Disclaimer: I do not own Gravity Falls

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Chapter 4:

No Escape from Reality

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Kdyh brx iljxuhg lw rxw, Uhg?

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Wendy groaned, her head slamming down onto her desk. Tears pricked her eyes.

"Fuck." She whispered. "Fucking Goddamn shit."

Her traitorous tears left her eyes, leaking out of tear ducts she wished she didn't have and tracing down the contours of her face, staining the mess of documents she had collapsed on.

She wanted to believe it was all a conspiracy, that somehow the killer couldn't be caught on tape, like a vampire or was magical and could just poof evidence away.

But the sad fact was was that vampire's didn't live in this part of the United States and though she knew next to nothing about magic and was glad for that fact, she was pretty sure magic did not work in they way she was thinking.

Nope. This time, it had been pure luck.

Pure, honest to God, proof that Satan is controlling the world, or aliens, or that the universe is indeed a cruel and horrid place where everything that could go wrong would, and any other crazy conspiracies and belief that explained why the tape recovered from Lowe's had nothing of any use on it.

Closing her tired eyes, Wendy could still see the imprint of the video in her mind's eye. Apparently, Lowe's just so happened to be having a special sale on drills that one fucking day. The entirety of the footage was filled with people of all shapes and sizes buying drills.

She knew the killer was in the video, knew it with her heart and soul and mind. But there was no way to narrow it down. No leads on what the guy looked like and hell, it could be a girl for all she knew, even if handwriting evidence or whatever bullshit said that the killer was male.

People of all races, gender, and color blurred in the redhead's mind, becoming one big blob of confusion and frustration.

She had been so close. So fucking close.

She could imagine handcuffing the fucker. Imagine how she would feel finally bringing the guy to justice. She could imagine the trial that would happen, how all the evidence and all the photos of every single innocent victim would line up, the looks of horror and disgust and oh my God this guy is a monster on their faces. It wouldn't take much to send this guy straight to the table for poison to be pumped into his veins. No, not even the best lawyer money could buy could ever save this guy from righteous justice.

She could almost hear then hammer of justice being slammed on the table, hear the final verdict of completely and utterly guilty the other option was never a real option because this guy truly is an A-grade fucker.

Well, maybe not in those exact words. But she could see the faceless monster being escorted out, decked in the proper color of a nasty orange.

She could see the guy laying on the table, strapped down. Could see the needle being pushed slowly into a vein, thin metal releasing deadly fluid to shutdown whatever black heart the killer had in his chest.

Oh, Wendy could see it all. Every step in the court system, every excuse the hired and most likely nervous lawyer would give; insanity definitely. But that would be shot down fast in the wake of gore and corpses this guy left.

No. When she caught him, he'd be dead for sure.

The problem was in the actual catching part.

No DNA ever left at a crime scene. At least, nothing that could be used. Not a hair, not a sample of skin, not a print. Absolutely and positively nothing.

Wendy sat up weakly, running her shaking hands through her dirty strands of hair once again. Glancing out the window, the girl saw with a pang as the early morning lights weakly filtered through the blinds, pale and gray; fittingly melancholy.

She had pulled another all nighter again.

Sighing, Wendy slowly stood from the old desk she was using, hearing her back pop in pleasure from the movement. Shaking stiffness from her legs, the redhead cracked each of her knuckles, enjoying the sharp sound that split the silent air, like a knife through butter.

Rolling her shoulders and popping her neck, Wendy could practically feel her blood speeding up once again as she became slightly more active. Blinking her eyes a few times, she stumbled away from the desk to go over to her suitcase, fishing out some clean clothes to change into.

After a quick brush through her hair and teeth, Wendy tossed her dirty clothes and all her toiletries into her bag.

Packed and nearly ready to go, Wendy turned to go and gather up the mess of documents.

Staring down at the list of dead people and the photos that went along, Wendy felt another spark of rage go through her.

She had been so close.

Scooping up the documents, she carefully filed them away and slipped them into an inner pocket in her jacket, right next to the journal that she both cherished and hated.

The killer was done here. And if he was going to continue to move west, as expected, his next target would undoubtedly be...

Idaho.

Wendy let out a huge yawn, one that pained her mouth, made tears spring out of her eyes, and gave her a wave of dizziness.

