The Pines family was holding a party. How cute.

Bill could really go for a party right now, decades of being locked away in the Dreamscape not serving him very well in terms of entertainment, but sadly he couldn't attend. That was the trouble with being a Dream Demon; you were an intangible and immaterial being. He missed having a body of his own. Thankfully, his bodily state had nothing to do with whether or not he could watch. So watch he did.

That Dipper had gotten himself into another spot of trouble for what seemed like the fiftieth time this week. That boy, Pine Tree as Bill saw him, was going to be a real pain in the triangle's side. He kept poking his nose where it didn't belong, trying to discover secrets that didn't want to be found, and inadvertently messing up components in a plan centuries in the making.

What a nuisance! Still, he wouldn't be on the Cipher Wheel if he was normal and boring, now would he? Bill would have to do something about him though, lest the demon's plans be dashed. Not that he was worried the boy could be any real threat.

Speaking of Dipper, a clone of the aforementioned boy was fleeing the Mystery Shack at this very moment. He seemed horrified as he ran into the woods, not knowing where to go or what to do, vulnerable and shaking. Bill decided to follow him; after all, it was only a matter of time before he fell asleep.

Into the woods the clone did flee. Twigs, leaves, and pine needles cracked under his pounding feet as he ran. He was too afraid to look back. His heart pounded loudly, or so he assumed it was his heart. For all he knew, it was a figment of his imagination and he was nothing more than a blob of magic ink. Something that looked like it should have been human, but wasn't. A pale mimic, not real, disposable.

Terror roared in his ears, his vision blurring sharply and the trees seeming to twist and writhe around him. He continued like this anyway until he went skidding down a hill, finally forced to stop for a moment. He didn't want to break something, assuming he could break. Tyrone could feel the cool air against his skin and so assumed that if nothing else he could feel. He certainly felt scared.

And he could think. He had nearly died only hours after his creation, all because Dipper and the others wouldn't share a girl. Now he was maybe the only one left, except for three and four, who had disappeared on Robbie's bike before he was sure if they'd been melted. He wasn't human, just a disposable blob of magic ink on low-quality paper, but he wanted to live, dammit! He'd left as fast as he could, running through the crowds and into the woods.

Bill followed after the boy, undetected as he hovered in another plane of existence altogether. The demon bobbed cheerfully in the air behind him, the clone being the only splash of color Bill could focus on in his grayscale world. The ink monster was young, only born a few hours ago, naive, and desperate. The perfect sort to make a deal with.

The boy, for surely he was that even if he wasn't fully flesh and blood, bent over with his hands braced on his thighs, breathing heavily as he sunk down to his knees. He hoped he wasn't being pursued. His legs were jello, he couldn't run anymore, and he could feel exhaustion creeping in where adrenaline had been moments before. Sleep threatened him.

Bill waited nearby as the boy sat down heavily, trying to catch his breath, tiredness seeping in. The triangular creature willed the clone to sleep.

Tyrone pressed his back to a tree, slowly calming his heart to a regular pace (the one he had to have because he couldn't just be ink he couldn't). The clone looked back the way he'd come, relatively sure that Dipper wouldn't be hunting him down. It didn't seem a Dipper-like thing to do. Hoping he was right, the brunette lay his head back. His eyes fell shut and his breathing evened out as the last panicked energy fled from his body.

There we go! Finally! It only took the boy a few minutes to fall asleep, but who could blame him? Poor little thing, so scared for his life... Almost reminded Bill of a kicked kitten at an animal shelter. He almost sarcastically cooed at the thought. The boy's colors grew stronger to Bill's eye as he fell asleep, and the triangle noted he really was a perfect replica except for some desaturation. Poor kid, must be hell for his sense of self being a clone.

"Hey, kiddo!" he called, circling around the clone's head, "Open your eyes! You're dreaming now, it's safe."

Tyrone, poor, frightened Tyrone, who hadn't done anything (except lock Dipper in a closet in order to dance with a pretty girl, which was pretty innocent in regards to what Dipper just did) was very nearly thrown into an inky cardiac arrest when someone started talking at him. He was supposed to be alone. He jumped in fright, his eyes snapping open as he lunged. He fell flat on his face in the world of pure imagination.

