A/N: Got plot bunnied super hardcore by the recent episode, and had to put this down. I'm in a super boring summer job this year, so I think I can manage working on a new story. I've got a pretty intricate plot planned, with Dipifica appearing in later chapters. If there's interest in this story, I'll continue with it. Enjoy!
The Mystery Twins are 19 years old in this story, and are currently attending Lewis and Clark College in Portland, Oregon. Dipper runs a side business called Pines Investigations that specializes in paranormal stuff. That's all the backstory you're getting!
Disclaimer: Geez, you think I don't wish I owned Gravity Falls? Best show on TV since Avatar!
The brakes whined as the Jeep ground to a halt, gravel crunching underneath the tires. 19-year old Dipper Pines hopped out of the car, taking a moment to absorb the scene he had been presented with. If there was ever a house that looked like it was home to a specter or two, this was it. The slate gray stone and gothic arches climbed into the yellow evening sky like bats flushed from their caves. The dark windows and ominous purple curtains somehow felt more opaque than the walls themselves, housing secret eyes that stared at him while remaining unseen. It wasn't an overly large house, merely two stories, but it had so much presence that it felt almost like a mansion.
"Maybe it actually is a demon this time," Dipper muttered to himself.
"Are you Dipper Pines? From Pines Investigations?" a voice called. Dipper looked up, shaken from his reverie. He nodded at the stricken looking man approaching him. The man's shoulders bunched up around his neck, as though the ominous presence was literally crushing him under its weight.
"Oh, thank God!" the man gushed, "You have no idea what we've been through. I didn't know who else to turn to. All of my friends just laughed at me, or thought I was crazy!"
Dipper smiled and put up his hands, embarrassed. "It's really no problem, Mr. Pataki. I'll do my best to diagnose your problem." He looked back at the house. "I'd like to remind you that, most of the time, these paranormal incidents have perfectly rational explanations."
Mr. Pataki's face took on a grave expression. "Not this time," he insisted. He extended out a hand, and Dipper took it. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person," Mr. Pataki said. Dipper gave another bashful smile and nodded.
"Let's take a look in the house," Dipper said, shouldering his heavy backpack. Mr. Pataki flashed him a harrowed smile and turned, walking back towards the porch.
The heavy oaken door creaked noisily when Mr. Pataki opened it, like they always do in those goofy horror movies. Dipper was surprised to see that it was already dark in the house, as though the dusk had long since come and gone. He could see the amber evening light through the windows, but it was like none of it was getting through, draping the interior in a heavy, tactile darkness. He reached for a light switch on a nearby wall.
"Don't bother," Mr. Pataki chided, "We've had three different electricians out here. None of them have been able to get the lights to come on."
Dipper frowned. He hadn't seen anything like that since… well, since he had lived there.
"Is that the psychic boy, Daddy?" a little girl asked. Dipper perked up, looking out at the living room where the voice had come from. Mrs. Pataki stood in the middle of the room, stock still, shoulders pinned back and eyes as wide as saucers. Dipper began to feel goosebumps crawl up and down his neck.
"I'm not a psychic," he corrected, looking for the source of the voice, "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Mrs. Pataki. I didn't realize you both had a daughter."
It was then that Dipper noticed Mr. Pataki's hand on his shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh. He rounded on the man, angry at the pain, but was shocked to see him clutching at his chest as though having a heart attack. Watery brown eyes grabbed hold of Dipper's and Mr. Pataki whispered to him.
"We don't have any kids."
Dipper's eyes expanded to roughly three times their usual size, and he took a step back. A sudden crash startled him, and he whirled around to see the source of the noise. A picture frame had fallen off of the wall, the glass shattering as it had clattered against the floor. A pair of vacant eyes and dead smiles stared up at him from the undamaged picture nestled in the center of the frame.
"Don't lie to the stranger, Daddy!" the voice hissed, turning menacing, "You've been a bad Daddy. A very bad Daddy."
Dipper, finding his senses, unshouldered the backpack and dropped it to the ground. He ripped the main zipper open, hands fumbling inside the compartment.
"Who are you?" Mrs. Pataki screamed into the air, voice cracking with strain, "Why are you doing this?"
