He hurt all over.
Dipper couldn't think, couldn't remember. All he knew was that he ached. His head pounded like a drum, the pain pulsing in time with the steady throb. A wash of pain, an ebb, a wash, an ebb.
He vaguely became more aware of his surroundings. People yelling, others screaming, someone sobbing and mumbling something.
Mabel?
He ached. Inside, deep inside. His fuzzy mind tried to figure out what was going on. He had to check on his sister, help her, but he had to get up first. Head pounded. Heart and lungs throbbed, making his breath rasp and stutter. Bones ached, each and every one, especially his ribs and spine.
Would he be able to move? Mabel was crying. He had to try.
Clenching his jaw, he focused. He was sprawled on the ground, dirt and grass and leaves under his face and arms. He had to get his arms under him, his legs braced below him, to even get up to his knees. The washes of ache made the very idea of so much movement seem laughable.
Mabel was crying. He had to protect his sister. His twin. His best friend.
Deep breath, and he wrenched himself onto his hands and knees.
God, that hurt.
The sounds abruptly all stopped.
Dipper forced his eyes, which had been squeezed shut, to open.
"WELL, WELL, WELL! LOOK WHO'S NOT DEAD!" shouted an incredibly obnoxious, nasal, and terrifyingly familiar voice.
Bill Cipher.
The day's events rushed into his head, even as his eyes whipped in the direction of the voice to glare at the evil triangle.
The disappearance of Bill's stone statue, the rumors of a cult trying to restore him, Mabel at his side as they ran around Gravity Falls and the surrounding forest to get to the bottom of what was going on. They were the Mystery Twins, after all.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. They'd never even told Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford what they were up to, and Soos and Wendy probably figured they were still running around, catching up with all their friends from last summer.
Sheesh, they'd only gotten back yesterday. Well, unless he'd been out more than a few hours.
Though he couldn't remember how that part happened. His memories ended with Mabel and him spying on that weird group of campers they suspected to be Bill's cultists. Either he had a memory blank or he'd been struck unconscious completely unawares.
Anything was possible, and the continual wash of pain in and out was no help for thinking clearly.
Mabel was suddenly at his side, covering his right hand with her left.
Just as well, since he couldn't really move any more, and Bill had floated forwards to hover right in his face, which would've freaked him out if he'd had the energy.
"GOTTA HAND IT TO YOU, PINE TREE, NEVER THOUGHT YOU'D BE THE CONSTELLATION! THAT DUMB HAT DISTRACTED ME, I GUESS!"
Constellation? Hat? He vaguely realized his cap was missing. Mabel was helping him into a sitting position, ignoring Bill even as the monster stuck out his cane and tapped it against the center of Dipper's forehead.
His birthmark?
Bill started laughing. It was just as creepy as it always had been - at least he wasn't angry right now, though perhaps that should be even more alarming.
"YOU REALLY HAVE NO IDEA! DO YA, PINE TREE? OR MAYBE I SHOULD START CALLING YOU ANGEL?"
What was he...?
"Don't freak," whispered Mabel, squeezing his hands before turning to Bill.
"Let us go, Bill. You said you'd let us go if he survived!"
"OH, PLEASE! AS IF I CARE ABOUT THIS TERRIBLE DIMENSION ANYMORE! I WAS JUST STICKING AROUND TO LAUGH AT YOU! I CAN WATCH YOU FROM MY DIMENSION MUCH MORE COMFORTABLY!"
And he winked out of existence. Or, rather, off this dimension.
Mabel let out a shaky breath as she aimed her grapple gun at the group of creepy people in their hooded cloaks. "You heard him! My brother and I are leaving and you guys are going to let us!"
Not one moved as Mabel shifted Dipper, pulling his right arm over her shoulders and hefting them both upright.
Dipper bit back a groan, but enough of a gasp slipped from his mouth that Mabel shot him a terrified look.
"Don't freak," she repeated. Strange comfort, when shouldn't she be telling him how he'll be fine and everything will be okay? What was wrong with him anyway?
"Let's just get back to the Shack, Dipper. Stay with me."
Dipper weakly nodded and concentrated on staying conscious while his sister supported him back home.
The walk, if you can call it that, back to the Shack was weird. It was quiet, the only sounds Mabel's harsh breathing and the brush snapping beneath their feet. All the normal sounds of the forest were... Just gone. No birds, toads, bugs, bunnies... Nothing. Or maybe there was just too much pain to focus on anything?