Bill jumped back, narrowly avoiding being taken down with the boy. He floated away to a safer distance, holding up his hands in an attempt to calm down the clone. "Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, Fade-Out, you're fine."

"Fade-Out?" Tyrone mumbled against the ground, pushing himself onto his hands and knees before shaking his head vigorously to clear out the cobwebs. He looked around, eyes locking on... a triangle.

A floating triangle. That glowed. And had a face- well, an eye.

He stared, mouth hanging open, for a long moment. He snapped it closed, only to open it again for words. "How hard did I just hit my head?"

The triangle eye-smiled down at the boy, trying to look as friendly as possible. He twirled his cane with one hand, reclining against an invisible wall. "You actually didn't," Bill said, checking the imaginary nails on his free hand casually, "I said you were dreaming, didn't I?"

"The name's Bill. Bill Cipher. Please to meet you, I'm a Dream-" Shouldn't say demon, that might scare him off, "-Weaver," he finished lamely.

The triangle was talking. Did it, or he, even have a mouth? It looked like just an eye. "Dream... Weaver? That's kind of lame," he deadpanned. Very lame in fact.

And who named their kid Bill Cipher? Was he supposed to be a detective? Or some kind of serial killer? A shiver traveled down Tyrone's spine at the second thought. Hopefully not.

"Hey, kid! Don't you be disrespecting me!" Bill huffed, his cane poofing out of existence to allow him to cross his arms over his not-chest, "Dream Weaving a serious and important job! I only showed up because it looked like you were about to have a doozy of a nightmare, but if you'd prefer me to go and leave you to it..."

"Er, no, no, that's okay! You can stay."

A nightmare on top of the day he'd already had? Wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake. Tyrone nearly snorted at the thought. Happy birthday to him. "What exactly is it you do, as a Dream Weaver?" He didn't see any looms around so assumable that was metaphorical.

"Well, I live here," Bill said, gesturing to the world around him, "in the Dreamscape. I can pop into the dreams of whoever is sleeping, make sure everything is in order, keep away nightmares, etc. If I'm feeling especially crafty, I can make them a dream from scratch. Although I only ever really did that to reward my followers." Bill sighed. He missed having a cult.

"I came here to investigate Gravity Falls a long time ago," true, "There's a lot of supernatural activity in this place, things that gave people nightmares, that I came to stop. " true-ish. "But, haha, I got trapped here. I can't leave the area of Gravity Falls anymore, and now I'm stuck in the Dreamscape as well. You should know all about the supernatural considering you're a clone, Fade-Out."

The boy stood up, clenching his jaw. "My name is Tyrone, not Fade-Out," the clone declared. He didn't mention that he doubted he knew half as much as Bill did about the supernatural. Questions were swirling around his inky brain, each begging to be addressed and answered.

Bill stood up a little straighter, eye widening a bit in false surprise. "Oh. So, I'm guessing you don't know?" He must not, considering that he gave himself a name. An attempt to have an identity of his own, perhaps? "Such a shame you know so little about your own kind, bucko."

Tyrone squinted at him, liking neither the tone nor the implications. "I don't know what?" That was no doubt a very long list, but he was relatively certain Bill knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Before I answer that, kiddo, let me ask you something. You seemed pretty shaken... Tell me, were there others?"

Tyrone tensed minutely. "Yeah, a few," he gave Bill a suspicious look, "why?"

"What happened to them, Tyrone?"

Very carefully, very quietly, he replied. "They... melted."

"Water, I'm guessing?" Bill asked. He didn't wait for an answer. He stopped leaning on the invisible wall, standing up straight. He poofed his cane back into existence, placing it in front of him and leaning forwards onto it. "That's what you were running away from, wasn't it? The original didn't want you anymore, kiddo, but you didn't want to die. Well, I'm sorry Fade-Out, but there's something you don't know..."

"Clones have a time limit, friend. In a month, 30 nights including this one, you're colors will wash away and you'll die too!" Bill could have snickered, but he had to be serious if he wanted to make a deal.