"It keeps insisting that it's our daughter," Mr. Pataki insisted, perhaps to Dipper, perhaps to himself, "We don't have any kids! I… Jesus, you have to help us!" His arms curled around his torso, and he slumped backwards against the wall. "I can't… I just can't do this anymore. I can't keep doing this."
"You'll do what I say, Daddy!" the voice called, somehow deeper in tone. A loud thump from overhead startled Dipper again, and he almost dropped what he was holding. Somehow, his butterfingers didn't fail him, and he pulled a jar of iodized salt from the backpack. He stood up, hand hooking into the handle on the top of the backpack and sprinting into the living room where Mrs. Pataki still stood.
"Get over here! On the carpet!" Dipper demanded. Mr. Pataki started, and ran to join his wife, his hands finding hers. Dipper frantically thumbed open the metal tab on the top of the container and upturned it, allowing a narrow stream of salt to dribble out onto the floor. Despite himself, his hands shook as he ran the salt around the pair in a circle, making sure that the two ends linked.
Dipper flashed the terrified pair a smile, trying to exude more confidence than he felt. "Definitely no ordinary rational explanation this time," he smirked, "This is bona fide paranormal activity. Don't worry; most things out there don't like salt and won't try to cross a salt circle."
They stared at him as if he were crazy. Dipper's smile faltered, slightly.
"What do you think you're doing Daddy?" the voice asked, grit finding its way into the words, "Are you trying to get rid of me? To cast me out? Do you want to hurt me again? Are you afraid of me, like I was afraid of you?"
Mr. Pataki's eyes widened, the hurt manifesting on his face. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but Dipper silenced him with an upraised hand.
"Don't talk to it! Don't acknowledge it!" he insisted, "These things feed off of your attention!"
"But I…" Mr. Pataki insisted, desperation painted on to his face. Mrs. Pataki silenced him, putting her hands on his chest and whispering sweetly. "It's going to be alright, honey, everything is going to be fine." Her voice was tremulous with terror.
"It's not a ghost," Dipper said, startling them both. "Ghosts don't act like this. They have unfinished business. Some task they have to perform, or some specific vengeance to get. They don't do long-term, random hauntings. This is…it's something else." Dipper turned away. "I just hope it's not a demon."
'First thing's first,' Dipper thought to himself, rummaging through the backpack. This time, he produced a small net, about four inches in diameter, with thin, tightly wound netting. He jerked the telescoping handle open, extending it to its full length, and then was back in the backpack, coming out with a water bottle filled with black, powdery ash. Something started pounding on the walls, hard enough to make the floor shake underneath his feet. Growing more and more panicked, Dipper all but tore the cap from the bottle, and shook the ashen dust into the net, the particles resting on the strands and staining them a dark gray.
'Calm down, Dipper, you've been through a lot worse than this. Don't let it get to you!' he reassured himself, steadying his hands and grabbing onto the thin metallic handle. He spun and faced the room, forcing himself to relax. He waited. Listened. Felt, rather than observed the room.
He heard it. Thumping, then fluttering. Thumping, then fluttering. Thumping, then…
Dipper sprang across the room, abandoning his footing as he dove forward. The net shot out, making a thin whooshing sound as he whipped it downward at an angle. To the Patakis, it looked as though Dipper had clumsily fallen forward, as though struck down by the demonic presence that had infested their home. Dipper, however, had a more specific goal in mind: he had been aiming for a specific square of empty space in the room, a specific two inch location, and swung accordingly.
His teeth clacked together as he hit the floor and he winced with pain. Then, he felt some small vibrations through the handle of the net, and despite himself, he smiled.
"Ha! I knew it!" he all but cheered, prying himself off of the floor. "Gotcha!" The webbing at the end of the net, too clouded with ash to be transparent, jerked and tossed angrily. A squeaky voice escaped from its confines, coughing and sputtering.
"R-release me, puny mortal!" the thin, reedy voice sputtered, "I will rip your soul from your body while you still breathe!"
Dipper caught himself, and searched back through his mind. "What do I say… what are the words again?" He rocked his head back and forth spastically, struggling to remember, then grinned as it came back to him. "Oh ye great magical one, I beseech ye to honor the parlance guaranteed humanfolk by the Siedhe Compact".
