It took a little less than a year for enough stability to return to the daily goings-ons of people's lives for Dipper and Mabel to return to school in Piedmont.
Society had finally stopped reeling from the results of the Transcendence, and while there was plenty still to be discovered, normalcy had settled in quickly, albeit uneasily. Tolerance was not the same as acceptance, after all.
Dipper and Mabel had returned to their small house in Piedmont, California a few days more than two weeks after the Transcendence. The world was still in shock after it had first happened, and traffic had been absolutely brutal, to put it lightly.
Their parents, Mark and Anna Pines, were taking things surprisingly well. Sort of.
Dipper had had to explain the many scars that peppered his extremities from when the demon Bill Cipher had possessed him, not to mention those that remained from those many times he and Mabel had tumbled and fell and rolled and fought with any variety of the supernatural during their time with their uncle in Oregon.
Mabel has it easy, Dipper thought indignantly. Sure, he had always been antisocial and bookish, intrigued (perhaps a bit too much) by the promise of that which was morbid and strange, but his parents seemed to think it was a much bigger deal than it actually was.
That was to say, he'd taken a lot of abuse from his peers and seen many therapists in his time. The fresh scars did not help his situation much.
Needless to say, his parents did have to believe him.
Now the world was one in which centaurs trotted down the street and tipped their hats good day, and werewolves loped to monthly appointments for moon-sickness. Pixies filled the forest with a cacophony of voices and whispers of papery wings, and teacup manticores (de-clawed and venom sacs removed, of course) were auctioned off as rare pets for the wealthy.
Supernatural enlightenment and magic-ed courses had already been integrated into mandatory curriculums, for crying out loud. Some institutes even offered majors in sigils and spellcasting for those gifted with the ability, and others taught summoning and demonology.
So grudgingly, Mark and Anna nodded and accepted Dipper's words, Mabel hovering by his side with an encouraging grin.
As things were, much to the twins' chagrin, having saved the world and possibly the universe from a mad triangular dream demon did not excuse them from undergoing puberty and attending school with the rest of their Piedmont classmates.
In the short span of time since the Transcendence and return to daily life, Dipper had sprouted up several inches, and built upon a fair amount of lean, wiry muscle that had been developing slowly since the beginning of the summer. He and his long, skinny arms and legs- all knees and elbows- had all the grace of a newborn giraffe as he found himself bumping his head into things and tripping over his own feet- the newest object of Mabel's teasing.
Not to mention, that is, as Dipper's admittedly impressive growth spurts and squaring jawline started to define themselves, stripping away outer signs of childhood, Mabel was beginning to do the same, albeit in different ways. Spitefully, she proceeded to develop rather generous womanly curves and a bust that Dipper had no choice but to see right down from his height, no matter what he did. Mabel assured him that in a few years, he wouldn't be embarrassed at all, but would revel in the views he could get from future girlfriends.
This wasn't encouraging in the slightest.
"It's so weird," Dipper mused as he and his sister walked to school, crossing Piedmont Park's dying grass and moving skittishly across the busy intersection and down the sidewalk.
Mabel nodded, "Yeah, bro-bro. It's almost like nothing's changed, at least not for us. You could say everything changed for everybody else.!" She agreed, unfaltering smile only growing as she balanced on the curb and they approached the first street before Magnolia Avenue diverged into Hillside. "I wonder if anybody knows how we were mixed up in the Transcendence? Think we'll be famous?"
A harsh laugh escaped him, one unexpected enough for Mabel to blink at him quizzically until he shrugged and rolled his eyes playfully, enjoying pleasant silence with each other's company for the remainder of the walk.
To that end, Dipper and Mabel found themselves swarmed by their old acquaintances as they entered the school building.
"You were in Gravity Falls, Oregon for the summer, right?" asked one boy with frizzy orange hair, whom Dipper was able to identify as Charles B. Harris, a steadfast member of Piedmont High's dwindling chess club. "The Transcendence happened there, right?"
Dipper nodded and as Mabel sputtered off on exciting stories of what had transpired to the more theatrically inclined of the growing crowd, Charles pulled him aside and whispered a question, as though the words would burn his throat if he spoke too loudly.
"Is it true," he breathed, pudgy face a little too close to Dipper's to be comfortable, "that there was like, an actual demon there, right?"