Tyrone blanched. There was no way that was true. No way. It had to be a lie! Yet, why would Bill want to lie to him? There wasn't any way for it to benefit him that the clone could see... "I've only got a month to live, on top of being vulnerable to something the world is 80% covered in?" He repeated numbly.

Bill nodded sadly. "Sorry, kid, tough break you got there. Just born and you only have thirty days..." Bill sighed wistfully, leaning back to float into a reclined position, "I wish I could help you..."

Suddenly frantic, Tyrone spoke up. "There's gotta be something you can do, or I can do, or someone! I can't die yet!"

"Well, I technically could, but not like this," Bill said, shrugging, "Most people don't agree to my terms anyway. They don't seem to like me very much." This was good. The little clone really wanted to live.

He couldn't die. He didn't want to! He had a name and a face and he wanted to live! "What do you mean 'like this'? What terms?" he asked, turning to Bill. If there was a way...

"You see, I technically have all my usual powers in the real world too, but I can't go there. I'm simply a spiritual creature with no physical form to interact in the real world with. I could make you flesh just as I could form a dream, but I need a body," Bill explained, floating closer to Tyrone.

"The twist is, kiddo... you could let me share yourbody. Then it wouldn't just be yours, but mine! And I could make it flesh, haha! You could touch water, you could live without a time limit, and with me inside helping you, you could be powerful! All I'd need is some space in your brain to live, just a place rest my little head occasionally, and use of our shared body when I have business to attend to." He left the last part vague, hoping Tyrone wouldn't dwell on it.

"You could live. What do you say, kid, you willing to have a roommate in your noggin?"

The immediate answer threatened to burst from his lips before he could quell the desire and think it over. Yes. The prospect of life, true life, nearly drowning out all else. All Bill needed was to split his body, right? That shouldn't be a problem, but something was bugging him. He shook it off. He doubted he would say no regardless of what the triangle's mission exactly entailed. He would find out eventually, right?

Tyrone squared his shoulders, looking up at Bill. "When do you move in?"

Bill grinned, the lack of mouth confining the expression to a simple eye-smile. He floated to be on level with the clone, extending his hand. "Right now," he answered, "we just have to shake on it." Cool, blue flame spread out from the triangle's palm to cover his hand and forearm. It didn't give off heat like normal fire, nor did it seem to hurt at all.

"Deal?"

"Deal."

As Tyrone took Bills hand in his, he couldn't help but feel that he'd just made a deal with the devil. So long as he lived, did it really even matter?

Bill smiled again, feeling inwardly pleased with himself. This had to be one of the easiest deals he'd ever made, he loved working with kids. He grasped Tyrone's arm with his other hand, squeezing a bit as the skin crinkled like paper. Huh, so he really was made from a photocopier...

"This is going to hurt," he warned, preparing to enter the mind of his new 'roommate' and fulfill his end of the bargain, "and you're going to wake up and be conscious for it. Nothing I can do about that, kid, sorry. Paper and ink is a bit different than flesh and blood." He didn't give him a chance to respond before he'd pulled himself in and made his place in the clone's mind. Their shared body began its conversion.

'Hurt' was putting it mildly. His body was peeling like a blooming flower, changing from what looked like botched origami to a fleshy abomination as Tyrone's fragile previous form burnt to ashes.

Transforming paper and ink to flesh and blood could be compared to having your bones liquidized, morphed, solidified, rearranged, and put back together. In fact, that could very well be what was happening. It was a bit hard to tell as new muscle grew forth from the new bones, threatening to tear through skin that didn't exist yet as nerves, honest-to-god nerves, came to life under the flesh.

'Hurt' barely scratched the surface.

Bill could do nothing more but sit tight in Tyrone's mind and wait out the transformation. Luckily, the boy wasn't able to thrash around very much as his limbs were ripped to shreds and remade, or even able to scream for the bulk of it as his vocal cords were formed along with his lungs and other organs. Bill tried to comfort his new roommate, hushing the mental agony as best he could if he couldn't touch the physical aspect of it. Best make sure any memories formed here were vague, that his vessel wouldn't remember in a few minutes, no use having a puppet with PTSD.

