Chapter Three


"I am NOT doing that again," Dipper repeated the mantra as the Mystery Shack loomed before them just past the slowly approaching tree line. "Not ever again." He looked down at his hand that a couple of hours ago had a chunk missing from it. The flesh had simply returned, growing and connecting together like someone had pressed the fast-forward button on healing. And no scarring lingered, there or on his shoulder. Even his clothes had knitted back together where sharp fangs had desperately torn through to the treat of muscle beneath, not a stain to be found. It was like it never happened, on the outside.

"I don't care if you offer to leave my head and never come back! I am not, and I repeat, will not, ever, be doing that again!" Speaking of, the demon was still rattling around in his noggin and Dipper couldn't help but feel cheated. The young man had hoped, imagined even, that upon the death of the opportunistically chosen animal, Bill would burst through his skull like a ghost through a wall, leaving him the sole occupant of his mind. He quickly found that wasn't the case and Dipper chastised himself for considering the demon had been telling the truth in the first place. Though honestly what had he expected? He should've known better than to trust Bill fucking Cipher, so he didn't press the matter.

"I heard you the first hundred times, kid." Bill sighed, but not in annoyance. He was content, almost sated, like they were returning from a relaxing spa and retreat. As he opened the door, Dipper's stomach let out a gurgling plea. He'd been awake for almost a quarter of a day and he hadn't eaten anything.

"Since you've been a good boy," Bill started as if on cue. "I think you've earned some free time!" Dipper scowled and made his way into the kitchen, hoping to scrounge up a quick something to scarf. He began putting together a simple PB and J.

"You sure you can manage?" Dipper's sarcastic reply made Bill chuckle. "Doesn't seem like you can leave me alone." While he was making light of it the brunette's hopes were soaring at the prospect.

"Oh, I have an errand or two." Bill hummed thoughtfully. "But before I leave my dog unattended," Dipper was just putting together the two slathered bread slices when he felt the world sway beneath him. The young man kept himself from falling by dropping his lopsided sandwich and grabbing the counter's edge. "I need to make sure you don't bark at the neighbors." Bill finished. And then just like that, Dipper was left in silence.

"Bill?" He called out mentally. No response. There was only the low ringing of his ears as the swaying world once again stilled. His was head deserted except that of his own thoughts and compulsion. It was too good to be true, so he waited, calling out once more in his mind. It seemed to echo as if he were in an empty hall with tall ceilings. The sound bouncing off the interior and reverberating through the air unhindered.

The demon was gone.

His lips curled, cheeks tensed and compacted as the humungous grin conquered his face. Small bursts of disbelieving breaths turned into full-throated laughter shaking his body and coming in intense waves that hurt his stomach from exertion. Dipper only managed to sober himself when he remembered that this freedom was only temporary.

He practically shoved the sandwich down his throat, jugging a can of Pitt cola to wash it down as he stormed through the doors. He had to get to his Grunkle Ford. He had to tell him Bill was once again there to terrorize this dimension, to destroy the world! He threw open the screen of the gift shop and rushed forward.

BAM!

Dipper stumbled backward having collided into the thin frame of a young woman. She careened back on wedge heels and was flailing an arm attempting to regain her balance. And failing at it. His hand shot forward, gripping her swinging wrist and pulled to help steady her while stuttering out a quick apology.

"Sorry! I wasn't paying attention! I was ju-" Dipper had started to explain when he realized exactly who it was before him. His eyes scanned over her, toe to head.

White wicker wedge heels lifted the young woman an extra two inches. Hugging her waist was a sharp royal purple pencil skirt stopping just before her knees, short slits in the fabric on either side. A white button-up blouse was tucked underneath the edge of her lower garment. The sleeves were rolled up and a few buttons undone at the collar. A mix of thin golden chains and pearls hung from her neck dangling just over her shirt, and her bleach blonde hair was pulled back into a complicated artful updo.

"Watch where you're going!" The command passed through pink lips that began to form an oh when her blue eyes met his brown. "Dipper Pines!" She exclaimed suddenly. She pulled back her arm and brushed the imaginary dust from her front.

"Pacifica Northwest." Dipper playfully mocked through a small smile. He hadn't seen her since the last time he went into town. That being a month ago and had ended on bitter terms.

Back when Dipper had first arrived they had bumped into each other, much like what had just occurred, as she was leaving one of the stores. She had been struggling to carry her shopping bags through the small opening of the shop's glass door as Dipper was walking past. She tripped on the frame and brought them both to meet the sidewalk. After awkward apologies and an offer to help with her bags in exchange for lunch, they had spent the rest of that day catching up.

