The somber crew of motley characters looming around the warmth of the fireplace ranged from a small boy- clinging to a stuffed elephant and muttering quietly to himself- to the eldest of the group (technically Mabel by a few minutes) who was untangling strands of her hair. Gideon sat on the floor beside Greg, expression unreadable and conflicted. Norman and Dipper sat shoulder-to-shoulder, holding hands while Dipper was still trying to wind down from his emotional episode.

"Where do you go when you die?" Greg asked the room, not looking away from the fire.

"It depends on what you believe, I guess," Gideon answered and lay flat on his back to stare at the shadows of fire grates dancing on the ceiling. "Some believe in fire and brimstone, like Hell or something like Heaven, others see it in the more Grecian sort of way as we all go to one place somewhere, then some believe in nothing."

"I don't think I want there to be nothing," Greg muttered to himself.

"Me either, kiddo," Norman chimed in, "Me either. All I can say is, from my experience, those that stick around can still be pretty happy- even if they don't ever leave."

"Can you come back as whatever you want?" Greg asked Norman, looking over the grey ears of the stuffed animal. "I think I would want to be an elephant."

"Not so far as I've seen, but who knows." Norman answered, "You may meet a spirit, but that means you only met one- they've all got different experiences."

"Is there anything we can do?" Gideon asked the room, looking around, tired of beating around the bush. "Surely, there's something?"

"QUETZ!" Greg suddenly screamed from the top of his lungs, nearly bursting the eardrums of those sitting around him.

"What are you doing?!" Norman hissed, cupping his ear.

"When the going gets tough-" Greg answered with a confident, toothy smile.

"I don't think you understand that phrase-" Gideon started to say, unable to hide the hint of amusement dancing in his features.

"You're right," Mabel huffed, "This is his mess too. He can help. QUETZ GET YOUR FEATHERY A-!"

A soft knock on the window caused them all to flinch in surprise, some (namely Gideon) with a screech.

"I would think it prudent, young lady, to refrain from finishing that sentence," Quetzalcoatl harrumphed, staring in the window. His voice was muffled by the glass, "For what reason have you summoned me, children?"

"So screaming at the sky does work," Mabel rolled her eyes, speaking more to herself than the others. She stepped forward and opened the window for the feathery serpent to slither in through the window. She closed it behind as Quetzalcoatl perked its head to eye level with the group.

"So, what would it take to be your puppet?" Greg asked.

Norman nearly choked trying to process what Greg had just said. All eyes shot to the youngest among them, his expression clear and unfaltering.

The plumed god seemed to stretch his neck, biding time, fighting the urge to be demeaning to the mortal child when he met his gaze. He was sitting within inches from his face, "If you mean vessel, boy, I merely need a fresh wound which weeps as a sign of your allegiance."

Dipper cleared his throat loudly to interrupt, confused. "We didn't have to do all that for Wybie and Tez, though."

A silence and shuffling of feet to step back from Greg were met by the feathered god's look of half-amused interest.

"Well. Actually," Norman pulled his mouth to the side in thought, crossing his arms, "Remember how we found Wybie? His leg was dragged by Xolotl's beast form and had to have cut his leg at least some, that was likely his blood sacrifice, whether he overtly asked for help or not. "

"Once the pact is made, only the contractor may sever it," Quetz muttered, eyeing Gideon with a purr in his voice. "Unless you fall under the particular circumstances by which you can use my half-brother's power to your advantage. Lucky mortal are ye, little Gideon."

Greg seemed to appear in the doorway, no one noticing his brief absence until the eyes of Quetzalcoatl were daggers upon him again- like a shark to the flesh of a future meal. Greg's hand bled onto the carpet, his blood slipping through the squeezing vice of his closed fist.

"Here I am, then." Greg's smile was grave and much too mature for his age, "I can help now."

"Greg!" Norman snapped, rushing to put the bottom of his shirt in the boy's palm to stop the bleeding. "You don't know what you're doing-"

"I am meant for this, Normie. I know I am," Greg's expression changed, his smile transforming to one that seemed genuine and warm. It scared Norman that he couldn't tell whether the hopeful expression was real or not. "Pull the strings, puppet man."

Quetzalcoatl seemed a cross between concerned and offended, "This is dangerous, young one, you may not survive. You are too young, too small, and perhaps not wise enough to be my vessel. I can, as you say, pull your strings whether you are alive or dead. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Wirt's family," Greg shrugged, "Wendy will be too. It's not safe 'til it's over. I was possessed before, in The Unknown, I can help."