Thank God the Idaho border was only a short drive away.

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He stared at the naked body before him, his apathy slowly mixing with a slight excitement.

Tears streaked down her face; past her blindfold, clear and visible. Most likely salty. Just like blood.

Tears were to blood as watered down beer was to moonshine, after all.

He chuckled lightly at his thoughts.

"Being poetic, I see? You're in a chipper mood!" The Other said to him cheerfully.

He shrugged in response.

"Looks like I'm rubbing off on you. It's a good thing, really. You should always look up to those superior, after all."

"Superior? You? Don't make me laugh!" The Angel snapped, slight desperation mixed with resignation in her tone. Bags hung under her eyes, heavy and hurtful. She was so tired. So, so tired.

But she could not rest yet.

The Other snorted. "Make you laugh? Impossible! All the humor drained out of you a long time ago!"

She scowled, but couldn't deny that fact.

A large wet sniff broke the three out of their conversation.

He turned to the woman before him, once again watching as tears stained her face.

They always cried.

Always.

He wasn't surprised.

Striding up to her- Donna, was her name, he quickly did a double check on her hand towel he was using for her gag. It was slightly stained from washing dirty glasses and hadn't been cleaned yet.

"Does your towel taste bad?" He asked he in a surprisingly gentle voice. "I wish I could've gotten you a better one. At least a towel that was clean. But I was running short on time and how many others are there with the name Donna?"

Donna, as expected, didn't say anything. She didn't even acknowledge someone was talking to her. She simply continued to cry in forced silence.

"Not many, I don't think." The Other answered for him.

"Yeah. That's what I thought too." He agreed with him.

He turned back to the woman, now watching her tears drip onto the ground with a slow but steady drip drip drip, the sound deafening in the oppressive stillness.

"Tears are more interesting when your hanging upside down." He assured Donna, lightly patting her on the shoulder, causing the woman to flinch violently which, in turn, lead to her to start swinging back and forth slowly.

"You might not want to do that." He advised, quickly making sure the ropes he used were still sturdy and strong. "The more you swing, the more painful it'll be in the future."

"Speaking of the future, can we get a move on already?" The Other complained with a moan. "I mean, as much fun it is to watch a human pendulum, I think blood and guts are a bit more fun."

"Yeah. I guess your right." He agreed, taking his weapon of choice out of his pocket.

A medium-sized red hand screwdriver.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The Angel, as always, backed up away from the two, eyes a storm of pain, loss, sorrow, and bitter acceptance.

She turned away. Like she always did.

Anything and everything about the Angel fell from his mind as he lifted the screwdriver up, letting it glint under the single bulb that hung above.

"So, what's your plans with this one? I mean, last time your work wasn't all that fun. Well, the vomiting and drill part for sure! But it was kinda tame. Not nearly enough blood."

He smirked slightly at the other and said nothing. Instead, he stepped carefully around the cocooned woman, letting his steps echo with the drip of her tears.

Donna whimpered.

The Other snickered.

He went behind her, looking at a small section of the wrist that happened to be uncovered from where she was tied. Not looking anywhere but her pale skin, he carefully set the cool, rounded metal right next to a pulsating purple vein. He could almost see the blood rush faster as fear clouded her.

Donna's breaths quickened.

A small grin graced his features. It was unusual on his face, unassuming at first until one took a closer look, seeing too many teeth, how fixated and strained it seemed with just a hint of vague instability. It was a smile that made children lie awake in bed and night, one that made chills rush across skin while one's spine shivered from the sight.

Unsettling.

It was a good thing Donna couldn't see him.

He held the screwdriver in place, feeling it pump in time with her rushing blood. Another wave of excitement went through him. His mind felt...sharp and everything around him was thrown into great detail. The world was less fuzzy, less confounding, less gray.

It was just him. Him, the Other, the Angel, and Donna.

That's all there was.

He slowly put pressure on the screwdriver, watching as the skin slowly sunk in, bending from the screwdriver easily enough.

He held the light pressure for a bit.

Donna whimpered, distress and terror loud and clear. She started wriggling again.

Grabbing the ropes, he forced her to be still again.

"Stop that." He commanded, not unkindly. "It'll be worse for both of us if you do that, so just...don't."

