Preston Northwest was not looking well. He'd dressed back into one of the few suits he'd held onto, but in addition to not having been cleaned in years it was also smudged with dirt and had numerous leaves stuck to it. His eyes were saggy and bloodshot and his mouth was still spattered with cheap takeout.
"Pacifica," he said with an odd, stuttering mix of anger and nervousness, "Get your things, you're coming with me and you're not seeing these commoners again."
The Northwest girl was scared and a little bit saddened by this sight, and found herself unable to move until her father took a threatening step towards her, at which she stepped back.
The next series of events happened so quickly they barely registered to Mabel: First, Preston snapped forward to grab Pacifica by the wrist, and when she wrenched herself from his grip his hand lashed out with horrible speed and slapped her with enough force to knock her off her feat.
Before Pacifica had even hit the floor though, a cry of anger filled the air and Dipper Pines practically flew around the corner and slammed into the Northwest family head fist first. The teenage boy had struck hard enough on impact to draw blood from the nose.
Stumbling backwards, Preston flailed his arms about seemingly at random, but struck with purpose as soon as they found purchase on a large clam that had googly eyes glued to it, sitting on a shelf to work as a tourist attraction, and he rapidly smashed it down on Dipper's skull. The younger man had been hit with the edge of the preserved sealife, and felt a narrow gash trickle blood where it scraped his scalp. "You will not drag my daughter to your level!" The adult man screamed during his assault.
Luckily, the two girls in the room where already in action. Pacifica and Mabel moved with surprising coordination given their current hostility, but in one move Mabel had jumped behind Preston and knelt down behind his knees while Pacifica charged forward and shoved her father backwards, causing him to trip backwards over the Pines twin and land on a glass coffee table, which shattered on impact.
Further fighting was interrupted by heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. "Alright, I can tolerate overemotional family arguments (god knows this place has seen a lot of that) but I draw the line at breaking the merchandise!" Shouted Grunkle Stan, who was entering the room in his casual outfit, slipping on brass knuckles. When he reached the bottom floor though and saw the whole situation, his eyes narrowed and his voice gained a rare tone of seriousness. "Alright rich boy, you have five seconds to get out of this building, or else you'll be waking up tomorrow in an ice bath with two lower back scars."
Preston was climbing to his feet when he heard the threat, glass cracking and localized smears of blood getting on the floor as he straightened out his lacerated back, staring down the five (Soos had run into the room and was trying to strike a cool pose) people opposing him, and with a seemingly desperate look in his eyes, spoke to his daughter one last time. "Pacifica, now! We. are. LEAVING!"
When she refused to budge from her spot next to Dipper, Preston retreated wordlessly, glaring dagger all the while and pushing a jar of eyeball themed super bouncers off the counter as he exited the building.
Everyone in the room had tension visibly leave their shoulders when the door slammed shut, and they all began fussing over Dipper's head wound, as now trails of blood were dripping over his constellation birthmark.
Once bandages had been applied to the head and the boy insisted for the hundredth time that he's taken scrapes worse then this out in the forest, attention turned to Pacifica Northwest, who had found a corner to sit in with a downcast expression.
Dipper stepped over to her, really not sure how to open this conversation. Luckily, she did it for him. "I'm sorry Dipper."
"You have nothing to apologize for." He responded
"Yes I do!" Pacifica yelled back. "You got hurt just for being around me, and who knows what will happen if dad comes back!" Then, she got quiet and looked down at the floor. "I should just give myself up to him. It'll keep you all out of trouble at least."
"No way girlfriend!" Mabel cut in, her argument with Pacifica earlier seemingly forgotten. "Your dad looked like he'd gone completely nuts, no way you're going back to him!" Then, her fiery spirit cooled and she asked softly "How long has he been like that?"
"I... I honestly can't say." Pacifica responded. "He's been angry and short tempered ever since we sold the mansion, and over the years spends more and more time locked up in his office trying to rebuild our fortune. We rarely see each other and when we do it's so he can hit me for "muddying the Northwest name", as if that's possible." A moment after speaking this, Pacifica's eyes widened as she realized what she'd said.
