On the night of the 150th Northwest Fest, Pacifica entered the taxidermy room armed with a silver mirror, a borrowed journal, and a conspicuous lack of Dipper Pines.

She had been about to knock on the door, trying desperately not to imagine how things would go horribly wrong this time, when it hit her: She had the Journal. She had seen Dipper capture the ghost, and she knew what it wanted.

She didn't need him. He didn't need to get involved.

And so, after concocting a cover story to keep her parents off her back, our unlikely hero turned to go home for her first (and hopefully only) solo ghost hunt.

That was when she heard laughter. A quick look through the window confirmed her suspicions: that insufferable little weirdo, Candy, was telling Dipper a joke, and he was laughing at it.

He had laughed like that with her, once.

"It's not fair." She complained to herself as she prepped her trap. "What has she got that I don't? Bad eyesight? Forks on her fingers? Nerd trivia?"

She didn't bully his sister, for one thing.

"That was a rhetorical question!" Shaking herself, Pacifica tried to focus on the task at hand, but she couldn't get the image of Dipper and Candy out of her head. She imagined that they were laughing at their mutual enemy, a stuck up, bratty blonde who was so spoiled she didn't even know what sharing meant.

"Why does that hurt so much? Why do I care what he thinks of me?"

"Ancient Sins….Ancient Sins…"

The eerie droning of the possessed deer heads jolted Pacifica back to the present. Just as before, the fire grew to an inferno, and a disturbingly detailed human skeleton dragged itself out of the blaze, ghostly flesh slowly materializing as it stood up until it became the spitting image of the man in the painting.

This time though, Pacifica was ready. The second the ghost lunged at her, she braced herself and thrusted the silver mirror forward. With a flash of light and a concussive force that knocked Pacifica a good foot backward, the ghost vanished.

"NO!" Archibald bellowed, his volume a great deal lesser now that he was trapped in a vanity item. "Let me out! I didn't even finish my entrance!"

Cautiously, Pacifica retrieved the mirror, wrapping her hand in her dress because hello, the ghost was on fire.

"You!" The lumberjack snarled as he saw Pacifica. "Release me Northwest! Release me that I may tear you limb from limb!"

"Wow, tempting." Pacifica drawled in full on valley girl mode. "Counteroffer, I open the gates, and you go away."

"LIES!" Archibald roared. "All your family ever does is lie! I'd sooner be destroyed then trust one of your blood!"

"I'm not my family." Pacifica snapped as she pulled out the journal. "But fine, have it your way. Spookus, scarus, aintafraidofnoghostus-"

"Fine!" Archibald interrupted. "We'll call a truce, but you had better keep your word." He paused. "Can I get a little bit of revenge first?"

"Well, I do need a distraction…"

"Come back here spook! That commemorative Art Bigotti plate is priceless!"

"This is humiliating." Archibald thought as he led Preston through yet another pointlessly ornate hallway. The girl had made him swear not to harm anyone through magic or otherwise, so he was stuck pulling pranks like a lowly category 2. "Well, revenge is revenge I suppose."

"No! Not the lace curtains, you'll get ectoplasm all over them!"

"Here we go." Pacifica gripped the lever, hand trembling. This was it, all she had to do was open the gates to the townspeople and the nightmare would be over.

But, did she have to?

Not for the first time, Pacifica remembered that she had a time machine and the foreknowledge to use it. She could just go back, exorcise the ghost instead of bargaining with it, and go on with her life. The party wouldn't be ruined, the guests and Dipper would be safe, and her parents wouldn't disown her...or worse.

"Why are you so afraid of your parents?" Dipper's voice rang in her head.

"I don't have to be," She replied, "I can be better than them."

"Attention everyone!" Pacifica shouted in her practiced speech voice, tapping a spoon on a glass to get the guests' attention. "150 years ago today, the lumber….people of this town built this mansion for my great grandfather. In return, they were promised invitations to the Northwest's grand annual ball. This promise has still not been fulfilled."

