Dipper woke up with a pounding headache and an ache in his side.

"Good, you're awake." He heard Grunkle Stan somewhere nearby. "Mabel, he's awake!" Dipper heard footsteps on the stairs and when he turned his head to the door, there was Mabel.

"Oh thank God!" She yelled.

"Hey Mabes." Dipper said through sleepy eyes. "What's goin on?"

"Maybe you should tell me that?" She chided.

Dipper rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand and tried to sit up, but the sharp ache in his side kept him down.

"What... happened?" He muttered. "Wait... wait..." All at once the events in the woods all rushed back. The light, the fighting, the running, passing out in the yard, Mabel finding him in the yard, and the…

"The kid." Dipper said suddenly.

"The what?" Mabel asked, pausing in pulling out a bandaid for his cheek.

"Never mind. It's nothing." Dipper pulled himself into a sitting position, grunting with the effort. He pushed Mabel's hand away when she tried to stop him from standing. He hated when she worried, it was always his fault when she did. And this was most definitely something Mabel didn't need to worry about.

"Where are you go-?"

"Upstairs, I need to get clean." Dipper interrupted, before turning into the hall and up the stairs. With some effort and quite a bit of pausing Dipper made it up the stairs and to the bathroom.

He stood in front of the mirror and inspected himself. The most noticeable thing would have been the large dark circles under his eyes from not sleeping. They would be the most noticeable, of course, if it wasn't for the fact that his face was marked with small scratches and bruises, the largest of which was a think line that stretched from his cheekbone down to his jaw. His arms were also covered in small scratches and smudges of dirt. Dipper sighed pulled off his ruined sweater and lifted up his shirt to look at the rather sizable bruise on the side of his ribs. He thought he could vaguely make out a shoe print in the middle of it. Dipper touched it tenderly, it would be there for a while. He scowled at it.

"What the hell was with that kid?" Dipper muttered. He suddenly thought about the kid's promise of meeting again with excitement, the thought of payback. But that was replaced with apprehension when he remembered the kid's apparent indifference to murdering a teenager in the woods. And the strange light emanating from him while he was chanting in the woods. It was almost like he was a…

"Demons don't exist." Dipper muttered with a dismissive shake of the head.

With quite a bit of grimacing, Dipper managed to pull off one of his socks to inspect his injured toes. Both socks now had at least one hole in them and were filthy. Dipper's third, fourth, and fifth toes were all purple and quite swollen. Running on that foot after slamming it into a tree root was probably not the best thing for it. He decided the best thing for him was a shower and a change of clothes. It would be a lot easier to think about everything if he wasn't covered in dirt, blood, and ruined pajamas.

After he had showered Dipper grabbed a clean white T-shirt and jeans. His foot was too swollen to put on shoes so he elected to go without them. When he finally glanced at the clock he wasn't all that surprised to find out it was 8:47pm. Staying up all night and being beaten up can wear you out quite a bit. If he hurried, he knew he could watch the rest of the sunset from the roof. He passed Mabel on the stairs but she was too busy with her phone to pay him much attention. He walked into the kitchen and absent-mindedly opened the refrigerator. When nothing looked appealing, Dipper grabbed a bag of popcorn.

By the time Dipper had closed the hatch on the roof and sat down on the ledge of the roof, the sunset was already turning from pink to red. Dipper sipped his soda and distractedly rubbed the bruise on his side. Dipper leaned back against the warm shingles and closed his eyes in thought. That wasn't the first time his curiosity had gotten him into trouble. If was however the first time he had encountered something like that kid. Even for Gravity Falls, it was unnatural.

When Dipper opened his eyes the sky was now a brilliant orange-red that faded to a dark purple and the stars were coming faintly into view in the East. Dipper heard the boy's voice in his head once more.

"I'll see you tomorrow..."