Tyrone slowly reformed from an eldritch explosion into a boy again, skin finally knitting itself closed to cover gaping wounds and rapidly filling blood vessels. A few minutes later, Tyrone lay in the grass staring up at the stars and breathing heavily. He was warm, and alive, and solid. His clothing was still paper, but had fortunately not been destroyed with all his struggling in the final throes. They'd get him new clothing later.

Once Tyrone's panting died down, Bill spoke up. "What did I tell you? You're alive now, kid! You got blood, organs, skin, the whole works!"

"Yeah," the boy, the real, live, living boy, gasped, "you weren't lying." The thudding in his ears told him he should slow the whole breathing (he could breathe!) thing down a bit. Now, that was definitely a heartbeat! Slowly, testing out his new limbs, seeing what night air really felt like, what grass truly was, Tyrone sat up. He was almost giddy. He was real! "Thanks, Bill, you're a life saver! Er, life giver?"

"Haha! No problem, bucko," Bill said, waving him off. His voice was a bit echoey, coming from inside Tyrone's head, "Tyrone, was it? We should probably go find some shelter before you catch some human illness. Then we can talk about what to do with that Dipper Pines..."

Bill's voice lowered, "He's the one who did this to you, right? Made you for his own selfish purposes, killed your brothers when he had no more use for them, was going to kill you... I think a bit of revenge is in order, kid. But first, shelter. And don't you humans need food? And water."

That's right. Dipper. A flash of anger shot through Tyrone. All of what Bill was saying was true; Dipper had made them, thrown away their very purpose for existing, and then proceeded to eliminate the rest of the batch. For an instant, Tyrone considered marching back to the Mystery Shack and giving the Pines boy a piece of his mind. Bill's other words rang true as well, though.

"Yeah, shelter would be a good idea. Just got lungs, don't think I want pneumonia to go with them... As for food, yeah, humans do need it. It's not just me though, you're stuck with it too, don't forget."

Good. This was good. Fade-Out was very receptive to suggestion, even when Bill wasn't manipulating his mind he seemed to follow what the demon said. How silly of him, to trust so quickly... But he was just like Dipper. Gullible and in way over his head.

Now that he had a replacement for Pine Tree that would listen to him, all he needed was to get rid of the original... Shooting Star wasn't a problem, she was less ambitious for the supernatural on her own, and once Fade-Out took Pine Tree's place he wouldn't be running off and messing with Bill's plans like Dipper did. Shooting Star wouldn't be getting in his way if Pine Tree didn't lead her to. What a bad influence that boy was...

Bill sighed, frowning. "Yeah, I suppose so. I hope you know I plan on letting you take care of the boring body stuff though. Let's go find some sustenance for our shared carapace."

"Can we, I dunno, forage for berries or something? Or would the ones here kill us. Me, at least. Can you die?" Tyrone was rambling a bit, standing up and stretching out his newly created muscles. Good Lord, did that feel nice! When his back popped...

Bill snorted a laugh. "When you're done moaning like a porn star, I think we should head into town. I know ways we can get money enough for a meal and a room for the night. Just a bit of friendly pickpocketing... We can get some odd jobs tomorrow."

"I-I was not!" Tyrone sputtered indignantly, face heating (so that was a blush), "and you want to steal? Isn't that wrong?" He was pretty sure it was.

"It's not wrong if you don't get caught," Bill singsonged. Tyrone may have Dipper's memories, but he was still a newborn. A lump of clay for Bill to mold... Stumbling upon him sure was lucky! "Besides, these are dire circumstances, kid. You don't want to starve or freeze, do you? Not when you just came alive..."

"Okay, fair point. Just enough for the night though, okay? I'm sure those people need their money too," and stealing still sounded wrong. Or maybe that was the Dipper left in him? His face scrunched up at the thought.

Bill could tell what Tyrone was thinking, and a phantom hand could be felt patting the clone's approvingly. Yes, the more he hated Dipper the easier it would be. The more he listened the faster this would go. "Alright, head out of the forest and towards town. Where would have a lot of people this time of night?"