"Greg, no," Dipper tried, searching for words to say but found none within reach. "Don't do this."

"I believe in him," Mabel said confidently, earning disapproving looks from Dipper and Norman, Gideon looked nearly impressed at Mabel opposing the others, "He's got this, guys. Trust me."

"He's my responsibility," Norman insisted, taking the edge of his shirt away, covered in blood, and offered a cleaner portion. His voice turned into an accusatory his as he looked down into Greg's eyes, "You are a child."

"I didn't ask your permission, Normie." Greg whispered, his voice sad. His eyes returned to that of the slatted eyes of the feathered serpent, "Now."

The plumed serpent bowed to the boy, "You are either brave or foolish... but your heart is of my kind, my subject, so I will take your sacrifice. I will end this, one way or another."

"See that you do," Gideon looked simultaneously amused and uncomfortable, "I quite enjoyed Gravity Falls being dull."

Had it been under other circumstances, the others may have laughed. The mood was thick with dread as the god-serpent put its maw against the cut in Greg's hand and seemed to evaporate into it. Greg wrenched to his knees in pain and cried out, his eyes seeming to bulge from their sockets as his irises turned sky blue and glowed fluorescent. His small body did not grow bigger, change, or his bones rearrange in any monstrous fashion; but as he laid prone on the floor shaking, his face began to take on the darkness and lankness of leagues of lifetimes beyond his own. His face began to slack and the young boy now looked with the eyes of a man- of a god- despite being a head or more shorter than the others in the room.

"Retrieve the others," echoed the voice that was not Greg's within his lungs and like reverb in the room. "Let the brother and his lover lie in safe harbor, we need only Coraline and the young Wyborn. My brother will surely follow. Retrieve them, I will prepare what needs to be done."

Before Norman could speak, the gaze from his cousin's glowing eyes stopped him in his tracks, his voice more like wind whistling through a cave than the high, merry voice of his cousin. "Do not object, go. There is nothing for you here. You would only be a hindrance. The boy is sleeping, he will remember naught."

"You're sure he won't remember?" Norman asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. His voice cracked as he spoke again, "He won't see anything you're doing?"

"Of course not," the voice stated with confidence.

Norman could see the tiniest flinch in the expression, it was a lie, Quetzacoatl could not guarantee Greg's memory of the event would not come out unscathed.

Norman swallowed thickly and tried to ignore his doubt, digging his shoe into the carpet, eyes pointedly avoiding the blood dripped upon the carpet. "Take care of him. Please."

"Go," the distant voice repeated.

Norman walked to meet his friends in the kitchen, gathering their things to take the van. He spared one last look at Greg before they made their way to the van. The child stood like a pillar in the living room, looking much too big for the rest of the room, an overwhelming presence despite no real physical changes. It was easy enough, without those in the car a part of the fray. However, they each felt ill and were unnerved by stress.

"It could be worse-" Dipper started.

Mabel gave him a look so cross he shut his mouth immediately, her lip snarling, "Shut up, Dipper."

Dipper cleared his throat and looked to his feet, wringing his hands. Norman exhaled sharply, venturing on towards the hospital, and followed the road signs. He knew Dipper meant well, but if Dipper said anything else like that he would be forced to attempt to flatten his face on the asphalt. This would, clearly, not bode well for their budding relationship. So, Dipper and Norman were both in luck since the van became as silent as the grave.

They arrive at the front desk of the hospital together where an older woman has a telephone pressed to her ear. She puts up a finger for them to wait a moment. Once she completes the call, she takes the sight of all the kids in and gets a half-smile, "Which one are you kids here for? The boy or Ms. Courderoy?"

"How did you-" Norman began to ask, before Gideon laughed behind him.

"Small town, remember?" Gideon supplied from the back of the group.

The woman nodded at Gideon with no sign of malice, "Gideon Gleeful, nice to see you out and about."

"It's Garrett again, Ms. Miriam." Gideon corrected.

"I forget," she shrugged, "You know us old folks, tell us once you might as well tell us a hundred more times. Anyhow, those two were the only ones checked in today. We've been pretty slow, surprisingly."

"I guess no one has been taking chances with that thing on the loose, can't say I blame 'em." Mabel sighed to herself then returned her attention to the woman, "Which way is Wybie's room?"

"Wyborn Lovatt," Dipper corrected.

"Second floor, room 214." the woman answered, patting Gideon on the shoulder as he passed to stop him.

The others walked on, not noticing his absence.

The woman, Miriam, gave him a kind look, "I might be needing some help around the house and the yard, a little bird told me you might be available."

