Dipper didn't register the word 'kill' until a good few seconds later. To be fair, he was fully concentrated on trying to escape Bill's grasp.
The red light shone down on the twins, and they turned as one to see Dipper's symbol standing out against the white of Bill's eye.
"Meenie…" He was saying, raising one hand in preparation to snap. Dipper felt his sister grab his arm, squeezing it until her knuckles were white.
The symbol switched to Mabel's. "Miney…"
Dipper gripped his sister's arms and stared at her, mouth open but no words coming out. She turned to him as well, wearing an expression of pure terror no doubt reflected on his own face. Because they both knew which symbol this rhyme would end on.
Somebody had to interrupt this! He didn't want to die, he didn't want to die, he didn't-
"YOU!"
And amid the screaming of his sister and the desperate cry of, "Wait!" and the pinetree casting a damning shadow in the red light… there was a snap.
A snap.
And Dipper's world faded to black.
Dipper didn't know how long he spent in the darkness. He didn't see, he didn't think… he just existed, a tiny flame burning in the endless abyss of nothingness.
But slowly, steadily, it was coming back to him. Bits and pieces of his mind: memories, thoughts, and feelings. The sensation of a chilling cold at the core of his being, and he shivered.
Then Dipper opened his eyes.
"Where… where am I?" Dipper looked around with a frown, rubbing his head. "I'm in the forest? How did I get here?"
He thought back to the memory of Weirdmaggeddon, the struggle with Bill, the snap. "Oh jeez, how long was I out? Mabel, I'm coming!"
Orienting himself, Dipper turned and ran in the direction of the Mystery Shack, his mind racing. Everything looked normal, so they beat Bill, right? What happened? Was everybody okay? Was the 'kill' thing just some horrible prank?
He turned the corner straight into a stone statue of Bill, hand outstretched and mossy. Startled, he couldn't stop in time and ran straight into-
Straight through it. Dipper let out a yelp and stared at his stomach for a second. This was bad, really bad, but he was nearly at the Shack! He had to keep running.
"Mabel!"
The Shack was in sight, surrounded by construction workers and scaffolds. Dipper dodged past them – he was noticeably lighter on his feet than usual – and made his way up to the door.
He extended one hand, hesitated, and tried to knock. His hand went through without a sound, and he shivered.
"Agh, Bill, what did you do to me?" Dipper phased through, then darted to the stairs. "Mabel! Don't worry, I'm still here – kind of. That doesn't sound too reassuring, but I'm here!"
Attic floor. The bedroom door was closed, so he phased through it. There he saw Mabel, sitting on her bed facing the wall, looking through what was probably her scrapbook. His own bed looked exactly the same as it had when he last slept in it: messy and covered with books.
Was that dust gathering on the sheets? Actually, no, he didn't want to think about that.
He had to think about his twin.
"Mabel?" Dipper tentatively walked over to her, noticing that she was actually reading his journal rather than her scrapbook. That was weird; not did Bill burn them right in front of his eyes, she never really had that much interest in – oh my gosh, Mabel was crying. Slow, steady tears falling from tired reddened eyes. She looked terrible.
"Hey, Mabel, it's okay!" He reached a hand out. "I'm right here sis, can't you hear me?"
His hand phased through, much to his horror.
"Can't you see me?" Dipper stuck his hand right in her field of vision and waved, but she didn't respond in the slightest. "Mabel?"
There was a knock on the door, startling both of them. Dipper watched his twin shove the journal under her pillow and whirl around to face Grunkle Stan. The lines on his pale face and the defeated sink of his shoulders made him look far older than he ever had before.
"Hey, uh, pumpkin." Stan tried for a smile. "How's it going up here?"
Mabel sighed deeply. "I miss Dipper."
"I'm right here," Dipper mumbled, walking over to his own corner and sitting on the dusty bed.
"I know. I'm so sorry, kid."
"It's not your fault, Grunkle Stan. You saved the world with that whole clothes switching-dealie!"
"Thanks. Still, if I'd just been a little faster…" Stan looked away, and his hands tightened on the doorknob until it looked ready to break. After a long moment, he took a deep breath. "Nevermind. You get an early night, okay? The funeral's tomorrow… if you want to go."
"Yeah, I'm going. Don't worry about me, Grunkle Stan, I'll be ready."
"Sounds, uh, sounds good, sweetie. I'll be downstairs; those construction guys need your Grunkle Stan to keep'em in line! Heh heh… yeah."
He closed the door softly, leaving Mabel to retrieve the journal. Dipper watched her flip through the pages, watched the tears trickle down her face at an absolute loss of what to do.
"I'm sorry, Mabel." He said, but there was no indication she'd heard him. "I'll find a way to make you see me again, but for now just… hang in there, okay? I promise."
