapper gentleman clutching his arm and caught in the middle of yelling angrily at their great-uncle with an expression that was highly reminiscent of an angered kitten.

She raised an eyebrow. "Grunkle Staaaaaaan," she began accusingly.

Stan hurriedly cleared his throat. "Kids!" he said hurriedly. "This is Will, uh…Will Nemo! He's gonna be staying with us for a while until his arm and leg heal."

"Arm? But I thought his leg was the only thing that got hurt," Dipper said confusedly.

"His arm's broken too. Freak accident. Don't ask me to explain, I can't explain." He took on a decidedly shifty look. "Explain what? I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You're kind of terrible at this, aren't you, Stanford," Bill said flatly from behind the nervous gargoyle. He stood in one fluid motion, wincing slightly as he put weight on his injured foot but recovering nicely. He stepped forward, elegantly reaching out his good hand to the pair.

Mabel took the hand eagerly. "I'm Mabel! Mabel Pines. This is my brother Dipper."

"Hey," Dipper said, waving slightly.

Bill shook it firmly, feeling as if he was getting back on familiar ground at last. If there was one thing he was good at, it was shaking hands.

Oh yes, he was very good at shaking hands.

"Your grunkle already introduced me, but I'll do it again," he said smoothly. "Will Nemo, traveling magician." His grin would have put the Cheshire Cat to shame. "I can't wait to get to know you better."

This, he thought to himself as he allowed Mabel to sternly order him back to his seat so he could be bandaged, watching Stanford warily eyeing him from the corner, now this?

This was truly hilarious.