Dipper Pines hunkered back in the TV room of the Shack, surrounded by weapons amassed by both his Grunkles that he'd had to learn to use on the fly, and he still had the bruises on his arms and cheeks from the kick to show for it.

The monsters had all but stopped coming for him for the past couple of days, but he wasn't being too careful. He set loud alarms that would wake him up from his allotted two hours of sleep and made patrols around the windows to make sure nothing was coming close enough to put a kink in the wards.

He wasn't an idiot. With his family MIA and the journals gone, he had no chance of stopping this. The best that he could do was stay here with the guns, the stock of food, and his walkie talkie with the hopes that even if Mabel didn't pick up, SOMEONE would.

Dipper had hoped that at least Grunkle Stan would come back, but even he was missing. He feared that his Grunkle had been out in the woods when everything went to hell, and now ANYTHING could have happened to him. Dipper was just thankful that there was plenty of ammunition to spare, since Ford's weapons had to be routinely recharged.

He couldn't keep living like this. Hunkered back in this house, a gun constantly in his hands, losing out on sleep, waiting for the end of it all. But he didn't want to be caught by Bill and subjected to whatever sadistic torture the demon had in mind.

His eyes drifted wearily to the electronic watch he'd found, the only way for him to tell time in this eternal state of red-skied dusk, his throat closing up slightly when he saw that it was—technically—11:22 at night, August 30th.

It was his birthday in about thirty minutes.

He leaned back against the chair, his eyes clenched shut to keep the tears from welling up. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be celebrating his birthday with Mabel tomorrow, not barricading himself in this house, armed to the teeth and waiting for the end, whatever or however it may be.

Despite his efforts, a choked sob crawled up his throat. He pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face against them, a pistol shaking in his hand. He didn't want to be alone on his birthday, or for the rest of his life. He didn't want to keep suffering like this, without any of his family here for him.

He let out a wail of despair, tears streaming down his face as he finally broke down, unable to take it anymore. He wanted his family! He wanted his sister! He wanted this all to just END!

His hand tightened around the pistol, a dark, flickering thought passing over his brain. It would be quick, right? It's what he'd heard. That it was one of the quickest ways to go? It was better than starving to death, or being torn apart and eaten by monsters, or whatever torture Bill would dish out to him.

Dipper raised his head, swallowing hard as he contemplated the weapon in his hand. Could he even get the nerve to do it? Would he feel any pain? Would it really make all of this better?

If…by some coincidence his family was dead…would he see them again?

He chewed his lip until he tasted blood, weighing his options over slowly, jumping when the alarm on his watch signaled that it was time for another sweep of the property from the house. He wiped his eyes, forcing himself to his feet and swapping out the pistol for a shotgun.

One more sweep. Just one more.

He glanced out the windows, still seeing no monsters in sight. He finished off his rounds at the gift shop window, taking a glance out before doing a double-take.

No.

No, it couldn't be…

Out in the bleak darkness of the world was a figure in pink, hurrying up to the Shack, shouting something.

"…ipper!"

Dipper scrubbed his face to wake himself up more, looking out the window again. It was still there.

"Dipper! DIPPER!"

MABEL!

Dipper threw open the door and stumbled out onto the back porch, able to see clearly now that it WAS Mabel, hurrying up to the Shack, her pink sweater shining like a bright beacon of hope in this world of monsters—

WAIT.

He raised the gun, panic surging through his veins. "STOP!" he shouted shrilly, his voice cracking from fear and disuse. "DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!"

'Mabel' skidded to a halt, looking at him pleadingly. "Dipper! It's ME!" she said. "C'mon, bro-bro, don't you recognize me?"

"DON'T pull that crap!" Dipper snapped, his hands shaking nevertheless with the horrible thought that maybe he COULD be pointing a gun at his sister. But there were alarms going off in his head. That wasn't the sweater she was wearing when she vanished. She was too CLEAN for being out in this world for a week. But here she was! COULD it be her…?

"Dipper, it's me," 'Mabel' said, reaching out her hand but staying where she was. "Please, trust me!"

