AHHHHH! Y'all don't know how fucking happy I am that I'm back! That mental break really has me feeling great and I have some great ass ideas for this story! (I'm thinking this story may get a part two...who knows;) )
Thank you guys for still giving me a chance to put this story back out! Some people would have still been mad at me and not read it anymore...
Hope y'all enjoy!
Dipper has two major problems, but at the moment, one's a lot more prominent.
Bill is still - and forever - a pain in the ass to deal with, but he's more like… background noise at the moment. Dipper's used to him by now, and can deal with his bullshit easily, almost reflexively.
The big problem is that he…. kinda cursed the town.
It was startling to see a whole street passed out on the ground. He'd cringed, and tried to look away, except that it was everywhere. Pretty large area of effect - he'd thought - until Bill and him had kept walking, and seeing more and more people stretched prone on the streets, and sidewalk, and the crashed cars, and- He'd upgraded 'large' to 'really freaking huge'.
It's just like when he tried to light the candles. Just a small thing, it should have barely worked-
And then it blew up in his face.
It's a problem for everyone, not just Dipper - hell, it was an accident - but it's his fault, and he feels awful anyway. This curse has got to be broken fast, because he's got no idea how permanent it is, or if it has individual effects, or - anything about it, really.
It's not a problem for Bill, though, who practically bounced with enthusiasm the whole time they headed back. Dipper feels like he should be upset about it, but he's calm, and unsurprised. Again, he's getting used to Bill.
The few people who aren't affected - mostly those on the outside of town, a surprising number of people inside town who were somehow missed, or unaffected - are banding together to find a solution.
And the culprit. Dipper figured he'd help out with the former rather than the latter.
What that means is that he's sitting at the kitchen table with Grunkle Stan, flipping through books, asking each other about ideas, hell, even googling things. (Mostly Dipper's job. Stan still has kind of a hazy concept of 'internet' beyond 'I can make money from this, somehow!')
Stan's not an expert or anything, but at least he's still awake, and he's gained tons of magical experience over the years. A lot of creative uses have gone into parts of the Shack.
Stan sighs, chucks the book he's looking at over his shoulder, and slumps. "Well, I'm stumped. I give up." He rubs at the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses. "Any ideas?"
Dipper… figures he should be more surprised, but he's not. "Sorry," He admits. He hasn't actually been reading, he's been going over what he did - quietly, just… little touches of magic and will - but he can't figure out what the reverse of what he did would be. "Haven't a clue."
Stan frowns. He taps one shoe on the floor. "Well, I got one," he grumbles.
What?
"What?" Dipper asks, and tenses. "A clue about… uh," He stares back at the book open in his hands. "How to fix this?"
"Yeah," says Stan, and taps his finger on the table as well. "This is too big for you or me," He runs a hand through his greying hair. "I'm gonna call my brother."
"Oh!" Dipper straightens up, surprised. "Ford? Wait, he's-"
Off exploring mystical reaches of existence, and remote areas - practically an adventurer - extraordinarily skilled practitioner, and not one of those flashy ones either, only using the tiniest bit of power. He's still amazing, a talented cursebreaker - and a demon hunter.
Dipper should be excited. If anyone could figure out how to separate him from Bill, it would be Ford….
But.
God, it was so stupid to try something like making a fake familiar in the first place, he can't say he basically did the mystical power equivalent of, of jerking off to his freaking Great Uncle. Ford might be understanding, but there's nothing about that conversation that wouldn't be really really awkward. Or worse, Ford could be disappointed in him. And wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake on this whole, fucked up, humiliating situation.
Not to mention Bill wasn't, technically, summoned. They're bonded. Part of his weird demonic energy is all wrapped up with Dipper. It's like a warm light somewhere in his chest, though he tries to ignore it most of the time. Dipper thinks about what that's going to feel like when it ends.
It's supposed to hurt, like. A lot. He's definitely not looking forward to…
Dipper clears his throat. He'll cross that bridge when he comes to it.
"So… Ford's pretty hard to find…" Travelling everywhere, doing the unimaginable - it's worse than only not being near a phone, when there's magical interference involved. "How're you-?"
Stan sighs again, harder, and stands up, pressing his hands against the tabletop and knocking off a couple of books. "Old trick from back in the day. Should still work." He frowns. "…Yeah, it'll be fine. We can at least talk. Get some ideas."
