A/N: Holy Moly this is my first Gravity Falls fic. So let's kick it off with a bang. I can't wait to get this little side project going full gear. I'm a little worried about the sustainability of this idea though. We'll see how it goes.

Okay, Breathe in,

1...2...3...

Out,

1...2...3...

Dipper sighed shakily as his heart rate started to return to normal. The feeling returned to his hands and slowly, his body stopped trembling. He focused on the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, grounding him and bringing him back down to reality. He vigorously rubbed his face and groaned as he let go of his knees, he noted that the tightness in his throat had gone away. He stood up and opened the rusty door to the claustrophobic bathroom stall. The door gave a shrill squeak as he stumbled out into the bright restaurant.

He made his way back to the table he was sharing with his sister, she had gotten a haircut several months ago and her chestnut brown hair which now transitioned into dark pink highlights at the end, fell just below her chin. She flashed a giant signature Mabel smile as she saw him, in addition to changing her hair, she had gotten her braces off last winter and her teeth were now brighter than ever. She took a sip of her strawberry milkshake. Her eyes were fixed on him and followed him as he sat down, they showed deep concern. He looked to the floor in embarrassment.

"Was it a bad one?" She asked gently. He didn't want to admit to her that they were all bad ones. Continuing to look at the floor, the teenager rubbed the back of his neck nervously, hesitantly nodded his head, and wiped his clammy palms on his shirt.

"Well... do you want to go?" She prompted, taking a read on his body language, she knew it would turn into a very bad situation if she didn't get him out of there. He'd been having trouble since Weirdmageddon. The memory of what Bill did that summer had seemed to affect him a lot more than anyone else. She could almost always see it coming just by looking at him. She could tell his mind was about to attack itself internally and he would suffer for it. He always seemed to suffer for it. It was incredibly painful to witness his mind get swallowed by the void, and not be able to do anything to help him. The only thing she could do was provide a way out for her twin. While also letting him know he wasn't burdening her by having to leave early.

He nodded his head again, looking mildly defeated. His hands tightened into a pair of fists, which he hid below the table. Mabel, however, would not allow him to feel ashamed for wanting to escape a situation that made him uncomfortable.

"Let's go then!" She announced with excitement, abruptly jumping up from her seat, attracting the attention of several patrons at the nearby tables. "We can hang out in the woods, or go to the cliff and read some creepy comics."

"Look, Mabel, I...I think I just wanna go home and rest." He said sharply, his eyes darting around to the other customers, who had already resumed their meals. Looking out the window, he drew a lengthy, wavering breath. "I'm just really tired, we can do those another day." He muttered.

His panic attacks drained a lot of energy out of him, and he could barely keep his head up, the last thing he wanted to do was hike around the forest. His body felt like he had been hit full force by a train. All he could think about right now was climbing in bed and staying there indefinitely. Without hesitation, Mabel picked up her milkshake, finished the rest of it; and then grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door. They then made the journey home through the streets of the sleepy California town their parents had taken up residence in when they were just infants.

They entered the front yard, and noticed their mom was watering some flowers, paying no attention to the pair, as per usual. Their father was sat in the living room, reading a book. He didn't even lift his head to greet them as they passed to climb the stairs. As they entered the room they shared together, Mabel turned and pulled Dipper into a big bear hug. Awkward sibling hugs usually cured about 99.9% of their problems. But there were some things an awkward sibling hug could not cure. She ordered him to get in bed, and ran back downstairs, only to return a few minutes later with an enormous glass of water.

"Drink it, I read somewhere that drinking fluids will make you feel better." She sat across from him on her bed and watched as her brother downed the entire glass. She made sure he finished every drop. He sat it down on the table next to him and looked up at her sheepishly. She finally felt satisfied and ran her fingers through her hair. The fifteen-year-old grabbed a stuffed animal and hugged it closely while she talked. She looked at her brother and then to the TV across the room.