The figure, still hidden by the charcoal webbing of the net, suddenly stopped struggling. A tiny sigh escaped the top of the net. "Very well, mortal," the voice said, "Release me, and I shall honor your worthless request."
Dipper smirked cockily. Another one bites the dust! He reached into the bag, and very gingerly pulled a purple, humanoid creature with cyan wings and a very grumpy facial expression out of the net. Black splotches of soot stained the creature's otherwise gleaming frame, and it crossed its arms and stared moodily at Dipper. He lightly lifted the creature by the tips of its wings, smirking at its grouchiness.
He felt two more pairs of eyes on him, and suddenly remembered the two people holding each other in the center of the room. He turned and flashed them a reassuring smile. "See? It was fairies that have been torturing you two. Not demons! Good news! I'd bet there's probably fifteen to twenty of them in this house right now."
They gaped at him, looking as though he had just told them that Superman was real and was responsible for the JFK assassination. Suddenly self-conscious, he wiped the smirk from his face and carefully set the fairy on an end table. Dipper sat down on the couch next to the end table, and gestured to the Patakis, inviting them to sit as well. Still tightly gripping one another, they sat down on the love seat across from the odd pair.
"Don't worry, fairies can be…uh… vengeful," he began, "but they won't try anything while we're negotiating. They can't. They're bound by a… well, it's like a really old contract. This one couldn't attack you anyway. Soot keeps fairies from flying, at least for a short while." He turned back to the fairy. "Well, judging by your coloring, you're a forest sprite. I didn't think we had any this close to Portland."
The fairy, arms still crossed, was clearly unimpressed. "Wonderful, a humanfolk who thinks he knows a thing or two." She sighed, and rolled her tiny, pale blue eyes. "Why have you interrupted my noble quest for vengeance, sweaty humanfolk?"
Dipper's eyes narrowed, and he tried to hide how much umbrage he had taken at the statement. He wasn't that sweaty anymore! He had grown out of a significant portion of that! Remembering his duties, he flashed another reassuring grin at the stricken couple sitting on the couch. "As you can see, fairies tend to be…well, a little rude. That whole Disneyland thing, with the happy singing fairies doing cute magical things? Totally false." He looked back at the fairy, sticking her nose up at him, "The reality is not nearly so sweet. A good friend of mine accidentally killed a pink wind sylph once… you don't even want to know what they put us through." The fairy snorted and turned her head away from him.
"You and your clan have been mercilessly torturing this poor couple for the past week and a half," he started, "What could they possibly have done to warrant this much fairy wrath? Did they accidentally squash one of you?"
The fairy hissed at Dipper, suddenly enraged. She rounded on the Patakis. "That foul cur knows what he did!" she shrieked, "Driving his foul metal death machine and shredding a perfectly good circle of toadstools!" She pointed an accusing finger at Mr. Pataki, who looked taken aback. "I had a wonderful amanita in that circle, you pile of filth! I'll rip your guts out and strangle you with them! I'll…"
Dipper cut her off. "Ok, that's enough of that. I'll ask you politely to talk to me and not to my clients. That's a right that my clients are guaranteed by the Siedhe Compact."
"Wait… I… what did I do?" Mr. Pataki asked, looking at the fairy, "I… you mean those mushrooms out in the yard? That I mowed over?"
If looks could kill, the fairy would have been walking Mr. Pataki to the gallows. She turned her gaze to Dipper. "Ambassador, tell your ugly, stupid client," she began, filling her voice with mock sweetness, "That he destroyed a sacred circle used by my people, and that I am going to cut him open and…"
"Stop," Dipper commanded, "I have an offering, to resolve this." He pulled his backpack over to where he was sitting, and produced a small plastic bag filled with some small wooden plugs. The fairy suddenly froze, entranced by the bag. He smirked at the Patakis.
"I've got her now," he said cockily, "You know what these are, don't you? Mushroom plugs! For growing mushrooms. I can replace your lost circle with a larger one."
The fairy's small frame tremored excitedly as she struggled to maintain a poker face. It was so easy to forget how much malice these cute little things housed inside. "That… if you think some pedestrian button mushrooms will be enough to quell our wrath, you're wrong!"
