A/N: Takes place after "The Love God." This will be a two-parter, the two parts together making one "episode." I have ideas for consecutive episodes, but we'll see.
Wishing-Tree
Part 1
Mabel was at it again.
"He's just so dreamy," she gushed.
"That's what you said about Norman!" Dipper raged, clutching at his hair.
"Well, Sebastian is different!" she pouted in response. As always with her, the frown couldn't stay long. Soon enough, she was smiling away. "With a name like that, how could he not be?" she added, fluttering her eyes closed.
Dipper was certain there was something wrong with Sebastian. And by that, he meant that Sebastian had to be some evil gnome monster, or a vampire, or a zombie or – just, something! That was the kind of luck his sister had, and just the sort of weird person she always wrongly fell in love with.
"Dipperrrrr," Mabel said. "Come on! Is it so hard to believe I met a really good guy for once? Nothing spooky or weird about him!"
Jeez, it was like she knew exactly what he was thinking.
Dipper suddenly realized that the journal was out in his hand, ready for some research, and that his eyes had darted to it several times throughout their conversation.
He hastily shoved it back into his jacket. "I didn't say there was gonna be anything spooky about him!"
"Don't worry, bro-bro," Mabel said seriously. "Sebastian is the One. I know it. I even have the perfect sweater!" she squealed, tugging on her bright pink sweater for emphasis. 'YOU'RE MY TRUE LOVE' was scrawled across the front in rainbow letters.
"Mabel…" Dipper rubbed between his eyes. She couldn't wear something like that to a first date…
Before he could fit in a single word of protest, the doorbell rang. Mabel rushed past him in a blur of bubbly pink. Dipper listened as she raced down the stairs and – very loudly – greeted Sebastian.
Her newest obsession was some young teen with perfectly sculpted blonde hair and blue eyes - like those of a deep-sea squid. According to Mabel, at least. Dipper didn't think that was much of a compliment but there was no helping the strangeness of his sister. Anyway, Dipper didn't think his eyes were unique at all.
In his opinion, Sebastian was too old for Mabel. And not good enough for her. If he wasn't some demon or zombie or monster, then he was a regular human who would inevitably break Mabel's heart. It always happened; why would Sebastian be any different?
His sister was super likeable, but all her relationships ended in heartbreak. Dipper was convinced Sebastian would do the same. Just like every other time, Mabel would bounce right back… but the experience would be just another chip on her confidence.
Dipper wasn't sure how much more of the same pattern she – or he – could take.
"There's gotta be something in the journal about this," he muttered to himself, and headed up to his shared room. There he brooded over the journal, because he'd gotten used to it being a solution to nearly all his problems.
Love being an annoyingly universal topic, he figured there must be something in the journal that would help him. Page after page of beasts, monsters, demons… The journal fell open to a rough sketch of a….
Dipper's eyes narrowed. A tree? Was that a tree? At first it seemed only like a gnarled, aged face, with wicked eyes and a deceptive smile carved into wood, but the more he looked at it, he guessed that the decorative swirls arising from the face could be branches and leaves, and the bottom could be the roots.
This did make sense, after all, with the scrawled title 'WISHING-TREE.'
Not expecting much, Dipper scanned the text beside the illustration. The more he read, the wider his grin spread.
This sounded perfect.
"East… no…. north… no…" Dipper twisted to his left and frowned down at the compass, which he suspected was broken. He had temporarily borrowed it from Stan without asking, so he wasn't really sure about its accuracy.
Unfortunately, Dipper was already deep into the forest and, as some would say, lost.
The book described the tree's location in respect to other notable monuments around Gravity Falls, but Dipper \ ended up without any idea about where he was; much, much less about the darned Wishing-Tree itself.
He could have sworn he'd gone in the right direction after passing that brook… but then again, he also passed that pile of stones, which hadn't been accounted for in the journal. Perhaps the journal hadn't given a complete –
"You're looking for me, aren't you?" A low voice said.
Dipper whipped around and found himself eye-to-eye with a giant living tree.