Tyrone scratched his head idly, careful not to tear his hat, and turned towards the road that would lead to civilization. "Downtown, I think, has a few people that come out late, but most everyone in town was at the party. Last I checked, anyway."

Bill nodded. "It would be a bad idea to go back to the party... Go downtown and look for a few drunks. They'll either be passed out or too weak to fight you at this time of night."

"Fight?" Tyrone repeated, nervousness tugging at his innards. He could maybe, maybe get a wallet, but fight? He was tiny!

"Don't worry, friend," Bill assured, "I'll take care of it. Just do as I say, and you won't get into any trouble. You're small and fast, if anything bad happens you can just run."

"Friend?" Tyrone asked, his feet striking the pavement of the road as he turned towards town. He'd trusted Bill so far, why stop now?

Bill nodded, although Tyrone couldn't see it, humming in affirmation. "Yuppers; friend. I like you, kid, wouldn't have helped otherwise."

"You sure you didn't just want a body to walk around in?" Tyrone teased, tilting his head to look up at the stars. Bill sputtered.

"Of course not! I'm being completely sincere!" he stated, mock-offense dripping from his words. Tyrone snickered to himself. He'd had a feeling that was the case, and Bill had all but confirmed it now. But the clone was alive now, really alive, so it didn't matter what Bill had really wanted of him because it was worth it. Ahead of him lights shone, marking the town.

Bill took a place at the front of Tyrone's mind, keeping an eye out for potential marks. A few minutes later, he spoke up. "Hey, kid, you might want to answer me in your head from now on. Don't want to get thrown in a bedlam, now do we?"

"See that man slumped against the wall there, beside the dumpster? He's sleeping. Wallet's in his coat pocket," Bill told him, instructing him to swipe the money when no one was looking.

"Into a what?" He questioned, responding in his head as he walked 'casually ' over to the man. He didn't even want to know how Bill knew where the wallet was, instead he focused on retrieving it.

"Bedlam. Asylum. Mad house. Hospital for crazy people," Bill clarified. He told Tyrone to hide quickly once he got the wallet; someone was coming. Tyrone followed his instructions; keeping quiet and light on his feet, which was harder now that he wasn't made of paper. After they retreated deeper into the alley, he told Tyrone to check how much was in the wallet. There was maybe enough for a cheap motel room, if dinner consisted of instant ramen.

It would have to do though, unless Tyrone wanted to risk his luck on another drunk. Bill directed his roommate to a nearby convenience store and a motel with minimum bed bugs and mold.

"How do you know where everything is?" Tyrone questioned a while later, after he'd been given a key and was out of earshot of the front desk, "and why are you on so many things?" He'd noticed it in the store and found it in Dipper's memories. Windows, cards, money, the book. Lots.

"I know lots of things," Bill said, shrugging, "And triangles are how I do it. They're like my little eyes everywhere. If it's a triangle and in Gravity Falls, I can see out of it. I put them up before I got trapped in the Dreamscape."

"Any triangle at all, or does it have to be with an eye in the middle?" he asked as he unlocked the door. He entered the tiny room and glanced around, "How'd you get stuck anyway?"

"Oh, any triangle but eyes help," Bill answered. He paused a moment before deciding on telling a mostly-lie with a dash of truth; a theory he knew people, and Tyrone, would be prone to believe. He added a twist of demonizing the Pines family as well, the sooner Tyrone truly loathed them the better.

"Dipper's grandfather, Stanley, put me in the Dreamscape. He was making a machine to another dimension, an ultimate power, and I tried to stop him. We fought, I lost, he trapped me in the Dreamscape, but got sucked into an alternate world himself. Now, Stanford is trying to pick up where he left off. Stanley wrote the journals and it is very important we don't let all three of them come together into the wrong hands. They have the blueprints for the machine."

"How would an alternate dimension offer ultimate power?" Tyrone asked, ignoring the immature part of his brain that wondered if Bill ever accidentally spied through a triangle in a bathroom. The room was dirty, though not completely coated in filth. That was... something, at least.

Bill shrugged. "You'd be amazed what's out there, kid. Although if I were you. I wouldn't get too curious about it. Ultimate power only leads to trouble, and you'd be much happier living as normally as Gravity Falls allows you to. The point is, we have to get that journal from Dipper before Stan gets it."