"Awesome! So what-"
Stan groans. "No offense kid, but this is gonna be a complete pain - and just so you know, it's gonna be literally painful - So I'm gonna take this to the other room for a minute." He sounds more than a little disgruntled. For a moment, Stan looks off into the distance - then he shakes his head. "Stay here and keep reading. You like that stuff, right?"
"Sure," Dipper agrees hesitantly. The relationship between the Stans has always been a bit tense, but he's never asked about it. It's probably kind of personal.
He watches Stan retreat into the living room, quietly grumbling. He flips through the books some more, breathing out sharply at how completely useless every single one of them is - oh man, this page is just completely false, it's misleading as hell.
Sitting up quickly, Dipper looks around himself - nobody here, Stan's busy, Mabel's still cursed into a magical sleep - Carefully, he burns the page out of the book, using the smallest flame he can. It's oddly satisfying.
Then he slams it shut. And waits.
Not even ten seconds later, he's standing with his ear pressed against the door to the living room. He stepped close as quietly as possible - Stan wanted privacy - but hey, it's a strange spell, and he's always been interested in the theory, even if he has, or, (a little burst of pride surges in him) had, problems with practicing it.
Instead of whatever chant or ritual Stan uses, Dipper hears the muffled sound of a conversation. Or rather half of a conversation - whatever Stan did, Ford's voice isn't audible. He lifts his head away from the door, a little disappointed - but…
Well, he's already here. Why not?
He leans in again, listening. He only catches brief snatches of conversation, and still only half of it. The words he can hear are soft, and he has to concentrate to understand them through the muffling of the door.
"-no, not something unimportant-"
"Why would- No, you-"
"-told you, hundreds! How many other cities have-"
"No! Look at the news, oh wait, which you don't have there-"
There's a very loud bout of cursing, then Dipper hears the sudden shout clearly. "Well, our freakin' niece is cursed, and I sure as hell don't know what to do about it!"
There's a long, long silence.
Dipper bites his lip. Yeah. Mabel's cursed. But it's not a deadly curse. Not… over the short term. People can't sleep forever.
But. It's Dipper's. So he can reverse it, he can stop this. All he needs is to see how it's done, or wrangle the solution out of Bill. And he can do that too! He's learning how to handle the demon so well, it-
He can fix it. He will fix it.
The conversation continues, much more quietly. It takes a moment, but Dipper, hesitantly, listens in again.
"Anyone? Not-"
Another pause, not quite as long.
Stan lets out a long, hopeless sigh. "Just Dipper. And well… you know." And the tone on the last phrase is so quiet-
Dipper straightens up, takes a slow breath. He keeps his face calm, and composed. He walks, carefully, slowly, and quietly back to the table.
He takes a seat, and opens up another book.
The words are there, but he doesn't see them. He just stares. The book in his hands is shuddering, and Dipper steadies it by resting his arms on the table.
This curse is too powerful. It's got too many people in its grip. To break it they'll need the best, the absolute best, people like Great Uncle Ford. And that'll save Gravity Falls, and everyone will be fine, because they'll have the most powerful people, those who have great talents.
Not other people. People who can't, nine times out of ten, light a candle. Or someone who can't move water, air, or earth. Or lift an object. Even though they're really trying.
The pages crumple under his hands.
Not someone who's - 'you know'.
A failure.
The paper he's touching starts to smoke.
Dipper fumbles the book around, almost dropping it, and dashes over to the sink, slamming open the tap and running the book under the water. He curses softly to himself.
"What…exactly are you doing?" Stan asks, in confusion. And Dipper yelps, drawing back, clutching the soaked book to his chest. That was fast, that call must have ended almost the instant he stopped-
"Nothing! How did the contact go? How's Ford doing?" Dipper babbles, and pats at the pages of the book, returning to his seat and wiping what water he can off. There are a few scorch marks, but at least nothing soaked in. "Did he have any advice?"
Stan gives him an odd look, then shakes his head and shrugs. "Listen, Dipper… I gotta leave."
"What?"
"Turns out - well, there are a couple important things about whatever's going on here - " Stan says, crossing his arms and frowning. "First," He raises one finger. "This is really serious. Ford's coming here as soon as he can."
"So why are you leaving?" Dipper asks. He knows they've got issues, but for Stan to leave when Ford's coming here seems a little extreme-
"Second," Stan says, rolling his eyes and raising another finger. "He's in some kinda messed up place right now and needs some help dragging his nerdy butt back here," Stan shrugs dismissively, but there's just a tiny hint of smile on his face. "So guess who's doing that?"