Pacifica's family had briefly struggled after selling their mansion on the hill. Stocks in the Northwest company had started to plummet and Pacifica's father had been forced to sell. Whatever luxuries they had left were pawned away and they suffered for a small time as simple upper-middle-class citizens.

The young blonde had been so relieved when her father's business savviness had given them an unexpected turn around in the economic food chain. Once again they were part of that one percent, and Pacifica, having blasted through her bachelor degree in business with a minor in fashion, was being groomed to take over the new company one day. Much to the disappointment of her mother, who simply wanted her daughter to marry rich like she did so they could spend endless shallow time together.

The two young adults would meet periodically over the course of the last year. Pacifica griping about the pressures of her father's expectations and Dipper about his failures under his Grunkle's tutorage. Though, Pacifica was still a very self-centered individual, that last time they encountered each other, she had given Dipper some unwelcome advice.

"Just go back to school!" She had insisted as she swung her minigolf club. "All you're doing now is sulking! You aren't going anywhere and if you don't make a choice then you never will!" Her opinion was followed by the soft clunk of her ball falling into the cup. Her words were as spot on as her aim, but Dipper didn't want to accept it. He grabbed his ball and club and returned them to the rental booth without another word to her. He hadn't spoken to her since.

"How are you?" Her blue eyes glanced to the side and she draped her arm just under her chest, fingers wrapping around her bicep. Her voice was timid, gently probing for fear he was offended by her intruding at his safe haven of the Mystery Shack.

"Are you checking up on me?" Dipper questioned, his eyes observed a faint flush appear beneath her makeup. He raised an eyebrow.

"No!" She denied and began to stutter. "I was just-I mean I was" She trailed off with a sigh. "Maybe." She grumbled, glaring at the brunette with an icy stare that melted away as quickly as it appeared. A small warmth sparked in his chest at the gesture. It was nice that she was thinking about him, but he had other things on his mind right now.

"Well, I'm fine, thanks. I gotta talk to Ford," His eyes glanced around the shop for any onlookers. It was quiet except for Grunkle Stan's mumbling from the next room. Probably putting together some new attraction.

"Look, Dipper. I just wanted to-" Dipper put a hand on her shoulder and slid past her toward the vending machine, typing in the code. "Hey! I'm trying to apologize!" She huffed but the door had already closed behind him.

The steps creaked beneath Dipper as he descended into the cool darkness. His hand slid against the cement wall as a guide. The doorway below him was pulsing with a glowing light and he saw the shadow of his great-uncle pass it, crossing the room within. A knot of nerves twisted in his gut as he remembered earlier that morning. He tried to recall his Grunkle Ford's face without Bill's influence, but if anything it only caused it to morph even further. His look of pity added remorse fueling thoughts. Ford speaking in his mind, saying that Dipper should have never returned to Gravity Falls. That he was useless and burdensome.

Dipper's feet stilled, the faint sounds of beakers clinking, a few tools clanging faded as his thoughts consumed him. What would his great-uncle think of him, having made such a deal with the enemy? He imagined being scolded for not calling the demon's possible bluff. Berated for not allowing his Grunkle Stan to fade away, his mind crushed from the pressure of the two energies merged in the Mindscape. Sure, Ford loved his brother, but allowing the world to be threatened once more by a being they barely defeated the first time was too much of a risk for the geezer to take. There was no doubt in Dipper's mind he would have let his Grunkle Stan die.

A growl curdled in his throat and he pushed himself forward. His own feelings aside, saving the world, again, was far more important. He stepped through the doorway, his eyes rested on his great-uncle's back, hunched over a table top. The elder was clearly lost in concentration and oblivious to his guest. Dipper opened his mouth to try and speak, but nothing came out. Perplexed his lips came together in a stiff line. His brow furrowed and he again opened his mouth to speak but his voice failed him.

"Grunkle Ford?" Dipper managed after a few more attempts and startled himself at his successful test.

"Just a moment Dipper." His great-uncle responded without turning. "I'm in the midst of something very delicate." His voice came in strained breaths. Dipper wanted to scream in response. Grunkle Ford, I made a deal with Bill to save Grunkle Stan's mind and he's controlling me!

"Grunkle Ford-" This was all that made it past his lips. His voice box acted as if it were stunted, refusing to say anything more than the man's name. Dipper quaked in frustration, his hands balled in fury at his inability to force out the words.

"I said in a moment." His Grunkle's voice was softer, surprisingly lacking in irritation with how loud Dipper had just been. The elder man took a small dropper and stuck it into one of the beakers. He turned to another vial in the arrangement before him.