Making sure she wouldn't try wiggling again, he let go of her ropes, using his fingers to stop any slight swaying that might of happened.

Eyes falling back to the screwdriver at her wrist, he put a bit more pressure on it while giving it a slight, unnoticeable twist.

He held it again, completely still and quiet until he heard more whines of horror. Then he continued.

He broke few a through layers of skin.

He watched in fascination as a few flaps of skin fluttered away and down, disappearing into the ground.

Donna hiccuped, a small and pathetic sound that drove him to jam the rest of the screwdriver into her flesh. He could feel the skin break as the metal was driven in.

This time, Donna let out a muffled scream and thrashed wildly. Gripping the screwdriver tightly, he allowed the woman to squirm, the tool in her wrist enlarging the small wound. Bright red blood bubbled around the metal rod and trickled down her bound wrist, pooling onto the rope he used, staining it.

Donna was gasping in agony now. He could hear it in her voice, see it in the way she trembled.

Another pinprick of pure thrill stabbed it's way through his heart.

He felt...

He felt...

He was feeling.

Emotion itself was euphoric to him.

Absolute euphoria.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Letting out a small, shaky gasp, he drove the screwdriver in deeper, his hand now resting against her too-hot wrist.

The tool parted bones in her wrist, he could feel them grinding together, the sound blending with her screams in perfect harmony.

There was some more resistance. Bones and ligaments were hard to cut with a simple screwdriver, after all. Carefully wrapping a thin arm around her waist, he steadied the both of them before using his remaining strength to drive the tool through, cutting through all leftover resistance and jutting out the other end of her wrist.

Another muffled scream tore through the woman as wracks of pain shook her body.

Almost gently, he let go of the screwdriver and took a step back, eyes glinting proudly in the darkness.

The tool stayed in it's position, entirely red now. More blood dribbled from the wound, thin streams that simply landed on the rope, making them slick. Her wrist was shivering, large throbs making the limb pulsate. Narrowing his eyes, he could see that it was throbbing in time with her racing pulse.

"Well. That was fun." The Other finally said, coming up next to him.

He nodded mindlessly in return.

He didn't really feel better.

He didn't feel worse.

But he felt. And that's what was important.

The Other took a close look at Donna's wrist, admiring the wound with the eyes of a connoisseur. "So are you going to use more screwdrivers or-"

He stepped forward once again, ignoring the Other's question. Grabbing the handle, he yanked the tool out with one clean and smooth motion, causing another cry from the woman to ring out.

The Other said nothing to him. He merely watched.

Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a zip-lock baggy full of shiny new screws of different lengths and sizes. They clanged together as he opened the bag, pulling one out carefully, the metal on metal noise briefly overtaking the sound of tears dripping onto the wood.

Donna started to make more muffled noises, most likely demanding to know what was happening and what he was doing.

He decided to indulge her.

"I'm afraid I can't quite make out what your saying." He told her politely, re-zipping the bag and tucking it away. "However, I think I do know what you are trying to convey. It's always the same questions after all."

The woman fell still at his last statement, but her sounds got louder. If he tried, he probably could pick out words in the mess of snarls, but quite frankly, there was no real need to.

"To answer your questions I think you have." He started, raising his low voice so she could hear him over herself. "No, I'm not telling you why, no, I will not let you go, and yes, I do consider you my friend." He spoke plainly.

Donna's muddled protests fell silent at the hard, unhinged tone he used. More shivers attacked her body.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Now, let's continue." He stated, his tone suggesting finalization. Screw in one hand and screwdriver in the other, he carefully slipped the end of the screw into the hole he had punched through her wrist, wriggling it enough for it to not slip out. Carefully, he placed the end of the screwdriver on the head, lining up the grooves perfectly. Holding it steady with one hand, he slowly screwed the screw in.

Donna let out another muddled screech of pain, body trembling with agony as the metal gouged into her flesh, twirling it up inside the wound.

He was slow and steady with the screw. Humming a familiar, peaceful song under his breath, he continued his work calmly.

He was able to get about one third of the screw in before bone and ligaments became a problem. Furrowing his brow slightly, he put more force behind his own wrist, jiggling the tool a bit to try and get the angle correct. However, the crudely splintered bone would not allow the screw anymore entrance.

