"Oh my gosh, Dipper! What happened to you?!"
Mabel gasped and bent down to her brother, who was unconscious and lying on the porch, naked save for a gold satin blanket wrapped loosely around his body.
"Yeah kid," Stan began as he walked down the stairs, "you were gone when I went to wake you up. You had me worried sick-"
Stan stopped dead in his tracks when he rounded the front door and caught sight of Dipper.
"Wh- What happened to him..." He said quietly, staring down at the boy lying limp in his sister's arms.
Mabel was at loss for words. She knew what happened. And she knew who did it.
Tears began streaming down Mabel's cheeks. She never thought he'd take it this far.
Stan knelt down beside Mabel, who was now sobbing uncontrollably, and gently checked Dipper for a pulse.
Much to his relief, there was one, though it was faint.
"He's alive, just... hurt. We're gonna take him to the hospital, okay sweetie?"
Mabel sniffled, then nodded without taking her eyes off Dipper.
"I'm gonna go get him something to cover up with. I'll be right back," Stan said, trotting up the stairs to retrieve clothes from the attic.
Soon Dipper was somewhat dressed, in the backseat of the car, and still unconscious. He was laid down across Mabel's lap, breathing softly against her sweater.
She stroked his long bangs out of his face, taking in the damage done. A black eye, a split lip, a bleeding ear.
"Mabel, honey..." Stan said softly, looking back at her through the rearview mirror, "do you have any idea who could've done this?"
Well, it was obvious. No one else seemed to have an insane obsession over Dipper, and the brick pattern on the blanket only furthered her point.
"It was Bill," she replied, still staring down at her brother's pale face.
Stan was taken aback by her answer. Bill? Why would he do such a thing?
He forgot he was driving and had to swerve in order to stay on the road.
Bill was crazy, that was certain. He was evil and maniacal, eager to cause others pain and enjoy doing so.
But he never thought he'd be one to take it to this level. A sexual level. It wasn't normal of him.
Stan gripped the steering wheel tight in anger. As soon as he saw that disgusting tortilla chip he'd beat him to a pulp.
He had to have made a physical form in order to do this to Dipper. And when I find it I'm going to beat it out of existence.
"Grunkle Stan," Mabel said quietly, interrupting Stan's thoughts of violent, plotted revenge.
"What are we going to say when they ask what happened? They surely won't believe us if we say an obsessed dream demon took him out to the woods and did this to him."
That's a fair point, Stan thought.
"We can just say he left the night before and didn't come back, and that we have no idea who did this to him. After all, we don't need anyone to figure out who did it, since we already know, we just need someone to fix him up."
"Ok..." Mabel sighed.
Stan glanced back at her. She was utterly crushed, depressed about the ordeal.
"Hey, it's gonna be okay sweetie. He'll be fine," Stan said reassuringly. He offered her a smile through the rearview mirror, and she returned it weakly.
It's all gonna be okay, Dipper. We'll get him back for what he did.
With that she kissed his forehead gently, and held her brother close for the rest of the ride.