Dipper let out a bark of hysterical laugh, feeling tears well up again. "T…trust you…?" he stammered, choking back a sob. "F…for god's sakes, Mabel…LOOK AROUND US! Does it LOOK like I can TRUST anything that's right in front of me?!" He shifted his shoulder forward to use his sleeve to wipe at his tears, not taking the gun off of her. "What I want is PROOF!"

'Mabel' was silent for a few long moments, her hands playing with the hem of her sweater. "…I don't know what I can say," she finally said. "…other than…back that day, you HURT me." Her voice creaked, going quiet. "After everything this summer, you were just going to leave me behind…"

She reached into a pocket of her sweater and took out a walkie talkie, holding it up. "I needed you that day! To tell me that we were going to face everything together, to BE there for each other! But what does any of THAT matter now?" She threw the walkie talkie to the ground before stomping on it hard. "We've never been apart for so long before, Dipper!" She held out her hand again. "…So let's not make it any longer."

Dipper was almost blinded by his tears, his hands shaking even harder before he dropped the shotgun, wiping at his eyes as he cried like a child. "M…Mabel…!" he stuttered, hurrying off of the porch and away from the Shack, running to his sister and hugging her tightly. "Mabel, I'm so sorry! I didn't…I didn't mean for ANY of this to happen! I NEVER wanted to hurt you like that, I SWEAR—!"

Mabel hugged him back, squeezing him tightly. "Most awkward of sibling hugs," she said, smiling. "It's okay, broseph…really. We're together again…and not a moment too soon! We're going to be together for our birthday after all!"

Dipper hugged her tighter, smiling. "Yeah…" he said, sniffling. "Yeah, we will. We'll….we'll get through this, Mabel…I promise."

"I know," Mabel replied before leaning back, beaming. "Ugh, you're a mess. Let's fix that right up for you!" She stepped back and flicked his chest, and Dipper yelped when his torn, dirty clothes were out-of-the-dryer fresh, his skin no longer grimy and hair cleaner than he'd had it in what felt like forever.

"WHOA—!" he cried, stumbling back. "HOW—Mabel, what did you—" He broke off when he looked up and got a good look at her eyes, which were glowing bright pink, the pupils very distinct star shapes. He felt the blood drain from his face and his legs turn to jelly. "What…did you…do…?"

"I fixed you up, duh!" Mabel replied. "Just one of the neat little perks I got! I'm still getting used to it. You will too!" She beamed more brightly, levitating off the ground from sheer giddiness it seemed. "So come on, bro-bro! Let's get going! Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are waiting for us!"

Dipper took a shaky step backwards, his legs almost giving out from terror. "…w…waiting for us…where…?" he stammered, taking another step back and bumping into something solid that wasn't there before, freezing up.

"A poignant question, Pine Tree," came that horribly chilling voice from right behind him. "And let me answer that with THIS!" There was a snap of fingers, and Dipper found himself staring at two large bubbles, one dark red with a golden Six-Fingered Hand sealed in the middle, and the other dark gold with a red Crescent seal.

Dipper felt his heart drop when he recognized the symbols, and jumped violently when Bill's arm curled around his shoulder.

"Sixer and Fez are almost done incubating," Bill said, his tone of voice almost proud and anticipating. "Took 'em long enough. Shooting Star was finished before them, and she had less to work with!" He tightened his hold around Dipper, feeling the boy's legs give out from under him. "Buuuuuut, I think that Fez might be the next to come out!"

Mabel squealed, hovering up to Stanley's bubble and hugging it. "C'mon out, Grunkle Stan!" she sang. "We're all here now!"

"…In…incubating…." Dipper muttered, staring at the bubbles. "…they're…they're in there…why are they…why are they incubating…?"

"Excellent question, Pine Tree," Bill said, flicking his hand to keep Dipper levitating next to him as he expanded in size and took Stanley's bubble into his hands. "Unfortunately, you're too mentally weak to take the whole story all at once, so I'll give you the abridged version. I'm your great-grandfather! THAT makes Stanford and Stanley and even your grandfather Sherman the carriers of my lineage, and ergo in facto, you and Shooting Star my descendants!"

Dipper felt the icy-hot wave of nausea in his insides churn around, his head going swimmy. That couldn't be true…it just couldn't be…it was impossible for that to be…

"Oooh, Bill, look!" Mabel squealed, poking at Stanford's bubble. "He's ready too!" She beamed up at Bill, her pink eyes shining. "Do you think they'll be ready at the exact same time!?"