"Your parents have been beating you!?" Dipper screamed in anger and fear while Mabel simply covered her mouth while gasping in shock. Then, his tone softened and he asked, "Why didn't you tell us Pacifica? We would have helped you."
"Because I knew you'd blame yourself." Pacifica said resignedly. "You always do Dipper. If something bad happens just in your vicinity you'll find a way to blame yourself, and if you knew how bad it was you'd make yourself wish I'd never become friends with you, that night at the party." Then, the blond girl stood up and looked in Dipper's eyes, a warm expression growing slowly. "And I never want you to regret that. No matter what the future holds for me, becoming your friend was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I wouldn't change it no matter what."
Then, her expression fell again as Pacifica went to a window, gazing out into the forest. "Besides, even if you did help me get out from under them, where would I go from there? I have no actual possessions of my own, no life skills and no personal wealth. I may... I may hate what they've become, but without my parents I couldn't survive and would have no where else to stay."
"You can stay here." Dipper said without hesitation.
"YEAH!" Mabel cheered from across the room. "It'll be like a non-stop sleepover!"
"Always room for one more under this roof." Soos added in.
"Oh great, you guys decide to start collecting rent on the Northwest after she's broke!" Grunkle Stan spoke up, eliciting withering glares from everyone in the room for his poorly timed sarcasm. "All right, all right, she can stay, sheesh!" He said defensively, then his hardened face softened into a somewhat distant look of sadness on his face. "It wouldn't be easy, having to survive on your own, abandoned by your parents..." he said to himself softly.
Pacifica looked on the verge of tears at this out pour of support. "I... I can't... Thank you, all of you. I really don't know what to say..."
"Say you'll stay!" Mabel called from the back of the room.
"...except that I will pay you all back for this someday, I promise."
In-spite of the very serious atmosphere that had permeated the room, Dipper couldn't help but chuckle a little at the girl's awkward phrasing. "Hey, don't worry, call this one a freebie." He joked, then got a little sheepish and said more seriously "But really, I mean it. I really do respect you for always trying to be so selfless all the time, but there is nothing wrong with asking for help."
"I'm glad I didn't ask for any help with this." Stanford Pines muttered to himself while trudging through a particularly dense patch of forest. While all of the family drama had been occurring over at the Mystery Shack, he'd spent the day trudging through the deep woods of Gravity Falls examining spiritual locations linked to Bill Cipher, looking carefully for signs of his return.
The reason he had opted not to get help (Dipper would have been his only real choice in the matter) was not so much the increasingly thick overgrowth he was hiking through, but the location that was at the end of it: a simple, moss laden cave entrance hidden among the rocks of the strange cliffs overlooking the town.
This cave was the home of a Native American shaman who had been Bill Cipher's pawn a great many years in the past, in much the same manner Stanford once was: The triangular demon had offered the wise man great spiritual knowledge, so in his journey to commune with his muse and understand the world the shaman spent long hours meditating in this cave, with Cipher iconography painted on all surfaces while consuming psychedelic herbs and mushrooms to achieve the waking sleep needed to access the Dreamscape at will. In fact the only major difference between the two men was that Stanford had developed a synthetic, syringe delivered alternative to munching on random toadstools found in the woods.
As a result of all that, this cave was a spiritual hotspot and possibly a connection to the Dimension of Dreams, though testing on that front was inconclusive. The location also made Dipper extremely nervous and uncomfortable, once bringing him to nervous dry heaving that he thought was Bill Cipher strangling him from beyond the grave, so Stanford preferred to work alone when it came to the cave.
The inside of the cave curved back and forth very shortly after opening to the outside world, then straightened back to normal, ensuring visitors were plunged into darkness almost as soon as they entered. Ford entered with his flashlight at the ready, sweeping over the damp walls with it and confirming everything was still normal.
Then the flashlight died, shorting out with an electrical hiss.
Always prepared, Ford quickly withdrew a matchbox from his pocket and lit a flame.
When light returned to the rock cavern, the man saw something he never wanted to.
During the temporary plunge into darkness, the walls of the cave had become coated in human blood, all carefully arranged to spell out a very clear message for Stanford Pines.