"Can't we just get one and burn it or something? Then it wouldn't matter if he had the others, right?" Tyrone suggested, still inspecting the room.

"Tyrone, we don't burn knowledge! I have somewhere to store them where they'll be safe. There is very important information on monster hunting in those books." Bill sounded horrified. Really, the demon just needed them intact.

"But if knowledge is dangerous, wouldn't it be better if it was lost?" he tried to reason, checking the mattress for insects.

"Trust me, kid," Bill said, "Have I lead you astray yet?"

'Yet?'

"No, you haven't."

'Yet' implied that he one day would, though.

"You're reading too much into my choice of words," Bill deadpanned, "Go eat something and maybe take a bath. You've been running around in the wilderness."

"Sorry, it's just the last guy that gave me life tried to take it if you'll remember," Tyrone grumbled, almost bitterly, as he skulked off to the bathroom.

"I don't blame you. I've been watching Pine Tree for awhile, and he keeps poking his nose into where it doesn't belong for no good reason. And he drags his sister into it."

"I know he gets in a lot of trouble, but what exactly constitutes as 'doesn't belong'?"

"In ancient artifacts and supernatural creatures. Trying to satisfy his own curiosity, but at what cost? He's nearly got himself and his sister killed dozen of times, and might be on the brink of setting off another Doomsday. He has to be stopped before he hurts someone."

"I'm a little surprised he hasn't already. Actually, if we're counting supernatural creatures are people, he's already done it. A few times."

"Of course supernatural creatures are people," Bill said, voice lowering, "He's a selfish murderer, is what he is."

It felt strangely nice to hear that supernatural beings were considered people, even if it was only by another one of them and Tyrone was no longer one of said creatures. Tyrone's teeth ground together, remembering the melting of his fellows. "You don't need to tell me that." He already knew.

"Personally, I think we'd be better off if you really did take his place," Bill said offhandedly.

That gave Tyrone reason to pause, looking down at the empty tub. "if I take Dipper's place and get his life... What would happen to him?"

Bill shrugged from inside Tyrone's head. "Who cares? He's a horrid little boy willing to use people for his own gain and put his loved ones in harm's way. I'm sure you'd treat them better, and maybe he could go find a new life or be reincarnated or something. I'm just spit-balling here, kid, don't mind me."

If Tyrone took Pine Tree's place, Bill could kick Dipper out of his body forever, and then take it as his own. Pine Tree's spirit would be confined to the Dreamscape and unable to cause him any more trouble. Bill could complete his plans, the demon could win, his goals fulfilled...

"You say while talking to me in my head," Tyrone said, rolling his eyes. He reached for the handle before pausing, nervousness twisting in his gut, "You're sure I'll be okay with water?"

Bill nodded. "Sure as anything, bucko. I promise you won't melt. You're flesh and blood now."

Tyrone figured he'd trusted Bill this far, what could a little more do? So he twisted the knob, watching the water explode from the nozzle. "And if it's soda it's still the same?"

"You can't melt anymore, period," Bill promised.

Tyrone couldn't stop the relief from sagging his thin shoulders. "So, I'm really human then?"

Bill confirmed. "Of course, kid. I wouldn't make you go through that pain for nothing."

"It's weird to think of. Does that mean you are too, or is it just me?"

"Just you. I'm more like... Your imaginary friend. At this point, at least."

"Ah," Tyrone let the conversation drop temporarily as he jumped in and out of the shower, done in less than five minutes. Even if it wouldn't kill him, he still didn't like water.

"You should eat and get some sleep. We'll have a long day tomorrow trying to make money and get you decent clothes."

"Yeah, sound like a plan," Tyrone agreed, drying off. He prepared his food and ate quickly, cleaning up after himself and going to the relatively clean sheets of his motel bed. "See you tomorrow, Bill."

"Goodnight, Tyrone," Bill said, yawning himself.