Bill waved his hand, summoning Stanford's bubble to it, looking between them. "It's a close call, Shooting Star," he said, actually feeling excitement for this. His eye gleamed with anticipation as he watched the red and gold bubbles pulse and glimmer, like they were having a race to see who could finish first.

Dipper stared at the bubbles, his body shaking as it hovered in the air, watching the two bubbles shimmer and pulse before expanding outward and then retracting inward, leaving two shapeless masses in Bill's palms.

Those shapeless things used to be his great-uncles. His Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford were gone. He felt tears run down his face, feeling the overwhelming hopelessness and despair wash over him again. Bill had taken his family after all, and this was Dipper's torture, watching the shapeless things shift and reform into something…different.

Bill kept his attention on the 'newborns' in his palms, watching them reform with intense curiosity. In his left palm was Stanley, whose dark gold glowing form faded to black and humanoid. The reshaping faded, and Stanley sat himself up, showing his body form to be reminiscent to his early thirties. His fingers ended in sharp claws, and he had TWO sets of eyes, all four glowing gold without pupils. Golden veins ran over his skin, looking like tiny rivers of molten lava, heat radiating from his body like anything that touch it would catch on fire. Steam escaped his lips when he exhaled, and his lips drew back to show dozens of needlelike teeth.

In Bill's right palm, Stanford's form darkened until the red color was almost black, the form far from humanoid. It instead resembled a writhing mass of tendrils that squirmed and expanded out, the ends testing the air and firmness of Bill's hand before curling back in, clumping together to form something akin to a long torso and two spindly arms. Out of the writhing mass on top of the torso, Stanford's face emerged, but only his face. Where the rest of his head should be was only a mass of blackness that sifted like a clump of thick smoke. When he opened the eyes on his face, ten more eyes opened in the air around his 'head', all blinking and rotating about of their own individual accord. The eyes were all different colors, running the gamut of green, blue, brown, red, and gold, each one honing in on a different point of interest.

Mabel's squeal of delight pretty much summed up Bill's feelings on the issue, allowing him to maintain some dignity. For hybrid abominations, they were absolutely PERFECT! He held his hands higher, his eye gleaming. "Well aren't you just aces!" he exclaimed. "Didn't I tell ya? NOW look at you!"

Stanley looked over his hands and his body before standing, his eyes flashing a brighter gold as his signature Mr. Mystery suit appeared on his body, tailored to perfection. "Much better," he said, his voice having a smoother texture to it. He glanced over at Ford, snorting. "At least you kept your pretty face, Ford."

All twelve of Ford's eyes glowered at Stan, and then rolled in conjunction as the six-way-split tentacles that made up his arms and fingers shifted experimentally. "Yes, Stanley," he replied, his voice overlaid with several echoes on top of the other, "at least I kept the pretty face."

Stanley bared his mouthful of teeth at Stanford. "Put some clothes on, you look like a pile of deer entrails."

"Boys, boys!" Mabel huffed, hovering between them. "Don't start fighting ALREADY! You BOTH look freakishly awesome!" She pulled them to her in a glow of pink, hugging them both. "Now we're all together again! Isn't it GREAT!? Right, Dipper?"

Dipper was staring with a mix of revulsion and horror, his face chalk pale and soaked with tears. His hands were shaking by his sides, paralyzing panic locking his body up as he felt what little hope and sense in his mind smother and die.

"Aww, I don't think Pine Tree is all too happy, Shooting Star," Bill said, plucking the boy up out of the air to hold him at eye-level. "Seriously, Pine Tree, I don't know WHAT you're so upset about. Your family is here, in perfect health, and eager to be together." He glanced to the side, seeing Stanley and Stanford practically rearing like rival cats over Mabel's head. "…Somewhat. But in ANY case, it's not like we're leaving you out of the happy reunion, you know."

Dipper curled up on himself, his nails digging into the flesh of his arms as he shook his head with disbelief. "….this isn't happening…" he kept muttering over and over, his eyes wide with panic and fading sanity.

Bill rolled his eye, waving his hand and sending Dipper over to the trio off to the side. "Yeah, I don't have the patience for this," he muttered. "You've got five minutes to convince him, or I'm calling it a lost cause."