Dipper let out the most unmanly screech. His arms went flailing and his butt struck the dirt. The journal and compass both landed several feet away.
"Dipper Pines," sighed the Tree, "regretful that we meet."
"Uhhh…"
Although the Tree had been smiling rather manically in its sketch in the journal, it couldn't quite muster up the effort in person. Instead, its wood-carven mouth was down-turned and weary-looking.
It was, however, unmistakably the tree that the journal described.
Dipper collected his dropped items and scrambled to his feet. "I need your help! I need a wish from you."
"Everyone does," sighed the Tree.
"I wish that my sister would stop getting her heart broken practically every week!"
"Love," the Tree groaned. "Everyone asks about love."
"Can you do it?" Dipper leaned in.
"You don't want to wish that."
Dipper nodded. "That's my wish."
"Love-wishes are always awful," the Tree whined.
"Okay okay," Dipper said, "I get it. Will you please grant my wish?"
"It is done," said the Tree with slow resignation. "Just like they all ask."
Dipper snapped his book closed victoriously. Well, that was easier than he'd expected! He should have gone to this Wishing-Tree ages ago. Imagine all the ways it could have helped him and his sister!
He wasn't sure how exactly he would find out if the spell worked or not, but he was ready to head home and find out.
It was morning.
Last night, Dipper had returned much later than he'd set out – something must have been funky with time near the Tree (he'd have to investigate that later), and on his arrival to the Shack, Mabel had already been fast asleep in her bed.
As eager as he was to learn if the wish had worked or not, Dipper chose not to disturb her and instead spent a restless night trying not to fret over his decision. It had simply been too easy, which pretty much never happened. Everything always got complicated by something else in the end – like his simple plan to go back in time that turned into a ridiculous mess of racing around through a hundred different time periods.
Dipper also made great efforts to not eat his shirt. Twice he failed and had to yank the material out of his teeth with a groan of frustration.
Finally sleep took him. He only woke once the harsh rays of sunlight pierced through the window and glared over his eyelids.
Instantly remembering last night's little detour with the Wishing-Tree, he bolted downstairs. As usual, Stan and Mable were both already awake, and in varying stages of lively-ness. Stan sipped coffee and ignored his niece and nephew by means of the newspaper. Mabel was… just staring out the window. Her eyes looked distant. Sad, even.
There was no horrific (but comfortingly familiar) "Mabel-juice" sitting predatorily on the table, like the spawn of nightmares and coffee. Stan appeared to be relieved.
"Hey Mabel!" Dipper swung around the table and plopped in the chair opposite Mabel.
"Heya, Dipper," Mabel answered, without any of her usual enthusiasm.
A furrow formed over Dipper's brow. "How'd your date go?" Seemed only fitting to ask about that, after all. Normally by this time she'd be gushing all about it – or else trying to be optimistic in the instance it went badly.
Mabel shrugged nonchalantly. "It was all right."
Dipper blinked. All right? He folded his hands over the table and leaned in. "Anything unusual happen?" he prodded. "Like maybe you felt you weren't so interested in him?"
Mabel frowned. "I guess. He was boring. I went home early and just slept."
Which meant she had no further interest, and Sebastian couldn't break her heart! Now she wasn't in any risk of being hurt like that. Plus, if she wasn't fawning over different boys every week, she'd actually have time to unlock the secrets of the journal with him.
"Think the Mystery Twins could go out and explore today?" Dipper suggested, happily using the term that Mabel had coined. "There's still loads of cool stuff we haven't looked into yet." He thought of the odd time-issue around the Tree, but decided against mentioning it due to the fact he didn't really want to bring Mabel close to the Tree. The thought felt ugly and deceptive. He didn't keep much from Mabel, and doing so felt wrong. He quickly veered away from those thoughts.
"We haven't got to see everything the blacklight shows," he continued hastily. "All the new stuff on old pages."
All this time, Mabel hadn't shown an ounce of interest. Her eyes drifted back out to the window. "I dunno," she said dully. "I don't really want to do anything."