CIPHER SITS INSIDE YOUR HEAD
CIPHER LIVES AMONG THE DEAD
CIPHER SEES YOU IN YOUR BED
AND EATS YOU WHEN YOU'RE SLEEPING
The message repeated over and over and over and over covering every surface of rock, the blood beginning to drip off each letter as if it had just been freshly applied. Underneath Stanford's feet, the earth itself began to writhe as a thick layer of insects and vermin seemingly came to life and squirmed with sinister intent.
Though he was terrified on the inside, the scientist kept his composure and analyzed the situation. "Must be a psychic projection, blood is too fresh for me to have simply overlooked it upon entering." He looked at the floor, creating puddles of grimy bug innards with every move of the foot. "One of those was a Deinacrida elegans; terrifying, but also exclusive to the island of New Zealand. Floor is also an illusion. Metal plate in the head prevents direct nerve stimulation illusions, meaning this is a product of the cave's spiritual nature. Results... inconclusive."
Stanford moved for the exit of the cave, walking slowly and trusting his memory more than his senses, as the imagery of the cave was growing more and more horrific in an attempt to frighten him from the exit, dripping blood pooling into a puddle from which crawling chaos emerges as the cramped ceiling seems to stretch forever into a burning sky while the dead and the wicked rise from the bed of squirming vermin.
Ford could see his parents writhing in the vermin swarm below, and wanted to be away from them. He willingly walked into the maw of a great, six eyed dragon whose syringe teeth leaked acid that sat where he knew the entrance to the cave was, and in a moment was back in the muted sunlight of the forest, the sounds of a universe being devoured by entropy replaced by the gentle hum of wildlife and distant moving water.
Ford took a minute simply to breathe in and out, in the crisp forest air, waiting for his heart to slow and limbs to stop shaking. That was the most intense experience he'd ever had in that cave, and he had to assume the worst: Bill Cipher had found a way to return.
Inside the Northwest town house, Preston shoved his way through the door a disheveled mess, crashing onto a kitchen table chair, across from his wife who was laying face down in a rat poison laced ham sandwich, foaming saliva pooling on the table. The ruined industrialist held his head in his hands and began to sob quietly, a mixture of sorrow and terror in the blubbering noises he made.
"WELL WELL WELLY WELLERS." Came a high pitch voice from nowhere and everywhere. "GUESS YOUR PLAN TO JUST GRAB THE GIRL AND RUN AWAY DIDN'T WORK OUT! WHO'D HAVE GUESSED THAT? YOU DO KNOW HUMAN SACRIFICE CAN ONLY HOLD ME AT BAY A SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME, RIGHT?"
With wordless whimpering, Preston crawled underneath the table, trying in vain to block out the voice. "NOW I WILL ADMIT, I LIKE THE WHOLE "GRAB THE DAUGHTER AND LIVE LIFE AS WANDERING SERIAL KILLERS" THING YOU CAME UP WITH TO TRY AND AVOID ME, BUT YOU STILL TRIED TO DESERT MY SERVICE, SO I GOTTA PUNISH YOU. THEMS THE BREAKS."
Preston, still simply hiding and shivering under the table, felt the clumsily applied bandages scattered on his back rip open, and hundreds of chittering, crawling insects poured from the wounds, piercing his flesh with every step and tormenting his body beyond his eyesight, driving stingers into his spinal cord, crawling inside his ears to chew the eardrum with mandibles, and running wings through his hair. He couldn't see their shapes, but could feel their wretched bodies invading him.
The man was beyond crying, beyond screaming, beyond the reaches of all human expressions of discomfort, for the human species is a social animal, and all human displays of pain or discomfort evolved as mechanisms to acquire assistance from one's peers. Preston Northwest however, knew he was beyond help, that no one would come to his rescue. He was wholly within the demon's power.
As he writhed and whimpered under the table, the insect swarm having been joined by a sickly, bitter vine forcing its way down his throat and blooming into a tree inside the man's lungs, Preston heard the only voice in the world that mattered to him once again.
"YOU KNOW WHAT YOU NEED TO DO TO MAKE UP FOR THAT."
And so, after a few minutes, Preston Northwest, back still bandaged and lungs free of flora, stood up from the floor of his perfectly normal suburban home, walked to retrieve a shovel from the garage, then vanished into the night.