Dipper's mind was racing. How could he say what he needed to without actually saying it? His mind fogged when he attempted to process the concept, even the subject of Bill Cipher. Dollar bill.

"Dollar" It came out in a whisper. Okay, there was some progress. Deal. Barter. Handshake. His thoughts pushed and his inner voice became more frantic and intense

"Handshake." Saved Grunkle Stan.

"Saved!" Dipper shouted irritably and stomped his foot.

The room shook as a forceful plume pushed his Grunkle Ford a few steps backward, coughing and waving his hand in front of his face, trying to stave off the smoke.

"Dipper!" The elder roared and turned his furious eyes upon him. His tall form loomed ominously as he rushed toward his great-nephew, his steps stretching with each word. "When I say in a moment I mean in. a. moment!" He enunciated, snarling uncharacteristically. His Grunkle's face that had been shadowed by the dim lights and screens became more clear in close proximity. His eyes were blackened by dilated pupils that would have normally scared the brunette but Dipper could only feel a rage in him as his eyes met the elder's seething contempt.

"I'm trying to-" His words stunted again. "I-" He couldn't get it out. It was like trying to climb a flat slippery surface at a verticle angle. He couldn't get a grip!

"You have no idea what you-" Ford huffed but the elder struggled with words just as Dipper seemed to. Two six-fingered hands raised near his chest, making to grab him but not committing to the action. They instead closed into fists and pushed towards the floor at his great-uncle's sides. "Get out!" The growling command came hoarsely from deep in the elder's throat.

Dipper acknowledged that there was nothing more he could do and his great-uncle was clearly lost in himself. And he couldn't even get the words out if he wanted to. Dipper turned away from Ford tearing up the steps. He retreated past the hidden door, slamming it shut behind him. He strode past gawking tourists that were swarming the shop and his dear Grunkle Stan, who was blinking at him with a stunned expression. His eyes watched the young man fly out the door.

Dipper's rage was a bubbling acid in his gut and a pressing tension in his head. His renewed scowl creased tight lines in his face as he jumped past the porch steps. His muscles jolted in quick spasms even as his hands pulsed and flexed in a desperate need to destroy and break. Never had he felt such an intense unbridled fury surge in his blood. His heart thumping in rapid succession as if it were egging him on.

His legs stretched at a run as he rounded the building passing a familiar single stump with an ax in the surface. Without pause, his hand swooped the tool into his grasp. He approached a large grey tarp and threw the covering back to reveal a wood pile. Throwing log after log within grabbing range of the stump his pores swelled droplets of perspiration from his brow.

He approached the stump and shoved the first log against the pale rings of the surface. He brandished the ax high above his head and he brought it down through its center. The chunk split apart, the strength of the plummet sent the halves flying to either side. Dipper huffed, the swirling storm within him calling for more. He readied another log. And another. Each plunge of the dull blade against the splintering pieces didn't relieve Dipper's temper but instead ignited a deeper desire to ravage.

As he raised the ax again, a hand on his shoulder caused him to turn and the sight of his Grunkle Stan, looking him over with heightened concern barely stopped him from that downward motion. Suddenly his grip on the weapon loosened, and the tool cluttered to the grass behind him. The fume of Dipper's temper began to clear his head like a veil of madness had been lifted. He questioned why he had been so worked up in the first place.

"Dipper, what's goin' on with you?" Stan asked in a worried tone. The young man licked his lips, his mouth opening and shutting but no words fell out.

"It's-" There it was, that fucking word wall, blocking his vocal and mental path. "It's frustrating!" His voice was an intense growl. as he kicked the uncut log from the stump and sat. Even with that demonic triangle out of his head, he couldn't speak as he wanted! He was still being controlled even in Bill's absence and it was driving Dipper up the wall! He buried his head in his hands, pushing them up his face and pressing his palms into his eyes.

"Oh, I know what this is," His Grunkle Stan said knowingly. Dipper perked up, eyes wide and his hopes revived. Had he remembered something? Did Bill slip up? "This is about that girl, isn't it?" And just like that, his dream was murdered. And girl, what girl? Pacifica? He groaned.

"No! Grunkle Stan-" Dipper tried to deny but his good old great-uncle cut him off.

"I know, it's hard to talk about your feelings." Dipper shamelessly tuned him out, though his uncle was too immersed in his own advising to realize.

His Grunkle thought he was having woman troubles. Pacifica troubles to be precise. He pondered the idea for a moment. He had never considered her as more than a friend before. Sure he had his fantasies when he was younger, but her obnoxious personality had always been a drawback. Pretty on the outside but bland on the inside. Though it had been nice that she came out to apologize to him, even if it took her a month to do it. Could he even have a relationship after selling himself to a demon? Dipper shook the thought from his head. His lack of love life was not the biggest problem he had right now. There had to be another way to get a message of help out.