Now that – that was too scary. "You don't want to do anything?" he echoed.
She shrugged.
"We could bedazzle Soos."
Shrug.
"Have a dance party?"
Shrug.
"Howl at the moon?"
Shrug.
"Read age-inappropriate romance novels?"
Mabel sighed. "I just don't feel like doing much, Dipper. Maybe tomorrow."
"Yeah, tomorrow," he said sullenly.
"MabelMabelMabel!" Dipper shot into their room, and bounced onto Mabel's bed. "Look what I found!" He shoved the journal under her nose. "There's a monster that vomits rainbows and gold! That's crazy! Let's go find it!"
Mabel barely glanced at the page. "That's neat," she said dully, followed by a dispirited "whop."
Dipper groaned. Nothing he did could inspire Mabel to be her old happy fun-loving self! Even her sweater now was a dull brown without a single word – he didn't even know she owned a sweater like that!
Mabel was not Mabel.
She pushed him away and trundled out of the room.
Dipper frowned down at the journal. "Stan would like a monster that vomits gold."
Dipper didn't know exactly what was wrong with Mabel, but several days passed without any change in her temperament. It was downright painful, trying to be the always-cheerful one of the two. Heck, it was downright painful seeing an indifferent Mabel!
Whatever the problem, he knew it was because of his wish to the Tree. It had all started after that.
He obviously needed to visit the Wishing-Tree again and inform it that it had granted the wish all wrong.
He stomped back to the forest, got lost a few times, fell down a crevice in the ground, and finally came upon the Tree with his hair riddled with leaves and his non-existent dignity much bruised.
"Hey, I want a refund!" Dipper declared as he approached, using one of Stan's words. "The wish isn't what I wanted!"
The Wishing-Tree gazed at him mournfully. "No one ever knows what they really wish for," it sighed, "and then they come and blame me."
"I wish that I never wished for anything from you!"
"Can't do that."
"You don't understand, my sister isn't like my sister anymore! She's acting like somebody else."
"Nope," the Tree said slowly. "That's what happens when you take away something that defines a person."
"Wait…" Dipper's eyes narrowed. "You took away… That's it. You didn't just take away her boy-craziness. You took away her ability to love anything!"
"Isn't that what you asked for?" the Tree asked. "You wished that her heart would not be broken. The surest way to that end is removing her heart entirely."
"You tricked me!" Dipper announced. "You knew this would happen."
The Tree closed its eyes. "I also tried to warn you. You insisted."
"No, I didn-" Dipper faltered. Now that he thought about it, the Wishing-Tree had tried to warn him. Dangit! He angrily bumped his fist against his forehead. How could he be so stupid? Hadn't he learned not to meddle with people's lives – especially not his sister's! She'd been perfect the way she was before, and now he'd gone and messed everything up.
He turned back to the Tree with new fervor. "Then let me have another wish. I want to reverse any effect of the old wish, like it never happened."
"I told you," the Tree droned, "I cannot grant that wish."
"No, no, no," Dipper shook his head. "You have got to. Mabel can't stay the way she is. Stan has started giving her all the chores because she won't complain. That's my job! I'm the one Stan is supposed to pick on!"
"I can't help you."
"Why, I oughta…" Dipper pushed up his sleeves and aggressively approached the Tree. It stared flatly at him, unafraid and unamused.
"Grrrr!" Dipper threw down his fists and paced back and forth. "Isn't there anything you can do?"
"My power is much weakened," the Tree said. "Perhaps if you wait ten years, I will be ready to grant another wish."
"Ten years?" he gaped. A whole ten years of a love-less Mabel? No way.
He couldn't let that happen. There had to be something else that could fix it…
He returned to his room to mull over the journal. But no matter how many pages he flipped through, he couldn't find a single one that would seem to help him. The Wishing-Tree had been his only catch-all solution, and now it wasn't granting any wish of his.
His hasty searching eventually landed him on a page he could do without seeing for a very long time. Tiny black lettering crossed out with vicious red strokes, an odd sketch of the human mind, a very unsavory one-eyed triangle. Yeah, that page.