"You are." Dipper answers. He finds himself smiling a bit as well. It's… hey, if Stan's happy, that's a good thing.
"So try not to sleep too much while I'm out," Stan continues, already heading upstairs. "Shouldn't be much of a problem for you, anyway." Hilarious. Because Dipper's never heard a joke about his insomnia before. Even when he still could sleep.
"Promise," Dipper smiles weakly, and gives Stan a small nod. "When do you think you'll be back?"
Stan takes a second to think on it, then shrugs. "If we're lucky, maybe three days? If not, maybe a week?" He shrugs. "Hard to tell, and honestly? I think my brother's a bit pessimistic about it." He snorts, grinning softly. "But I gotta get some stuff. Then, I'm outta here."
Eventually Stan is packed, ready, and standing in the door. Dipper watches, leaning against the wall. Though Stan casts a glance back over his shoulder, and his face is serious. "Just… be careful, alright?" He looks away and scratches the back of his neck. "We got no idea what's out there."
Dipper rolls his eyes. What's out there? It's him, not something dangerous. Nothing is going to happen. "I'm sure things are fine. Take care, too."
Stan shuts the door behind him - then it slams back open quickly, and he points a finger at Dipper. "And keep your creepy boyfriend outta my stuff!" He nods, once, then closes the door, taking off. Dipper looks around.
Where the hell is Bill, anyway? He's a dream demon, it's his magic, he should know all about the curse. He said he'd - he said he'd maybe help Dipper with what he's done. But Dipper knows that getting that help is going to be like pulling teeth. At best.
There's a soft hum near him. Dipper doesn't turn to look, there's only one other awake person in the Shack. Someone just as sleepless as he is.
"Hey Bill," Dipper waves idly. "So, we're getting a cursebreaker in, apparently," He shakes his head, but he can't help but smile a little. Ford's so cool. "My uncle Stanford."
There's a quiet, amused noise from where Bill's standing, and he hears the demon step up next to him. "Stanford Pines, huh?" Dipper glances at him. Bill's got an oddly serious, contemplative look on his face. "Interesting," He mutters, and taps a finger against his mouth.
Then his ever-present smile returns, and he turns to Dipper. "Aw. Stanley there says I'm creepy, huh? I'm devastatingly charming!"
Dipper can't help it, it's just so wrong. He snorts out a breath of laughter, then sterns his face quickly and shoves a fist over his mouth. "You're a megalomaniac demonic asshole." He grumbles. "Nobody finds that charming."
"I'm your 'boyfriend', aren't I? You gotta." Dipper punches Bill in the ribs. "Oh, I'm wounded," Bill continues, unperturbed, voice low with sarcasm. "Bury me… never, because noodly little arms can't destroy immortal beings who existed long before their ancestors had ancestors."
Dipper ignores that, and turns to face him. "Teach me how to break the spell."
Bill cocks his head.
"Thought you said they were bringing in a cursebreaker, sapling, Why are you worried? Things'll get fixed sooner or later, since this…" Bill breathes in slow, then sighs, dramatically. "Unfortunately… won't kill anyone. Probably. Good first try, though!" He smiles, and pats Dipper on the arm. "Maybe next time."
"There won't be a next time," Dipper insists, tense. "And-"
And if he can fix this, before the experts move in - before anyone steps in his way and says he can't, when he knows he can - people will see he's good at this now, he won't be -
You know.
He takes a slow steady breath, and glares at Bill. "This is mine. I should be the one to deal with it. Not anyone else."
Bill looks him over for several moments, smile gone, head still tilted to one side. Then he closes his eye, and nods slowly, approvingly. "Alright."
"Alright?" Dipper repeats, surprised. He looks around - no, just Bill and him, he can't see any traps. He looks back at Bill. "Not that I'm complaining, but I was expecting more of an argument." They almost always argue. This is a little weird. He narrows his eyes, suspicious. "What's the catch?"
"No catch! I like the way you're thinking!" Bill grins again. And his eye briefly flares blue. "This is yours to give, and yours to take away!" He blinks, and his eye goes gold again. "Stay possessive, kid. Let's get you some control over this. See what happens."
Dipper feels… worried. Wow, Bill's actually being helpful for once, that's- insane.
"Of course, you also suck at everything," Bill adds, completely unnecessarily.
Dipper relaxes.
"So maybe you can't do it! But hey," And here Bill leans in, and plants a wet kiss on Dipper's cheek. "Who am I to prevent my pet from trying to take what's rightfully his?"