Dipper's smile widened. "Button mushrooms? What kind of small-time paranormal investigator do you think I am?" He jiggled the bag tantalizingly. "This is the good stuff. Shiitake mushrooms." The fairy gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "That's right. Shiitake mushrooms. How jealous do you think those rain sprites would be if they knew the Forest clan had a brand new shiitake circle smack dab in the middle of their traditional territory?"
An impossibly enormous, wicked grin flashed across the fairy's face before she was able to regain her composure. Tiny, malicious little giggles escaped from various corners of the room. The little fairy forced a stoic expression back onto her face, trying to remain calm.
"Very well, puny humanfolk. Your conditions are acceptable. I…"
"Wait a minute!" Dipper interrupted, "I haven't told you what my conditions are yet!"
She stopped, and fixed him with a heart stopping glare. Her little hands bunched into fists out of frustration.
"Well…then," she said, evenly, "Is the humanfolk capable of revealing those conditions, or is it content to continue interrupting its betters?"
Chagrined, Dipper put up his hands defensively. "I'm sorry, I meant no offense." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "These shiitake plugs are yours, so long as you vow not to harass the Patakis anymore, and you agree to put them under the protection of the Forest clan."
She scowled, and turned away. "Fine!" she hissed.
Dipper fixed the Patakis with a big grin. "See? This is a great deal for you guys. The fairies will protect you from anything else that lives in these woods, and warn you if you ever face imminent danger for as long as you live. I know this doesn't make up for the psychologically horrifying things they've put you through, but it's something, isn't it?"
The Patakis stared at the pair, clearly unable to process everything that was going on. "That's…sure, that's fine," Mrs. Pataki squeaked, finally uncurling her fingers from her husband's shirt. "We just want this all to stop. We just want to build a new life in this house. Thank you… uh… Mrs. Fairy, ma'am."
The fairy flashed them with a large grin, suddenly bright and bubbly. "See? Here is a humanfolk that knows how to address my kind. With fear and trembling!" Her expression softened somewhat. "And we formally apologize, humanfolk, for any trouble that we have caused you. You…may not have deserved quite that much of our wrath."
The Patakis responded with weak, terrified smiles, clearly unsure of how to feel.
"See?" Dipper said reassuringly, "All fixed. Not only will the haunting stop, but the fairies will protect you guys going into the future. You have less to worry about than most other people!"
The Patakis didn't look particularly reassured. The fairy coughed, annoyed.
"Oh, right!" Dipper said, smacking his head. "My clients find your deal acceptable. Give the oath, and the shiitake plugs are yours."
The fairy stood, a solemn expression washing over her face. She tilted her head into the air and lifted her shoulders back. "On behalf of the Forest Sprites, I accept your generous gift, agree to end the war justly waged against the Pataki clan, and place them under our protection." She scowled at Dipper. "Now give me the plugs, puny humanfolk."
Dipper tossed the bag onto the table next to the fairy. Her eyes lit up and she scooped the bag up with surprising strength. Fluttering and cheering noises filled the room, but despite his best efforts, Dipper couldn't catch a glimpse of what was making the noises. He'd never understand how fairies did it, but you could only catch a glimpse of one if they wanted you to or if you caught one with ash and a net. He looked back to where the fairy he had been negotiating with had been sitting, but she and the shiitake plugs had vanished.
Dipper rose to his feet, and, to his relief, noticed that the Patakis were starting to calm down. He gave them another smile, tugging on the brim of his blue hat out of habit. "Well, that should do it. Realistically, you'll likely never see any of these fairies again unless you call them, or they want to warn you about something. They should be much more… polite…should you ever speak with them again."
Mr. Pataki looked as though tears were brewing behind his eyes. "I… I don't know what to make of everything I've seen here. I never… I never imagined…" He shook his head, regaining control of himself. "I… how can we ever repay you?"
"Oh, no thanks necessary!" Dipper insisted, running a hand through the hair on the back of his head, "Just… you know… the payment we discussed."
"Oh, right!" Mrs. Pataki said, jumping to her feet. Evidently, she was recovering much more quickly than Mr. Pataki was. She scooped a leather purse from the table in the kitchen, and produced three green bills. "Three hundred dollars, right?"