"Pacifica!" Preston and his trophy wife burst into the ballroom, clothes torn and covered in what looked to be vintage wine. "What the devil are you doing?"

"It's not too late." Pacifica reminded herself.

"Today, I'm going to right that wrong." She continued, raising her glass. "I propose a toast, to Gravity Falls!"

*Clank!* *whirrrr*

"Thank you, Pacifica Northwest." Archibald whispered as he faded. "Thank you."

*SMASH!*

"My plate!"

Pacifica stood by the appetizer table, taking in the chaos, the wonderful, non wooden, living chaos. She had done it. Sure, her parents still had murder in her eyes, and McGucket kept trying to take down the tapestries, but everyone was alive, and Pacifica Elise Northwest had saved them. More importantly, she had proven, once and for all, that she was more than another link in the world's worst chain.

"Not too bad for a walking stereotype." She imagined Mabel would say.

As she reached for another canape', she noticed what she was standing on: a section of the silver white carpet she had so vehemently protected earlier.

She was on the carpet.

And her shoes were filthy.

Giggling, she gave the floor an experimental kick. If Dipper were here, she thought, he would go all out, dumping everything he could find on this stupid rug. He would gladly waste all of this food, just to stick it to her parents.

"There I go again!" She scolded herself as her mind once again wandered to the Pines boy.. "Why do I actually miss that dork?"

"Because he doesn't believe in just anyone the way Mabel does, but he believed in me." She answered herself. "He saw me at my worst, and he still believed I could change. Because he's the only one who can keep up with my sarcasm, and the only one who isn't afraid to tell me the truth. If things had gone differently, maybe we could have been friends."

Maybe she could invite him to the party. That wouldn't be weird, right? Everyone else was here, plus he'd love to ramble on about the ghost for hours.. Yeah! That would work.

Before she could hesitate a moment longer, she walked away from the ruined carpet, past a very confused McGucket, and out the door.

"I don't understand." McGucket muttered as he refreshed the portal tracker program a third time. "Why would it just shut off?"

Of all the things Pacifica had expected to see at the Mystery Shack, this wasn't it.

A fire truck, an ambulance and Gravity Falls' only cop car were all parked on the front lawn, along with several government issued Humvees. The Shack's two employees were holding each other and sobbing, and Stan?

Stan was being dragged into a paddywagon by two familiar looking feds, screaming his throat raw.

"NO! No, let me go- have to save him! I have to SAVE HIM! That machine won't take him too!"

"Sir, I'm sorry, he's already gone."

"NO!" Stan punched the agent in the face, only to be tackled by three more. "He's not dead, he can't be! I CAN'T LOSE ANY MORE FAMILY!"

"No." Pacifica ran forward, dodging paramedics and men in black, heading for a stretcher in the middle of the scene. She could already hear snippets of the conversation:

("Massive frostbite damage, consistent with liquid nitrogen. Why would an old con-man like this even have that?"

"That information is above your pay grade. Hey Jeff, what are we gonna do about the fat guy? He's seen way too much."

"Poor kid, didn't even have his first kiss yet.")

"Nonononononono."

Pacifica pushed past the guards and made it to the stretcher.

"No."

She looked down.

"NO!"

On the stretcher, pale as death, covered in a ghastly human version of freezer burn, and with his limbs locked into that horrible pose of sheer terror, was Dipper.

AN:

WHAT, YOU THOUGHT THAT WAS THE HAPPY ENDING? NAH, POOR LLAMA'S STILL GOT LOTS OF AWFUL THINGS TO SEE.

LOTS OF THINGS

I figured that Stan would probably check the portal while Dipper was out busting ghosts. Of course, today had to be the day he left the vending machine ajar. Since Dipper stayed at home in this timeline, he found the lab, tried to shut down the portal, and promptly got doused with a gallon of supercooled nitrogen. That's Karma for you.

I know it's a bit contrived, but in a world where the laws of physics can conspire to ruin your date, I figure this isn't too far fetched.