He immediately had three—technically nine because of Stanford and Stanley—pairs of eyes snapped onto him at the statement. Stanford's body tendrils expanded threateningly, Stanley's teeth were bared, and black matter seeped from Mabel's eyes instead of pink, a triple-threat aura of possession and warning emitted from all three.

Mabel reached out and snatched her brother out of the air, her jovial expression turning demonically murderous as she held him tightly. "ALL OF US OR NONE OF US," she growled at Bill, the normal girlish tone being overshadowed by a resonating baritone in a familial likeness to his own. On either side of her, the Pines Twins the Elder looked tensed and ready to tear something apart, inhuman growls resonating through the air between them.

Dipper's head shakily raised enough to see over Mabel's shoulder, feeling that smothered spark of hope rekindle somewhat. His sister was holding him. His Grunkles were protecting him. And if it wasn't his imagination…Bill looked apprehensive. He WAS aware that he was behind held a good distance up in the air, and curled his arms around Mabel tightly, just as a precaution.

Bill narrowed his eye, staring at the Pines before him, his absentminded query of whether or not the family ties would still be there being answered. Mabel, Stanley, and Stanford seemed content and comfortable in their new skins, almost eager for their new lives, only to snap back into enemy mode at the mention of anything happening to Dipper. The only difference was, as they were now, they could actually do some damage.

He weighed his options and found, to no surprise, that keeping them together was his best bet.

With an exaggerated sigh, Bill raised his hands almost placatingly. "Jeeze, cool your jets, all of you!" he said. "I said I'd call it a lost cause, not that I'd chuck the kid into a fire pit." He put his hands on his sides, honing in on Dipper this time. "Choice is yours, Pine Tree," he said. "The family is all here, and you're one snooze away from being on the same tier. So what's it gonna be?"

A strange combination of hope and hopelessness made an odd cocktail in Dipper's brain. His family was here, albeit a hot mess of demonic forms, and no hope for the human race to be seen on the horizon. But he actually had a place here, among the gods and monsters.

…with his family.

Dipper lifted his head, looking Bill in the eye, his resolution returning. "…I want to be with my family," he said, raising his hand in a facsimile of sealing his fate like a deal. "I'll do it."

Bill cackled, waving his hand, taking Dipper from Mabel's hold and into his own. "Good choice, kiddo," he said. "You wont regret this."

Dipper glanced back at the monstrosities that was his family, then back to Bill, suddenly feeling like the only REAL freak among everything else. And he wanted that to change. "…we'll see," he said, closing his eyes. "Do it."

Bill cupped his hands around Dipper's body, putting the boy to sleep and encasing him in a dark blue bubble, sealed with the sign of the Pine Tree. He held the bubble carefully, looking up at the other three Pines, who seemed to calm themselves somewhat. "Well, that's that," he announced. "Back to the Fearamid, folks! Time to crank the party up WORLDWIDE!"

Mabel squealed, doing a mid-air somersault before flying up to Dipper's bubble and settling on top of it, pressing her cheek to the surface. "Wake up soon, bro-bro," she said. "I don't want you being left out of everything!"

"Oh, trust me, Shooting Star, he wont miss much," Bill replied, lazily making his way back to his fortress. "He'll be incubated and out before you know it." He glanced back at the other two demi-demons trailing behind. "…You might want to go break the twins up before their birthday becomes their deathday."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Okaaaaaaaay," she droned out, levitating up. "Take good care of my bro-bro, mkay?" She levitated up and then proceeded to give him a loud kiss on one of his edges before hurrying to break up her arguing Grunkles.

Bill grimaced slightly, rubbing the area where she'd kissed him. That was unnecessarily saccharine, he thought as he teleported back to the Fearamid, passing up his friends and associates, who all began staring and snickering.

"…What is it?" he demanded. Pyronica giggled, batting her lashes.

"Looooooove the color, Bill!" she tittered. "Works so well with your eye!"

Color? What—

He looked down at his body, seeing that it was now a bright fluorescent pink. His eye twitched.

"SHOOTING STAR!"

Ford's demon design belongs to owlapinart on tumblr. Other designs are my own.