Something overcame him and Dipper gave a knowing grin. "That's right!" A certain part of him swelled at the chance to discuss all of his theories and findings- his parents wouldn't tolerate it and Mabel just didn't have the attention span. However he found that small part of him withered quickly as he remembered why he'd left the chess club.
"Wow!" Charlie Harris looked like he'd burst as he trailed after Dipper to their homerooms. He blubbered like an idiot as they gathered their books, "I can't believe you even got out alive! The demonology courses haven't been goin' on for too long but man, it's scary stuff from what I hear."
An unbidden smirk tugged at Dipper's lips. "Oh really?" He didn't quite have the heart to break it to the kid that 'scary stuff' was the understatement of the millennium. He had been glad to see someone who shared his interest, but Lord, that kid didn't stop talking. He couldn't help but be relieved as class came along, sending him and Charles their separate ways as he made for language arts and Harris for precalculus.
Classes were incredibly dull. Dipper found himself longing for something unfortunate to happen- not because he wanted something bad to happen, per se, but because something squirmed in his innards for action. He longed for something compelling, intriguing, consuming. Something like the mystery of Gravity Falls that had swallowed his summer.
Something more interesting than the stale old news that was participial phrases, at least.
Luckily, Dipper found his silent prayers answered that afternoon when he was shunted along in the flow of students to his first ever demonology class. A spark lit up in his chest as he learned that it was the one class that day he would share with Mabel, and something told him things were about to get interesting.
Their demonology professor was a woman called Teresa R. Neri, a plump woman in her mid-thirties who seemed as though she'd be more suited to raising bunnies than researching demons, of all things. Her features were soft, betraying her friendliness, she dressed in mostly pastels and bright colored dresses and she insisted that all her students called her Miss Terry.
Of course, Mabel absolutely loved her.
"Alright class," she said, leading the mass of kids into the large room that appeared to be a repurposed auditorium. Various religious objects could be seen, some on the floor, on the desks, even adhered to the ceiling. The harsh scent of burning sage filled the room, making Dipper's eyes water and stomach churn. "This is where the magic happens- literally!" A few kids giggled along with her quip but most, Dipper included, remained unimpressed.
"Now, as exciting as it is," she began, tone suggesting an oncoming lecture, "we can't all start summoning demons right off the bat. Some people have more talent than others in that area, but no matter how skilled you are, if you don't know how the critters operate, there's no way you can control 'em when you need to."
She waved a student over, hoisting a bundle of textbooks in both arms. "Pass these out to everyone, won't you, Tony?"
The kid grunted his resignation to his fate, lugging a stack of thick books and dropping one on the desk in front of each student.
"Thanks kiddo!" Miss Terry said, beaming. "Now, I'd like you all to turn to page twenty-three. We'll have to start with the very basics- why would you want to summon a demon? Anyone know?"
A few hands poked tentatively upwards.
"You, Lula?" Said Miss Terry, waving to a girl whose head was full of braids.
"If you have like, a really big problem, that like, you can't fix any other way?"
Miss Terry nodded, continuing. "That's one reason, and people can summon demons for lots of reasons. Some people want power, some people want to heal sick people, and some people want other people to be gotten rid of. Here in this class, however, there will be absolutely no unsupervised summoning, period." Her gaze turned hard and she looked each student over. "Demons are unpredictable, and you can never have complete power over one, so it's very important to be cautious. In this class, I won't be teaching you to summon. No, you'll be learning what exactly demons are, and how to defend yourself if you find yourself meeting one."
As such, she began an admittedly intriguing lecture on identifying and nullifying demonic sigils that could be used to summon or boost a demon's power. She then went on to identifying the demons themselves, having the class flip through the book of demons known so far.
This part of the discussion remained intriguing and uneventful until it was discovered that there was a page for Bill. Dipper choked.
Miss Terry knew something was wrong almost before he'd even made a sound, eyes flitting across the room and resting on Dipper, who'd pulled his trucker cap down over his eyes, shuddering. "Are you alright, hon? Do you need to go get some water?"
There was silence for a while before Dipper let a grimace tug at his lips. A soft, nervous giggle vibrated in his throat, and he put a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing and crying and screaming, but that couldn't stop his shoulders from shaking. He could feel his voice wavering as he replied, fingers ghosting over the scars on his arm. "Yeah." He deadpanned, feeling numb and nervous and disgusted all at once. The nightmares had lasted for months after the opera incident. He still sometimes cringed at the sight of a good, sharp fork. What had happened at the site of Bill's defeat had been even worse. "I need to take my sister out for a moment to talk."