"-written my share of letters-"

"Huh?" Dipper asked, suddenly intrigued with Stan's speech. "What was that?" His Grunkle rubbed the back of his neck, another hand on his hip as he stared into the distant treetops.

"I said, if you have trouble saying the words, you should try a letter." Dipper blanched at the idea. A letter! Of course! Though there were probably unknown restrictions in what exactly he could do, he had a better chance of finding a way around it on paper. He had to start quickly, too much time had already been wasted.

"That's a great idea! Thanks, Grunkle Stan!" And with that Dipper was off to the attic, barely hearing his uncle's "Sure. Anytime."

He flung his previous research off the surface of his desk and pulled out an old tattered notebook. His eyes frantically scanned the wood top for a pen, pencil, anything to write with. His fingers scrambled through boxes of old chewed caps and corpses of plastic encasing burst wells of ink, before he tore through his book bag, freeing a glorious clicking writing utensil. He flipped the journal open to the easiest available page, not caring where he started his work. A quick scribble of circles in the corner got the ink of the pen flowing. Dipper was grinning maniacally as he brought the pen down and-

Nothing.

Dipper's hand would not move, it wouldn't even bring the ballpoint to touch the page. He pushed his fingers, willing them to bring it down upon the paper, to scratch out the smallest of scribbles. It remained stationary, floating just the tiniest millimeter away from grazing the light blue lined surface. He put his left hand on his right and tried to force the pen down. Both of his hands simply stilled at his attempt. His own body kept himself from applying the pressure.

Okay, maybe if he didn't focus on what he was trying to say. He sat, his eyes closed for a moment, and he took in a deep breath. Dipper felt his lungs inflate to their max and slowly he let the air release back out. He pressed the pen to the paper and his eyes snapped back open, he gasped joyously as words finally took form in the blue ink.

I am writing a letter. The reason for this is because I made a mistake. I-

And as quickly as he had started he was once again forced to stop. He frowned and began clicking the pressure point atop the thin plastic stick. Dipper began to ponder what he had learned. He can still write things down, he just couldn't be thinking about Bill when he did it. The same could be said for speaking. Any time he associated the words with Bill or their arrangement, his mouth refused to produce the words. His throat would constrict and his tongue would tie leaving his mouth dry and his mind hazy.

I made a mistake. I am very sorry. I made a-

Dipper growled at the halting hand, tears of frustration forming in the corners of his eyes. Move. He pushed his teeth together, grinding down. He slid forward slouching against the table, his chin was practically against the wood. Just move!

It was his second break down that day, and it wasn't even noon. His head tucked and his bangs pressed against his skull, resting on the desk. Dipper's shoulders were shaking with sobs, his head rolled left and right on the grain. Why wouldn't his hands just move? Why wouldn't his mouth just speak? Dipper's body wasn't his anymore. He had given it up to save his Grunkle Stan. He had sold his soul house. Bill Cipher had the lease and while he still got to live there, he was only renting space. Bill's rules to abide.

The brunette growled with tenacious determination swelling in him, he gripped the pen tighter. Dipper Pines would not take this. Dipper Pines would fight, kick, and scream before he accepted defeat. No, he would NEVER accept defeat. Not to Bill FUCKING Cipher.

Grunkle Ford,

I'm sorry. I made a mistake. We had a deal several years ago. It went sour in unspeakable ways. I hope you understand.

Me, with Lead.

Dipper looked it over. It was crude and silly. It made enough sense to present a front but was vague and unusual enough to make Ford look into it further. Unless he really did think he was that stupid. If he had more time he could fashion something wittier, but as far as he knew Bill was already on his way back. He doubted the demon would stay gone for long. He had to get this letter to Ford. He folded the paper into thirds with the message facing in and wrote "To Grunkle Ford" in large letters on the back.

He felt a lot lighter with his mission mostly accomplished. His tense muscles were starting to retract, relaxing as he drew closer to the gift shop. His Grunkle Stan was behind the counter and gave him a supportive wave before jabbing his pointer finger in the direction of the main showroom. Dipper's eyes lazily followed his uncle's finger and landed on Pacifica who had returned. Or had she never left? And if she hadn't, then how long had she been waiting? He sighed and mentally remarked to deal with her after.

He typed in the combination code in the vending machine to Stan's surprised chagrin. And then the door exploded outward freeing from the wall with a force that knocked Dipper against the far side of the shop.


Note:

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I know this chapter wasn't as long! And a bit of a cliffhanger to boot...