Dizzy, Dipper let his head drop down and stared at his feet. His sister was taking pretty much all of his weight, but even then there was something funny about the clumsy way his feet fumbled forward in turns.
Dipper's analytical mind wrestled with the problem. He was too clumsy and weak to pay attention to where his feet landed, but he felt the unevenness of the forest floor beneath each step. Something was strange about his weight or balance or, or something.
Mabel was carrying him surprisingly easily. Even accounting for adrenalin. Her panting wasn't from his weight, then, but from fear. Stress. Yes, her eyes were dilated when they glanced at him in panic every few seconds.
As if waiting for something. Waiting for him. Waiting for him to... notice something?
'Don't freak,' she'd said, calm and steady, though her eyes had been, still were, wide in panic.
Something was wrong with him.
And he really would rather figure it out for himself, going by his sister's fear. He couldn't comfort her if he didn't know the problem.
Legs, check. Arms, check. Body in one piece, head still attached.
Dipper closed his eyes, trusting his twin to lead the way as he narrowed his focus.
Same as before. An ache deep in his bones, but he was able to move with support, and he wasn't screaming, so probably nothing broken. Something else?
His heart and lungs still made every breath painful, though it was getting a little better now. Perhaps the walking was helping his circulation or something? It felt less like he was dying. Still felt like passing out, but he couldn't let himself as long as Mabel needed him.
Something else. It was unlikely Mabel would be so upset about whatever was going on inside his body. How would she even know? Even if they'd told her whatever they did, shouldn't it be more worry than fear?
Something physical then, plainly obvious. Visible.
There was a weight on his back. That wasn't just the pain in his spine. Something heavy, pushing him forward and weighing him down and throwing off his balance.
Angel. Bill's nicknames always made sense with a little thinking.
Dipper took a deep, shuddering breath, suddenly sure what the issue was. As if in confirmation, this next time Mabel turned to look at him, her eyes glanced over his shoulder.
He had wings. He was sure of it.
Mabel must have recognized the look on his face, because suddenly hers screwed up.
"I'm so sorry, Dipper," she choked out.
"Grunkle... Ford..." Dipper started weakly, before coughing.
Wings, he thought. Hollow bones, enlarged heart, stronger lungs. All things a human would need to fly. What could possibly be the point of turning him into a bird?
"Yeah," agreed Mabel, nodding, hope fighting with fear on her face. "Grunkle Ford will figure something out. We just have to get back to the Shack."
"Check... journals..." Dipper slowly enunciated, his voice weak and strained, but his expression more aware than Mabel had seen since he woke.
Mabel finally laughed, though it was a little weak. "Yes, you nerd. You can look through the journals, too. Figure out what Bill was talking about."
"Angels," Dipper whispered, just loud enough for Mabel to hear.
She nodded, then added, softly as if in secret, "Constellation."
Dipper nodded.
They continued their awkward shuffle through the forest.
"Can I ask..." Mabel began timidly. Her brother weakly met her eyes, his own accepting. "Can you feel them?"
Dipper frowned. "Just... weight. What... look like?"
Mabel frowned and glanced over his shoulder again. "Small, brown. Kinda wet and gross?"
Dipper tried to laugh, but it hurt so he just smiled through the pain.
She took another deep, shuddering breath. "I saw them sprout from your back," she whispered secretly, a confession between twins. "You screamed, and they just kept growing. Big branchy bone-like things. Then you stopped. And they stopped. And... And I thought you were dead." Tears started flowing from her expressive eyes again.
"Don't freak," whispered Dipper, throwing her words back at her. He gently nudged his head against hers. Then he added the more cliche, "We'll be... okay."
It had been evening, he'd guess, when he'd woken. The dark had come on quickly, or at least it felt that way, and now the way was lit only by moonlight. Thus it was quite obvious when a spot of light up ahead began sweeping around.
A flashlight.
"Dipper! Mabel!" came Grunkle Stan's loud voice, still at a distance of maybe half a mile.
"Oh, thank God!" gasped Mabel, slumping to her knees and slowly lowering her injured brother down, on his side out of fear of bumping those ugly branches reaching out from her brother's back.
"Grunkle Stan!" she screamed. "Over here! Help!"
Dipper let himself fall unconscious to the familiar voices of his grunkles and friends and sister. They were upset and scared and panicking, but they were there. They would take care of him. They would watch over Mabel. He could rest.