"A little more than available, I'm afraid, I've been evicted." Gideon laughed, but his expression betrayed his discomfort.

"Well, I can't pay much, but I would be glad to help- not for nothing of course," the woman smiled haughtily, "You know me, though, I'm no slave driver."

"My memory of 4th grade seems to be different than yours." Gideon squinted at her in mock distrust but glanced up to see the group waiting by the elevators, watching the two of them and waving him on. "I'll be sure to contact you."

"Take your time, just be sure you go back to school, at least finish what's left. Do homeschooling if you have to-" Gideon waved at her dismissively as he walked away. She raised her voice to call after him, "I mean it!"

After she had gone she muttered fondly under her breath, "Once a brat, always a brat. Now, where is that Pollos de Guerra coupon..."

The group went up to the hospital room to find Wybie flipping through cable channels with a groggy expression while Coraline bounced between fussing over him, criticizing what was on the hospital tv stations, and organizing the room. The room was small, not too much bigger than a public restroom, but the room felt smaller with all of them packed into the room's entry space.

"I assume you have news," Coraline huffed, stopping was she was doing only to give a look of dismay before rearranging the surplus medical supplies in the far corner by type.

"Are you always this high strung or is it just the apocalypse scenario?" Mabel half-joked in a serious tone in hopes to lighten the mood but stopped when Coraline gave her a steely and disgruntled frown. "Right, sorry."

Dipper gave her a knowing look, as though he was surprised she made the exact error he did not even twenty minutes earlier in the van. Mabel rolled her eyes at him, looking away. Gideon skirted outside the door. Norman stepped forward, all business.

"Long story short, Greg is possessed by that dragon-god-thing now and we need snake boy back," Norman put forth oh-so tactfully.

"Love that for me," Wybie sighed, stretching his arms. "I wonder if everything would be healed enough."

"Let him sleep some more," Dipper offered, "at least until we get back. You can sleep in the car."

"What about being discharged from the hospital?" Wybie asked, "I doubt they'll just let me walk out of here."

"Have they done any tests or x-rays yet?" Dipper asked.

"Yeah, just some cracked ribs and bruises," Coraline answered for him. "Why?"

"They'll heal on their own, just get some pain meds and we can go."

"What if the cracks turn into fractures?" Wybie asked, "I won't be much use then."

"We gotta chance it, I'm sorry Wy," Dipper shrugged. "We'll all be there with you, but Greg needs you too. We can't let him face this alone."

"He isn't alone, on his own maybe but-" Mabel butted in, only to be silenced by a look from Norman.

Norman nearly tore Wybie from the bed, hands shaking, "Semantics. Come on, let's get on with this."

After a half-hour of simultaneous arguing, dealing with paperwork, and the nonstop onslaught of hospital staff asking the teens to be safe and not do anything rash- especially since they were already leaving a hospital (in a move already trying to be persuaded against but was failing).

Eventually, they piled in the van, Wybie took the advice to sleep in the back seat, head in Coraline's lap as she nervously played with his hair. The drive was not long, it had taken mere moments in the van for Wybie to fall asleep, somewhere halfway between being comforted by Coraline and being overall exhausted from the emotional strain and being unable to check in with his grandmother. Coraline could feel herself biting hard on her back teeth, an anxious habit. Wybie was asleep as his curls were toiled with.

Gideon watched outside the window as though an amused teen brought along on a family road trip. Mabel watched her hands as she clenched and unclenched her fists in her lap, debating whether or not to try praying to the god her parents seemed to at least hold some stock in. Norman and Dipper, who sat in the front, were the only ones talking.

"Everything is going to be okay," Dipper soothed half-heartedly, not comfortable enough to grab Norman's hand for reassurance.

Norman's knuckles were white upon the steering wheel, the muscles in his jaw flexing as his eyes seemed to be churning with dark thoughts. He hazarded to voice one aloud, "What if Xolotl wins? What happens then? The end of everything? From what I know about him, it, whatever, Bill seems unlikely to be the type to end things quickly."

"Probably not," Dipper admitted, "But we have to believe everything will work out. We're putting up a fight. Can't give up before we've started or we've already lost."

"You're right," Norman exhaled a shaky breath and actually smiled, looking at Dipper for a moment before looking back at the road and nodding his head. "You're exactly right. We can do this. All of us. I know we can."