"Well, look at this. It won't go all the way in." He murmured in complaint.

"Eh." The Other snorted. "Just take a hammer and nail the rest into her."

He shook his head. "You can't do that. It's a screw. It's not smooth."

"So? They're both the same shape. Kinda."

He snorted. "That won't work and would probably break the rest of Donna's wrist."

Donna jerked at the sound of him saying her name.

"I don't want that. She's being really good right now. I think she's my favorite friend so far." He finished calmly, seemingly not to have noticed the woman's violent jerks or watery cries.

"Whatever floats your boat." The Other concluded, falling silent to watch once again in glee.

Taking the screwdriver out of the screw's head, he made sure the metal would stay before walking back in front of Donna.

Resting his head on his hand, he cocked his head to the side in an almost curious nature, dark eyes unwavering and serious.

"Hmm, there's so many possibilities, aren't there?" He said to no one in particular. Cracking his neck softly, he stepped closer to the woman, just now noticing the sweat gathered on her pale flesh.

"You're so pale." He remarked plainly. "I can almost see every vein inside you!"

He grinned.

"You definitely are my favorite so far." He reassured her, taking in the slightly sagging rolls of fat. Her belly button was deep and dark, a black hole.

Giggling childishly, he reached in and took out another screw from his baggy. Lightly pressing his fingers on her stomach, he steadily entered the screw into her belly button, twisting it slightly so it would catch the skin and hold.

It was half-way in before it stopped.

"Wow. You have the deepest belly button I have ever seen. Though, I can't say I've seen many, so that might not mean much."

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The woman let out a distressed sob.

He leaned back, taking in her appearance with wide eyes. There were so many options, really.

Carefully lifting the screwdriver once again, he gently laid the tip on multiple parts of her body, barely brushing the skin as he did so. First, on her right side, between two of her ribs. Then, he dragged it downward, making sure the tip ghosted over sweaty skin, causing goose flesh to rise.

He rested it on her hip, right above the rope. Smirking slightly, he moved it over again, slower this time, to her vagina, lightly resting it against one of her folds, gently tickling the shaved area.

Donna visibly froze, paralyzed at what was happening to her. Weak whimpers hissed out of her mouth, barely heard and not understood.

He frowned. "I'm not a rapist." He said slowly. "Sex is...repulsive." He mentioned as an afterthought. "Slimy and uncomfortable. Pointless." He removed the screwdriver, gliding it to her left side, between her ribs yet again.

"For now, we'll keep it kinda simple, okay?"

She didn't give him an answer.

He sneered.

"Very well then. I'll think I'll start..."

He shifted the tool downwards, so it was between her bottom two ribs. Gripping it tightly with one hand, he jabbed it into her soft flesh with as much force as he could, beating through the protective layer and scraping against her bone. Blood trickled out, held in by the metal. Wriggling the screwdriver around a bit to widen the hole some, he slipped it back out easily enough.

Donna let out a scream from behind her gag as more tears poured from her eyes.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the orchestra of dripping tears and blood topped with a melody of muffled screams.

Without opening his eyes, he fumbled for another screw, almost dropping the bag twice.

Putting the bag away again, he slipped the screw into her once again. Holding the head between two gloved fingers, he guided the screwdriver over it and started twisting the metal into her.

Unlike her wrist, this one actually went in all the way and held pretty firmly, metal gouged into the skin inside.

"Looks like I was right!" He said with cheer, honest pride in his voice. "Ribs are a good place. Let's try somewhere new, shall we?"

Donna was silent, completely and utterly spent. She simply hung there, unable to do anything. Her face was purple from being upside down for so long, hazel eyes closed. Gag still firmly in mouth, it was only her visible, pulsating veins that told him she was still alive.

"Looks like she passed out." The Other said, clear disappointment in his voice.

He sighed and ran his hand thorough his surprisingly fluffy locks, ignoring the fact that he was getting blood on him. "Yeah. Maybe hanging her upside down wasn't the best decision."

The Other shrugged. "Ah, well. Better luck next time, I guess."

He nodded.

"So, are you going to kill her? Cut out her liver and shove it up her anus?"

He wrinkled his nose. "Ew, no. That's gross."