Mabel had seen the same page, and he knew that she knew how disturbed he was by that incident so long ago, and every one that took place after. Miss Terry nodded. "Of course, hon. Take as long as you need."
"I'm sorry, bro-bro," said Mabel once they stepped into the hall, voice uncharacteristically quiet. "I knew it shook you up, but not this bad. I'm sorry. If I'd known I would have done something."
A noncommittal growl was Dipper's only reply for a moment. "Yeah." He finally said, rubbing his arms and shivering.
There was a suffocating pause. "Do you want me to tell Miss T? Maybe she could… Y'know," she shrugged a little sheepishly before venturing, "avoid the subject?"
Dipper sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose between two fingers. As his lanky arm reached up, Mabel could see the countless white scars that peppered the pale skin. Some were still a little raised, and she felt a stabbing of guilt in her gut.
"I won't stop you." He finally answered. Sure, he was sick of hearing about that damn triangle, but a part of him, the part that was sensible and unfeeling, insisted that he couldn't keep running from his problems. Dipper would let Mabel make the decision for him.
She gave him a reassuring grin, the 'the-sun-is-singing-you-praises-and-so-am-I' kind of smile that only Mabel could produce. It warmed him a little, and some of his apprehension melted away at the sight. He let loose a weak smile in return as they re-entered the classroom, Mabel's hand gently massaging his lower back in small circles to comfort him.
The lecture continued, now having shifted to the topic of a lesser demon called Brian, who apparently took the form of a cluster of various organs in the shape of a duck, and granted wishes in exchange for small, seemingly unfair payments that tended to tip the deal in favor of his summoner.
Mabel looked shaken. He cocked his head slightly to one side, arching an eyebrow. "You alright?"
She shrugged, something like fear flickering in her eyes. What was she afraid of? "I just hate seeing you feeling so bad, y'know, Dipper? You're always there to look out for me, y'know? It scares me when you get spooked like this."
He nodded, blinking dumbly. "Mabel, I'll be totally fine," he sighed pleasantly, petting her on the head, much to her playful displeasure.
Time went on. The day went on. Demonology was followed by summoning, and then a generous hour's free period at the end of the day.
The week went on. Each day the classes were very much the same, on the same subject, in the same order. The sensible and orderly part of Dipper couldn't help but relish in the predictability of it all; he didn't have to worry about being possessed or deceived, he didn't have to look over his shoulder all day to make sure he wasn't being followed. It was good to be able to be relaxed each day, catching up with school time friends and rivals alike.
The nights, however, were an entirely different situation. He dreamt of Mabel.
Each time, he saw her. Hurt and needing him and just out of reach. He would run to her as quickly as he could without ever getting closer, and when he finally was able to reach out and touch her, a tugging sensation would yank at his guts.
Dipper's dreams were then plagued with blood and candles, dark rooms illuminated only by blue fire and gleaming slitted eyes. He dreamt of demons and monsters. He dreamt of blades sunk deep in his arms and legs, throwing up sprays of crimson life as they were ripped out, only to be driven back in with just as much force as before. He woke with a silent scream, drenched in icy sweat.
One morning after a particularly violent nightmare involving a dead child and suicidal men and women in hoods, Dipper stumbled to the bathroom to clean himself up. At this point he knew better than to try to go back to sleep. Three-thirty in the morning was his new schedule. He could handle that.
In the bathroom mirror, he found someone he didn't quite recognize staring back at him, and stiffened. Dipper had certainly been sleep-deprived before, but this was something different. His face was pale and haggard and framed by greasy chunks of his wavy chestnut hair, deep purple circles under his eyes making him look like a raccoon. His eyes peered warily back at him. Usually a clear brown, they were red-rimmed and watery, glazed over with a pale yellowish film that couldn't possibly be healthy. He rubbed his eyes, trying in vain to rub the fog away.
He had had enough. There would be no rest tonight- see the nightmares swallow him then, how about? Resigning himself to his sleepless fate, Dipper brushed his teeth and dressed himself before padding as quietly as he could downstairs into the kitchen to get breakfast. He was just about to drop a piece of bread into the toaster when Mabel came barreling into him at full pelt.
"Shit!" He cursed as they tumbled together across the peachy kitchen tile. "What was that for?"
Mabel grinned sheepishly at him, "Sorry. I just got some super great news, though!"