The sight that met them when they arrived would have given any neighbors a heart attack (had there been any close enough to see). Greg, just a hair over 4-foot-5-inches, was fighting a monstrous thing resembling a wolf twice his size. A cut on Greg's head had blood running down his face and sticking his hair fast to his forehead. His fists were bloodied but perhaps only skinned, teeth bared and running much faster than anyone could on such short legs, he evaded and fought the lumbering attacks of the fanged god-beast.

The change in Wybie was such as the flick of a switch, a deep and angry hiss rumbling in his throat as Tezcatlipoca unleashed himself within, running on all fours as though still a feline predator. It would have been a nearly humorous sight, if Xolotl had not swept just a little faster than Tezcatlipoca had expected, earning a deep horizontal gash on his cheek. The soft and dangerous purr that emitted then from Wybie's body gave the entire group a very strong sense of foreboding and gooseflesh, that sounded like the signing of a death warrant if they ever heard one.

In horror, the group watches as silent as the grave. The grass was quickly becoming spattered with blood. Without realizing it, each person in the group (Coraline, Mabel, Dipper, Norman, and Gideon) was holding on to the person next to them whether a hand or the materials of their shirt they clung to each other in the quietest desperation and hope that everything would somehow be okay.

After a particularly close evasion by Greg, Norman held in a whimper and closed his eyes and hoped beyond hope he wouldn't have to tell his cousin what he had let Greg sign up for and that it was his fault if his cousin didn't make it out of this alive.

While Quetzacoatl was clearly the more powerful of the duo, Tez was clearly the more seasoned warrior. It was at the intensity of an all-out brawl when between the blink of an eye, Greg and Wybie's bodies were cast aside in the middle of the battlefield.

The four of them bounded forward without a word or thought between them and pulled the unconscious bodies of their friends out of harm's way. They edged to the street, suddenly feeling even more isolated in normal as they all scattered the sidewalk and just watched that lay before them.

The giant feather serpent (much larger than the one they had grown somewhat used to), a black jaguar nearly matched in size and speed with Xolotl's hound-beast form- all blackish-pink skin taut across a large form and teeth impossibly large and sharp, something only narrowly evaded thus far by the others.

A loud roar erupts from the throat of Xolotl, eager to finish their struggle so he may proceed with his plan. It is at this point that the group loses sight of anything, the sheer power scorching the grass, growls shaking the ground, a bright surge of pure energy enveloping the field in white. Like a harsh blizzard, the air went deathly cold, and the space in front of them was such a lifeless, white void that there was no hope to see what was going on ahead.

Though filled with extreme dread and discomfort, the troupe hovered over their wounded protectively. Their teen eyes and faces looked much too somber and old for their age. With something somewhere between sloppiness of inexperience and precision within the execution of concept- Dipper and Mabel checked the wounded bodies of Wybie and Greg for serious abrasions, cuts, breaks, at last, the two became brave enough to check breathing and pulse. Both had shallow, jagged breaths but they were happy for even such a small victory. Cuts and blood galore, but nothing to prove fatal.

As they sat for what felt like hours, the seemingly endless white void of power pulsed around them and felt like an earthquake with every blow between them. In the void, they could hear each make howling sounds of pain, of anger, of excitement. The primal behavior surely going on out of their sight terrified them.

Coraline distinctly remembered in this moment of unease, practicing active shooter drills when she was young, every practice feeling so real- every sound uttered from her or every scuffle of foot was a harbinger of her own death. This is what she remembered, the others too, in their own ways and differing memories, the feeling of foreboding of not making it out of this alive.

Wybie was the first to regain consciousness against her lap, grasping for Coraline with desperation. Wybie hugged her tightly, his words of relief and fear incoherent among the noise and confusion. Coraline hugged back just as tightly, muttering assurances, trying to take measured breaths, closing her eyes to remember his smell in case it was the last time she had the chance.

Norman was holding an unconscious Greg in his lap, the boy's head lolled back against his chest as he hugged him from behind. Norman's eyes peering sightlessly forward as he ran through every scenario he could in his head- the ones they all made it out, the ones where they all died, the ones where some of the others didn't make it, the ones where Greg didn't make it, the ones where he never got to say goodbye to Dipper or anyone he cared about. Eyes still fixed on some unseen point, his grip tightened on his young cousin, lip quivering in anticipation of tears that would not shed.

Mabel and Dipper seemed in a world their own, unspoken apologies between them as they held hands, tiny tremors betraying their uncertainty. They looked into the void unflinchingly and seemed fixated on the memory of Bill Cipher, maybe in name only now, on the other side of the chasm of suffocating white nothingness. Xolotl, their new name for old wounds, was on the other side of that fog- with his chances of succeeding even higher than the last time.