"I'm not your pet," Dipper says reflexively, then starts, as Bill strides off confidently to another part of the Shack. He reluctantly follows, wiping his cheek with the back of one hand.
"So, have you ever broken a spell before?" Bill asks as they walk, then immediately adds, "Ha! Of course you haven't. You've got potential, sure! But about as much knowledge as a concussed kitten. We'll have to start with the basics."
Dipper stares blankly, watching Bill practically skip into the living room, and slump happily in the armchair. "You know, I think the real reason I hang around you is because of the flattery," He says, sarcastic. "You always say the nicest things."
Bill looks at him from his seat, smile turning very, very slightly fond for an instant. And he laughs. "Like I said! I'm charming." He adjusts himself in the seat slightly, then pats his lap. "Have a seat."
With a soft sigh, Dipper steps in to stand beside the chair. He doesn't move to sit. "Seriously?"
"I ain't messing with you, Pine Tree," Bill states. Dipper crosses his arms, and doesn't move. He's not falling for… whatever this is.
There's a quiet standoff, but… surprisingly, Bill's the first to relent. He casts his arms up in a 'fine, whatever' gesture.
"Look, kid, you wanna learn some new tricks. Aaaand I just might be a little bit limited in this realm-" He levels a dirty look at Dipper's sudden smirk. "Whatever, I gotta work through you to show off the stuff. And touching makes it easier." Bill opens his arms wide, then gestures back at his lap, looking moderately annoyed.
Dipper stays still for a moment, still unwilling, but… Bill's got a point. It does make sense that for Bill's currently restrained power to show up, he has to do something. Using Dipper as a channel for it meshes with what Dipper knows of magical theory.
Fuck it. There are worse things. It's not like Bill can hurt him, and he's definitely tried.
Dipper walks forward, turns around, and drops himself onto Bill's lap harder than he actually needs to. Bill grunts softly in pain. Dipper shifts, moving himself to lean over the arm of the chair, throwing his legs over the opposite. It's uncomfortable, and Bill's weirdly warm, but he's ready for anything the demon can throw at him.
He hopes.
Underneath him, Bill leans back, then takes up both of Dipper's hands in his. The smile is gone again, replaced with a look of concentration. "Hm," He tilts his head to both sides, looks up at Dipper, then nods, certain. "You are really damned uneducated."
Dipper fumes, and starts to get up. No point in wasting his time sitting here if Bill's only going to mess with him. "So what's the point of…."
Bill, still serious, pulls him in, keeping him in place. A surge of magic is- dragged, straight out Dipper's chest, through his arms - to where Bill's holding his wrists, it's strangely hot, but not burning. It's Bill, pulling his magic through Dipper and out from where they're touching.
Fine. Okay. He wasn't lying about the physical contact, but Dipper's still a little annoyed about the whole lap thing.
"Let's start- hm, I know," Bill grins at him, and makes Dipper cup his hands together, not quite touching. "With illusions!" He nudges Dipper with one shoulder. "You might not suck at it. You really love hiding things from people," Dipper looks away. Bill continues, either oblivious, or uncaring. "Let's give 'em something else to look for."
He drops one of Dipper's hands, and lifts his own. "Check this out! Nothing up my sleeve..." A quick gesture, and a dove appears in his hand, as detailed as a real one, right down to its cooing in distress. "Ta da!"
Bill chucks the bird away, and it flies rapidly - straight into the TV screen with a sudden cracking noise, where it falls down, dead. Its body bursts, exploding into a massive cloud of confetti and party streamers. They slowly dissolve as Bill stops powering their existence.
That... was disturbing. And weird, and oddly playful. So, much more like Dipper had thought this would go. He feels the magic curling around his hands, over his fingers, as Bill pulls his power through Dipper's own body. It's warm and kind of tingles, currently directionless, but he knows that if he really concentrated there - there would be a ton of fire, which couldn't hurt either of them, but could burn down the Shack if he's not really careful.
God, he's going to screw up trying this stuff. All the time. Bill expects it, probably. He'll think it's funny.
But Dipper will be damned if he lets Bill have that satisfaction. He's going to get things right, first try, before there's even a chance to taunt him.
"Hey," Bill draws a finger through the air, leaving a gold trail behind, drawing the outline of a triangle between them. He winks at Dipper through it "You wanna learn, or not?"
Dipper doesn't hesitate. He grabs Bill's hands with his own.
"Show me."
Stay Tuned People! That's all have to say!