Dipper quirked an eyebrow, easing to his feet and pulling Mabel up with him. "Stan and Ford are like, getting along for once! Ford makes magic-y stuff, like those ward thingys you talked about? Magic nerd stuff, I guess. Tryina help people adjust, y'know? And Stan sells 'em and he says the Shack's never had such good business! Things're great over there!"
"Okay." Said Dipper, recovering his dropped bread. He blew it a little and shook it off a little more for good measure before dropping it into the toaster and turning it on. "And you know this how?"
"Wendy," Mabel explained simply, "she texts me a bunch, y'know. If you would actually use your phone you would know this too."
Dipper snorted at her as the toaster emitted a resonant 'ding' and spat up his toast. He buttered it and carried it on a plate to the kitchen table, munching as Mabel mirrored his actions with her own breakfast. Things seemed to be going well until Dipper happened to take one particular bite at his food, suddenly crying out loud enough for Mabel to drop her toast and scramble to the other side of the table to be next to him.
He pulled the bread away, and as he did so, long strings of something thick and red stretched between his mouth and a small white something embedded in the toast. Tentatively, Dipper felt around the inside of his mouth with his tongue only to find his left upper canine was no longer present. The revolting cocktail of saliva and blood dribbled down his chin as he stared in horror, plucking the tooth from his forgotten breakfast and examining it. That had been a permanent tooth- it had just fallen out for no reason in particular. No reason at all.
"Is that a baby tooth?" Mabel implored, seeming to read his thoughts. "You gonna put it under your pillow? I bet you'll get a dollar- or maybe even two!"
Chocolate eyes met hazel as Dipper stared up at Mabel in horror, slumping low in his seat and shaking his head. "That was an adult tooth, Mabes. I lost my last baby tooth when I was eleven."
"Oh."
The silence hung thick in the air for a moment before, Mabel being Mabel, tried to make light of the situation.
"It was one of the pointy ones you lost, right?"
"Canines," Dipper corrected, nodding.
Mabel seemed to mull over this for a moment before a wicked grin split her face. "Maybe you got bit by like, a vampire!"
"There will be no vampires in this house," Anna Pines declared playfully, sweeping into the kitchen like a cheerful whirlwind, scooping up Mabel and spinning her around, only to set her down, a little roughly, and complain quietly about not being as young as she used to be. "You better not've been bit, squirt! I don't want you sparkling in the sun like those idiots on television."
Dipper have a gap-toothed grin, chuckling in return before his smile fell. "This one fell out," he explained, holding up the gleaming off-white canine between his thumb and forefinger. "Not sure why."
"Is it a baby tooth?" Anna implored.
Dipper shook his head. "Don't think so."
"Oh."
"That's what I said!" Mabel added before running off to grab her backpack with a swift salute to Dipper.
"Yeah," he replied pushing his bloodied plate of toast aside. "I mean, I think so. Maybe I was wrong?"
Anna nodded slowly. "So," she ventured, "does it hurt or anything?"
"Nope."
"I see."
Dipper shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Did he always make that face? "I guess I'm gonna keep a close eye out for myself and see if anything else seems like it's wrong," he assured her, noting the glitter of maternal concern that shone in her worried emerald eyes. "In the meantime there's nothing I can do."
A hesitant nod was the only reply he got. Dipper shrugged a little, digging into the drawers of the kitchen and pulling out a plastic zip-tight sandwich bag. He deposited the tooth inside, shuddering a little before sealing the bag and stuffing it into his pocket.
"Alright then," said Anna, an edge of seriousness cutting into her voice. "If you feel off even a little at school I want you to go straight to the nurse, and don't hesitate to phone home if you need me to pick you up. I don't understand all this supernatural nonsense, but I don't want you getting hurt and I'd rather play it safe than sorry."
Dipper's light smirk widened into a full-blown leer. "Relax," he assured her, the softly heartening tone of his voice contrasting the uncharacteristically nasty grin that split his face. "I'll be fine. Mabes'n I have seen a lot weirder." The malicious expression lightened to something that was passable as a stiffly forced kind of smile, flashing by so quickly that Anna wondered if she'd seen that predatory expression at all.
"Okay," she acknowledged stiffly, wondering if Dipper had even realized what he'd done. He wandered off to retrieve his backpack, and with Mabel hot on his heels, the pair scampered down the hall. She heard the door shut behind them, leaving Anna alone in the kitchen with a plate of half eaten toast and blood on the table.