"So, do you want to watch a movie or something? There's a new crime documentary on Netflix." She suggested, reaching for the remote sitting on the table beside her. She leaned towards him as she eagerly awaited a response. She continued playing with her hair as she realized he wasn't going to answer her.

"If you just want to sleep, that's okay too." She reassured, he looked at her with a void expression on his face and slowly blinked his tired eyes.

"I think I'll just do that." He mumbled, rolling over and settling in the bed, closing his eyes.

Mabel watched her brother for a minute, studying him, feeling helpless to do anything. She wasn't used to this vulnerable Dipper. She just had to suck it up and be there for him when he needed her, and he needed her more than he ever had before. She turned off the lamp and paused a moment, it dawned on her that some sunlight still remained out. It hadn't even reached eight o' clock yet, and her twin had already passed out from exhaustion. She turned on a smaller lamp by her bed and rolled over, cracking open a book.

Dipper felt the coolness of the woods on his skin, the dirt beneath his toes, the strong, fresh, scent of conifer trees, he was running, he was back in Oregon. He ran for what seemed like miles, through endless woods, his lungs were burning with fire and still, he ran. He couldn't see whatever he was running from. He eventually took refuge behind a large tree. His legs gave and he slid down the trunk. The bark scraped him as he sat and stung his back. He had just caught his breath when he heard the most familiar chuckle.

Bill.

He sat upright in bed, his body was drenched in sweat. He tried to look at the time but the room was spinning violently. He leaned on his elbows to gain some stability. He hung his head over the edge of his bed and proceeded to dry-heave. Sweat dribbled down his forehead and onto the wood floor below. He relaxed and the room steadied, his vision slowly came back into focus.

As he gathered his senses and his breathing calmed, he realized it was three a.m; he then felt something wet on his back and realized his shirt was matted with blood. He slowly peeled the shirt away to discover some superficial but large scratches down his back; scratches that appeared like they were from sliding down a tree.

It was all a dream, he couldn't have been scratched in real life. Maybe he scratched himself with his nails? He didn't think that was possible, as some of the scratches were in places he wouldn't have been able to reach by himself. He looked across at Mabel, who was stirring in her sleep. He thought whether or not she had done it.He furiously shook his head. The teenager silently scolded himself, feeling guilty for even considering it.

He got out of his bed, turned on the shower and rinsed out his scratches with some hot water. He attempted to bandage it up himself but found it exceedingly difficult. He decided to just put on a fresh shirt and stick it out until he could have Mabel help him clean it up in the morning. He didn't know how he was going to explain this to his sister, as he didn't know how to explain this himself. He was still attempting to rationalize it in his head. He couldn't even begin to try and decipher what the dream meant. Much less come up with an explanation as to how he ended up with scratches on his body.

Dipper had experienced many bad dreams since that summer, but none as vivid, as real, as this. He thought back to what he'd heard. Bills laughter, his blood ran ice cold. He pressed his forehead to the bathroom wall and tried to shake it out of his mind. It remained. Of course it remained.

He walked back into the moonlit bedroom and tried to lay back down. He shut his eyes, but all he could hear was Bills' haunting laughter echoing continuously through his head. He rolled over and checked the time, it was now after four a.m. He sighed and sat back up, he pulled on some jeans over his boxers and tossed on a jacket. He grabbed his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and pressed a sticky note to the door, closing it quietly on his way out.

He headed out of town and made his way to a trail behind some bushes. Following that for a couple of miles. He then saw a familiar fallen tree, turned, and began heading West, he gripped his bag tightly. The sun started to rise above the treeline. The birds woke from their nests and began chirping. He continued on.

The morning sun shined in Mabels eyes as she woke up and glanced to the bed across from her to find it unoccupied, she paid it no second thought and figured maybe Dipper had already gone downstairs to eat breakfast. She went to go to the bathroom and was about to open the door when she caught sight of a sticky note. She read it carefully, she put her face in her hands and sighed, it said:

Heading to our spot at the cliff. Be back later. -Dipper