While the clone-that-was-their-own-person-now drifted off to sleep in a motel worthy of Anthony Melchiorri's wails of anguish, his original creator was at the remains of the party. He'd been tasked with cleaning up the dance floor with a broom and dust bin while his sister worked to take down the streamers that hung from, well, everywhere really. While the night itself had been success over all, Dipper Pines was pensive. Three copies of him had escaped and were running around, two on a bike and one who was god-knows-where doing god-knows-what.

"What's wrong, bro-bro?" Mabel asked, balanced precariously on the back of a chair to reach a group of streamers far above her head, "You've been quiet for the past few hours." She let out a small sound of victory as she snatched them up, tugging them down with a satisfying rip.

Dipper watched his sister, pausing in his work. He half-expected her to go tumbling down the chair and onto the ground. When she didn't, he turned back to the sweeping of discarded red cups and strips of what he assumed was confetti. And glitter. Lots of that. "Oh, just thinking," he dismissed with a shrug, trying to play it off as nothing. He flailed with fake laughter at the end.

"Bro-bro," she said, turned to look at him with raised eyebrows, "That's not going to work. Now spill."

Dipper stopped again. It's had been worth a shot, he figured. "Okay, so, you remember the copying machine?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it was really creepy and your printed hand came alive."

"Yeeeeah, hands aren't the only thing that comes out of there alive. It might also put out, oh maybe, full people?"

Mabel stopped what she as doing, hopping down from the chair and rushing over to Dipper. "You didn't!" she hissed.

He bowed his head, letting the broom lean on his shoulder. "I had to! The plan was failing and I needed help getting Wendy!"

Mabel was taken back momentarily. "So you defied scientific and moral law and created life? To get a girl?"

Dipper cringed. "When you say it like that it sounds so amoral..."

That's because it was, Dipper, haven't you ever read science fiction? Cloning is hella amoral. "Well, bro-bro, it was kinda messed up," she scolded, "How many did you make?"

"Um," how many was it? "Nine?" Eight or nine, definitely. Wait, ten; Paperjam Dipper.

"Nine?" Mabel said, still sounding horrified. "Well, what happened to them?"

Dipper shrugged, seeing no problem in this part. "I melted them."

Mabel made a distressed sound, pushing Dipper's shoulder harshly. "You killed them!?"

"They were just ink, they didn't count as alive!" Dipper tried to defend, stumbling back a bit.

"Dipper, did they think and act of their own accord? Did they have separate thoughts and memories from you when they split from you?"

"They tried to kill me so... I'm pretty sure that, yeah, they did." He hadn't done anything wrong!

"Dipper, they were autonomous. That means they're alive." The fact they tried to kill him was concerning though... Mabel wasn't about to second guess her brother on that.

"Mabel, they weren't human. It doesn't matter."

"I can't BELIEVE you!" Mabel said, stomping away from him, "You're terrible! Did you at least get them all?"

"Hey, don't go out there!" Dipper called, "There's still three out there!"

Mabel turned to Dipper, look of horror intensifying. "There are still some left? You don't think they'd come back for you?"

"I'll just melt them when they do," he explained, waving his hand dismissively, "that doesn't mean they aren't dangerous."

Mabel shook her head, turning back to the decorations. "You're pretty messed up, bro-bro, just don't get hurt."

"I am not!" He objected. Mabel just hummed back in response.

~Fade to Black~

A/N: This just in, Dipper is apparently a racist murderer. Or he just doesn't think before he acts.

...but that doesn't make him less of a racist murderer.

I don't think that, if I was Tyrone, I'd be so willing to have a heart-to-heart with the boy that just killed my brothers and was just going to end up killing me. How can someone just be so cool with not existing anymore? I don't get it. Thus, the motivations of this Tyrone are that he really, really doesn't want to die. Dialogue in italics means it's going on in Tyrone's head or the Dreamscape. Bill can hear all of Tyrone's thoughts until he learns to hide them, if he ever does, but Tyrone can't hear Bill's.

This was co-written, once again, by my awesome RP buddy; LeStrange and Quinzel! Go check out their stuff if you haven't already. Please leave us a favorite, follow, or review if you liked it and want to see more! Reviews make me smile and give me motivation to update faster!

Gravity Falls is the property of Disney and Alex Hirsch. I'm just playing in their sandbox.