The Other laughed at him. "Out of everything, that's what disgusts you?"

He shrugged. "Asses are gross. It's where shit comes out. I don't want to be anywhere near that."

"Understandable. Human bodies are repulsive." The Other mimicked him.

He gave a slight nod and reached up to lightly place the screwdriver between the next two ribs.

"So you're going to continue?"

"I don't have any other uses for all these screws."

"Well, you shouldn't have bought so many, then."

"Didn't know exactly how many I was going to need."

The Other chuckled as he rammed the screwdriver in yet again.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

"touché."

~~0~~0~~0~~

"Dipper...I don't know about this. Seems really dangerous."

Dipper scoffed at her and waved a careless hand. "I'll be fine, Wendy. It's just simple magic. Basic defense and all that. It's not like I'm trying to steal souls or whatever."

His words did little to calm her worry.

"Simple magic?" She questioned. "Isn't that like, an oxymoron or something?"

Dipper shook his head. "It's easier than you think." he looked up at her with clear and earnest eyes, patting the patch of grass next to him as an invite to join.

Wendy didn't want anything to do with this. She'd seen and fought some of the magical creatures found. Heck, she'd been face-to-face with literal demons! Magic was bad news, and she knew it. Beasts and creatures of mystic and wonder practiced magic; not human boys.

Wendy lowered herself onto the grass next to him, shoulders still and back ramrod straight, looking as if she was ready to bolt at any time.

Dipper lightly chuckled at her antics. "It's fine Wendy. Geeze, I've never seen you so stressed before. Are you sure you haven't eaten another magical mushroom?"

Wendy rolled her eyes at him. Relaxing slightly, Wendy shot back "oh, that was one time and it was both you and Mabel's fault and you know it!" The read head flashed him a grin to show that she was joking.

Dipper cracked a wry smile at her, glad he had seen her cue for being sarcastic. Even he had to admit he was a bit too serious at times.

As in sometimes.

Dipper laid the journal next to him and pulled a book off of a stack he had brought with him into the forest. It was heavy and dusty looking, an ugly brown color with suspicious darker stains splattered onto the cover.

Dipper glanced at her from the corner of his eye before cracking the book open.

"Yes, I admit that not all magic is good magic." He shifted the heavy book into her lap. It's yellowed and crinkly pages stared up at her, covered in a messy scrawl. It was actually written in English, much to her surprise, though glancing through the pages, she wished it weren't.

Shuddering at a specific page on how to devour souls, Wendy turned to Dipper nervously, trying her best to ignore the strange expression he had on his face.

"Why do you have a book on dark magic? And why are you showing it to me? This isn't convincing me, Dipper. It's actually doing the opposite."

Dipper's expression melted back into a warm one. "Well, I want to know what sort of things dark magic does. If I know about it, I'll be able to find and sense it better so I could take action to prevent it. Also, that book also goes over demonic magic as well, not just dark magic."

"Those are different?"

Dipper shrugged. "Apparently. To answer your second question, I want to show you the bad part of magic to admit that yes; magic can be evil. But-"

Dipper took the book from her and laid it out before the both of them, a disgusting picture of a man kissing a corpse being displayed in the book. Dipper turned away and grabbed another book, this one even thicker with a dark gray cover. Some sort of Latin words were printed on the cover, though Wendy had no clue on what they spelled out.

Dipper, like before, placed the book on her lap. Carefully, Wendy flipped to a random page, finding a spell that seemed to safely dispel fire, used if there wasn't any water around.

"-Magic can also be useful." Dipper finished, letting Wendy leaf through the book. Most was in Latin, though Dipper's sticky notes slapped onto the margins translated what it was saying.

As Dipper had said, nearly all the spells were either defensive in a way or just plain useful. Such as teleportation, breathing underwater, a magical shield, and even sleeping spells. Hell, there was even a spell to make your food taste a bit more salty without actually adding any salt!

"See?" Dipper smirked, eyes alight in mischief and an I-told-you-so aura radiating out of him.

Wendy couldn't help it; she laughed. Keeping the page open to the salt spell, she placed the gray book next to it's gross brown counter-part, clearly seeing the two sides of the same trade.

"Yeah. I see."

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Qrw bhw, exw brx zloo

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Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!