His greatest invention and, might he say, a masterpiece. One that had gotten all but one of his enemies to crack. And that included him.

The prison bubble.

Technically, he knew all of the things in here weren't real. All of his family was dead, by his own hand even. The fields he and his old friends had played in were burned to unrecognizable nothingness, together with the whole dimension.

Then why was he sitting here?

The scenery of all his old friends, dead for trillions of years, hadn't changed at all from what he remembered. Playing games of ٪^#/(

or something else Bill had long forgotten the rules of (which was nonsensical, in his opinion. He was all knowing, omnipotent, but he didn't remember this? ). On the other hand, when had Bill ever cared for rules? Not in a long time.

Damnit, he shouldn't be thinking about this. Not about them. He had promised himself never to think about this, to forget about this. Forget about his name and his siblings and his parents and his dimension and his friends and everything -

His brother (the illusion of his brother. He was dead and gone for good and of axolotl why did he have to look this real?-) was sitting next to him, chewing something their ( absolutelynotreal) uncle gave to him before they left. A small mercy, he was (had, it's had been, past tense) not exactly nice.

They're all dead. It's all in your head. They're not real-

They could be real, they could all be alive and well. You don't need to have their blood on your hands, now that you're here-

"Nonsense, of course they're all dead. I set them on fire."

"We don't need to be."

The voice of his brother surprised him. It was both calm and light, carried gently by the small breeze that passed by. Exactly how he remembered it.

How he remembered it. It isn't real, this wasn't Bills brother, the bubble just didn't want him to leave, is all. The demon stood up.

"You screamed the loudest."

"How do you know we aren't real? Why do you want us to be dead this desperately? You want us back, or else you wouldn't be here, ya know? For all you know, you could be dead. The Pines twins killed you and you're stuck here, with us."

Bill left.

"You can't run from your problems forever. Time stops for no one. And eventually, it's gonna get you, too. "

Going up the hill was a bad decision. Actually, it wasn't even a decision. He just wanted to run from leave the illusion of his brother behind.

Back on track. Bad idea. Bad brain. Because if he had thought a bit sooner, Bill might have considered that there, up the hill, was his house.

"Hi sweetheart."

He turned towards the door. Wide open to show Bill his mother, leaning in the doorway. A golden demon, just like Bill was. He had gotten that from her, at least. (She's not real, wake up, get out of here)

"Mother, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, dear."

"What's your name?" Bill knew why he was asking this. He shouldn't want her to answer. Shouldn't even entertain the idea that whatever this was could ever be real. It wouldn't be real ever again. Silence filled the scene.

"Don't be ridiculous %÷€ ^#£$", you know my name."

"Let's pretend I don't. Mother, what's your name?"

Silence reigned again. He knew it. Bill was a fool for even trying. The prison bubble could only show him things he knew and could imagine. It could not show him things he didn't know. And Bill had forgotten his mothers name 3000 years ago. She did answer him, though:

"You will not get out of here. You designed this so perfectly you knew you yourself couldn't get out."

He knew this, of course. Only one brilliant mind could trap Bill Cipher. And that was the dream demon himself.

Sometimes, Bill really hated his brain. Granted, how was he supposed he'd end up here as soon as he changed the summoning spell? This wasn't fair.

"Happy Birthday."

His mother gave his brother a kiss on the cheek. A rare occurance of affection -demons just didn't do that- but even she could let that slide once in a while. It was his 200 birthday. Longer than any human life could ever last, but young for a demon.

As he and his brother played outside, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he forgot something. Something important. (Get out of here)

If he didn't remember it, it mustn't have been that bad.

His brilliant illusion was shattered when a man walked up to his house. Someone that, finally, didn't fit into the scenery.

His first friend after his dimension burnt down. Nowhere to go, everyone dead. And then this man came along. He might have been one of the only people the dream demon ever truly liked.

Etah Farley died before %÷€^#£$, even came up with the name Bill Cipher. And that shattered everything.

Something so not fitting into this pulled Bill out of his trance. And he began asking himself how he even began melting into it in the first place. Everything that should have been the height of a child was now the height of a young adult. Everything that was supposed to fit felt wrong somehow.

Perhaps this was why he burned it down? Everything here felt so peaceful and at ease. Like everything was where it was meant to be. It was exactly how he remembered it.

It wasn't the place that was wrong. It was an exact replica of his home trillions of years ago. The thing that didn't fit in here was him. Bill found it unbelievable that he had fit in here once. The whole thing was like a puzzle, and everybody had his peace. The thing is: time and insanity had shredded his to pieces, ritten and never to be mended again.

"It's time you got out of here, don't you think?"

He wouldn't ask.

Fuck it, he would ask, weakness was allowed only this once.

"What if I don't want to leave?"

A ridiculous question, really. He wouldn't convince himself to fit in here twice. Probably.

"It's time to move on, Bill."

Turns out, he didn't even need to wait for long. A familiar tugging pulled him into the mindscape, even more familiar chanting preparing him for a rough landing.

Being drawn into another dimension was horrible. But Bill had never had the problem of being disoriented before. He was now.

Before him stood a very familiar man (impossible) and his even more familiar Pine Tree hat. The boy must have been about 19. How long had Bill been gone for?

"I need to make a deal."