Dipper smiled, despite himself. "That will do. Thanks!"
It had been a good day, Dipper mused as he walked back to his car. Three hundred bucks richer (that would buy a lot of tacos), for once he was on top of his college work, and, best of all, he'd had a really interesting paranormal experience that didn't result in anyone getting hurt. Now, he'd just have to give Soos his Jeep back, and he was free to enjoy a few well-deserved snacks and a few hours of intense journal studying. He grabbed the handle, pulling the driver door open, and stopped.
Pain, violent and intense, ran up and down his spine. He felt the muscles in the back of his neck tighten and he stiffened, slumping forward against the Jeep as roaring noises exploded in his ears. His vision blurred and he tasted metal; it felt as though his head was too heavy for his neck to support. He was drowning in the pain, losing his identity in it, sinking deeper and deeper until all he was was a prayer in the darkness, begging the pain to stop, begging whatever was happening to just leave him alone, please leave him alone, please please please…
"It's gonna kill you slowly, Pine Tree! I want you to remember that, in your darkest, most private moments. It's gonna rip your soul from your body, and I'm going to take what's left for myself. That's my revenge, Pine Tree. I will own you one day, and you get to live in constant dread until that day comes."
Dipper's eyes flicked open, and he realized that his face was pressed into the Jeep's leather seat. He pried himself up, feeling a sticky wetness on his face. He brought a questioning hand to his nose, and winced as it came away bloody.
'It's getting worse,' he thought, biting back the panic rising in his throat, 'It's going to happen soon. There's no way around it. We have to be ready.'
"Alright, dude. You sure you're alright?" Soos asked, a concerned look taking over his face as he brought the car to a halt. "You seem more…angsty college boy than usual."
Dipper flashed a smile that he didn't feel. "Yeah, don't worry man, I'm just tired. Thanks again for letting me borrow the Jeep! You sure you won't let me pay you for the gas?"
Soos laughed and waived him off. "Forget it, dog! You're one of those poor college kids I'm always hearing about! You need money to go on dates and get into trouble and stuff!"
Dipper laughed in spite of himself. "Alright, though I don't know where you got the idea that I'm going on any dates. We still on for dinner Saturday night?"
"Dude, I'm always down for any chance to eat Melody's ribs! That woman grills better than all those fancy angry TV chefs. You and Mabel gotta come around!"
Dipper smiled and gave Soos a wave as he walked away. Soos gave the horn a friendly honk and disappeared from the cheap apartment parking lot, headed down the street. A pained expression worked its way onto Dipper's face. He didn't want to miss all this. He didn't want to believe what was coming. He had to find a way out.
His keys rattled as he forced them into the lock, twisting the handle and popping the door open. Mabel was sitting by the kitchen table, facing away from him. Dipper forced a smile to his face, determined not to worry her by revealing how severe his recent episode had been. "Hey, Mabel, how's…"
She whirled around, fixing him with a worried glare that shocked him with how out of character it was. He saw her clutching an envelope in her hands, gripping the corners so hard that her knuckles were turning white. The paper was odd: thick and brown, as though the envelope had been made from old parchment. Then, Dipper saw the address heading and his blood ran cold.
In neat, beautifully calligraphy, the heading read: To: Pine Tree and Shooting Star. Dipper recognized the return address. It was the old Mystery Shack, which hadn't been occupied in nearly five years.
Mabel looked at him. "It's time, isn't it?" she asked. "We're… we're going to have to go back there."
Dipper swallowed.
A/N: Well, that's it so far! I don't know why, but I find the idea of cute and evil fairies to be absolutely hilarious. I'm going to try to keep some of the goofiness of the show, but it's going to be mixed with some pretty serious and heavy story-line at parts. I think I've got a pretty good plot worked up, rife with my own views on what's going to happen now that we've met the other Stan, and with nice doses of action and romance thrown in. A lot of prior story will be told through flashback sequences. Let me know in a review if you're interested, and I'll keep going!
Keep reading!
RockaRoller88
Preview: What is wrong with Dipper? And what are the contents of this mysterious letter? Why haven't the Twins been to Gravity Falls in so long? Keep reading to find out!