He angrily flicked past it, and then paused. No. No, he wasn't really considering that. No matter how bad things got, he wouldn't ever consider that.
Slowly, he turned back to Bill Cipher's page. There again, in bright red letters, "DO NOT SUMMON AT ALL COSTS." Now Dipper understood why. If their first encounter in Stan's mind hadn't been bad enough, he had all those awful Sock Opera memories to show him how terrible Bill could be.
Worse, Dipper felt that everything they knew of Bill Cipher so far was only a tiny hint into his nature and power.
Feeling sick, Dipper closed the journal. Already a little over a week had passed without the slightest change in Mabel's behavior. He didn't think he could bear any more, but… to go so far as to ask Bill for help?
Leaving the journal on his bed, he slunk downstairs into the living room.
As usual, Grunkle Stan could be found here, watching TV with a very absorbed expression.
"Um, Stan?" Dipper said tentatively.
"Ahhh!" Stan fumbled for the remote and switched the TV to babies fighting. "I wasn't watching a soap opera!" he yelled.
"O-kay," Dipper said.
"That's right!"
"Right," Dipper repeated. "Grunkle Stan?"
"Nothin' like watching two people wailin' on each other," Stan added loudly, wiping away a tear. "Quality TV right here. This is the stuff you oughta watch, kid."
"Actually," Dipper said, "I had something I needed to ask you."
Stan grunted in what Dipper guessed was a receptive manner. His eyes, almost too attentive, didn't leave the TV.
"If I did something maybe really bad, should I do something that might be worse to make it better?"
Stan sat up sharply. "Who'd you kill?"
"No – I mean, wait what?"
"Oh. Not that kinda bad?" Stan grunted and turned back to the TV. "Do what you gotta do, kid. And if the cops get involved, call me. I got your back."
Well, that was reassuring, in an ominous and not-totally-okay way. But Dipper had a feeling his supernatural problems lay outside of the police's capabilities.
He would have liked to consult Mabel for further advice, but suspected her advice wouldn't be much good at the moment. He wandered out of the living room and back upstairs, to pace within his room. Luckily, Mabel herself was off elsewhere, and wouldn't disturb his angsty pacing.
There wasn't anything more to be done about it, then. He either let Mabel stay heartless and despondent, or he risked asking Bill for help.
When it came to his sister, there really wasn't much choice. He needed to contact Bill Cipher.
Unfortunately, dream demons didn't actually come equipped with cell phones or pagers, and Dipper hadn't seen Bill since the whole sock opera incident.
The journal demanded that he not be summoned, which implied he could be summoned. But no summoning ritual or rite was included in the journal itself. How was an omnipotent triangle supposed to be called upon, anyway?
Last time, Bill had just shown up all on his own when Dipper needed help. Which… actually, was pretty creepy.
I'll be watching you….
I've been keeping an eye on you..
Dipper shivered. Unnerving as Bill's words were, they… might be useful, if the demon had been telling the truth.
"Bill Cipher?" he called out, feeling one part stupid and one part crazy. Only silence answered him.
He cleared his throat. "Uh, weird triangle guy? I… I might need your help."
Nothing.
So much for always watching! Maybe Bill wasn't as all-knowing as he claimed. Plus side, it meant Dipper actually did have a little something called privacy.
Down-side, it meant he needed to find out how to actually summon him.
Scowling, he hopped off the bed and tread to the door. He'd just have to -
The room exploded.
Putting it any other way would be wrong, because quite literally the walls of the room burst outward in a terrible flare of yellow light. Beds, dresser, lamp, books, mini golf clubs – all of it went flying past Dipper's head as he screamed. The floor dropped out from beneath his feet, and abruptly he was reeling in a horrid vortex of blinding white-light and spinning objects and –
He blinked. The room was perfectly normal, just as it always had been. Not a single object out of place.
Behind him rang out a sing-song voice;
"Hey, Pine-Tree! Looks like someone wants to make a de-eal!"