Gideon sat by himself, knees hugged to his chest and eyes closed- -a scared child waiting for it all to end come Hell or high water. His thoughts were empty with nothing but white-hot fear.

Suddenly, a shadow seemed to appear from nowhere, descended from the heavens, and the whiteness seemed to blur the surroundings around the figure- as though its power surpassed the other three by leagues. The deafening shaking of the earth, of burning, of sounds of war, ceased in an instant.

A naked figure, with dark hair and even darker eyes, looked eerily like a human woman- but the energy that rolled off her in waves gave way to any doubt that she was anything but. This figure passed them without a glance, the teens were only able to watch her bare back as she proceeded into the fray. Though there was no wind, her long hair swirled about her like she was going much faster than her leisurely pace. Her grace was of someone strolling through a meadow, or dancing ballet, taking their time, not the walk one of sauntering onto a battlefield. The white void cleared to show the scene in full. The fighting stopped- like the entire universe stopped to take a breath- her hands reached out between both sides with her palms facing the gods on each side in beckoning. Her head rolled back to look up at the three of them before her hands turned palms down within a second's blink.

Her voice was like an avalanche echoing endlessly on a quiet mountainside- her calm voice whispered something that the others could not understand, furthermore with no such urgency. The look of shock on the three gods' faces was evident enough of the words' impact. There was a swell of power in the air and a flash of black light, the gods disappeared within a blink of an eye. Looking about, Tezzy, returned to the form of a small snake curled up on the ground.

Seeing the others gone, everyone cautiously made their way to his relaxed form in the grass. Norman carried Greg on his back, who if not for the blood, looked to be peacefully sleeping. Coraline supported Wybie with her arm, Gideon on the other side.

"She has ended it, once and for all, I should think," the snake said to no one in particular. "We're barred from returning to this realm again."

"Who was she?" Mabel asked, falling to her knees in sheer exhaustion and relief.

"Mother," he answered, looking above to the sky. "She does not appreciate the messing about with humans. She says the times of gods have ended. I'm inclined to agree... so I will be returning. You will not see us again."

"What do you mean?" Mabel snapped, more from the irritability of tiredness than anything else.

"Gods create life from nothing, but after the time for gods pass... to nothingness we must return." There was a breathy, almost-human sigh of relief, "We have tired of humans... since not long after their creation, in fact. We shall be glad to be rid of them."

"So what happens to us? All of us?"

"Nothing. You persist, as humans are prone to do." He laughs mirthfully, "We may just be the last of the old gods, biding our time in the futile hope of returning to power. It seems mysticism may never come into fashion again. More importantly, do you wish to keep your gift, Miss Coraline? You may keep it if you wish, we may cease to exist... but it will still be a connection to our ancient wisdom."

"No thanks, honestly." Coraline frowned, crossing her arms. "I just wanna forget this whole thing ever happened."

"Very well," Tezzy smiled, using his snake body to slither up her legs and torso.

Coraline tried very valiantly to not flinch or look terrified, her skin turning even paler as Tez used his snake tongue to hiss upon her eyes, taking the Sight away and her eyes returning to normal. Once he reached the ground he made a gagging sound and a white ball the size of a golf ball spit from his unhinged mouth, it looked like a swirling and milky constellation within.

"Call it a failsafe," he whispered conspiratorially. "Should you ever feel you need your Sight, you may look deep into this sphere and see. This is of no danger to you, Coraline, only the fear of knowing could be."

Coraline grunted at this, taking the glass-like ball and putting it in her pocket, eyes distant and uncomfortable. Wybie was not even given a goodbye as the god-snake disappeared, and Wybie's connection to said god with it. Greg's eyes strained open, rubbing the blood from his face with his hand, and looked around with tired interest.

Those possessed now felt like empty husks, those who weren't felt a different sort of emptiness. An anticlimax. It was all over. All the deaths in town, the suffering, the worrying, the near-misses, for this. A half-scorched yard stained with blood and some worn-thin teenagers who only wanted to be heroes to someone.

A.N.

... okay I lied, ONE more chapter after this.

I am genuinely sorry this story is taking as long as it is to finish, I have had a lot of awful personal stuff going on (including but not limited to deaths in my family, COVID, being a caretaker for a family member, working full time) and with the huge drop-off of readership as time went on, I had less and less motivation to finish. For this, I am truly sorry to those who really enjoyed the journey thus far.

I may write them completely and finish them before posting, I don't want it to end up taking forever like this one did. We'll see.

Thanks to those who stuck around,

With love, deathbyinsomnia