But Dipper had a plan now. If that boy showed up, he'd be in for a surprise. While Dipper climbing the ladder, he overheard that Grunkle Stan had discovered that he had misplaced his handgun. It hadn't been misplaced, of course, Dipper had grabbed it off the nightstand on his way upstairs. Dipper made sure he wasn't going to be taken by surprise again. The rest of the evening sun faded out beneath the horizon and the stars began to blink into view. Dipper looked up at them wistfully. He'd always liked the night better than the day, especially in the fall. When you could look out and see the lighter shade of the Milky Way against the black of the night sky. He liked the colors at night better too. The bright vibrant colors in the sun were all well and good but the deep blue-green of the pine trees and grass were beyond compare. From where he was sitting on the roof he could look across the lawn and see the shadows the moon cast on the ground.

That was something else he liked about Gravity Falls, night time. Days in Gravity Falls were filled with adventures and monster hunting and sweaty, uncomfortable fishing trips. But when night fell it was so quiet, like the whole world had gone to sleep. The whole world except, it seemed, for the figure now emerging from the woods and walking steadily towards the Shack.

Dipper watched the figure with curiosity, though he had already guessed what it was. He deftly touched his right pocket and felt the shape of the handgun situated there. The figure stepped into a ray of moonlight and looked up at Dipper, it was as he had expected.

The boy looked the same as he had when Dipper had seen him the first time, with the exception of a cut-off black tank top instead of a T-shirt. The boy stared at him for a moment his head tilted in a way that moved his streaked bangs aside and caught the rays of moonlight in his eyes.

"I told you I'd see you again." The boy said with a smile. He was quite a ways from the shack but his normal speaking voice was somehow able to carry all the way to Dipper.

"I didn't doubt it." Dipper replied, he tried to sound nonchalant but he could tell that he did not.

"Come down and we can play another game." The boy spoke again, placing his hands in his pockets. Dipper instinctively grasped at the gun in his pocket. The boy frowned when Dipper didn't move and took a step forward.

"Unless you're afraid to lose?" The boy taunted.

"More like afraid to die," Dipper countered. "I'd rather skip the game and stay up here, thanks."

The boy sighed and took his hands out of his pockets with a shrug. "That's fine I suppose," he said. "I'll just have to join you up there then."

"What do yo-," before Dipper could finish the boy had disappeared in a blink. "What the?" Dipper looked around frantically, one moment he was there and then the next he was gone.

"Looking for something?" The voice came from behind Dipper so he spun around, and there he was. Standing on the peak of the roof mere feet from Dipper, hands back in his pockets. In a moment of fear and surprise Dipper yanked the gun out of his pocket and aimed it square at the boy's chest.

"S-stand back." Dipper stammered. He tried to act like he wasn't afraid but it was quite obvious that he was. The boy lifted his foot to take a step forward but stopped when Dipper's finger flinched on the trigger.

The boy set his foot back down and frowned. "You're no fun," He stated. He looked down at his feet and shuffled one against the roof with a dull scrape. "This game was a lot easier. No punishment if you lose."

Dipper's hands shook. Holding the gun like he was put a great deal of strain on his injured side. He wasn't sure how much longer he could use his weapon as leverage. "Again, I'll pass on the game," Dipper said. "Still a little sore from our last one."

The boy sighed and pulled his hands from his pockets. He lifted them next to his head as a sign of surrender, but in one hand was the dagger he had used the night before.

"Oh fine," the boy rolled his eyes and dramatically dropped the knife onto the shingles. The boy watched it as it skidded down the roof and landed with a small "clunk" in the gutter.

"Happy now?" He said with another sigh as he looked back at Dipper with his golden eyes.

"Quite," Dipper responded sarcastically. He lowered the gun but didn't put it away. The boy half smiled.

"We can play our game now." He stated as if Dipper had already agreed to it. The boy began to walk down the roof. When he drew even to him, Dipper took a wary step backwards. The boy sat down on the edge of the roof, legs hanging off the ledge, and looked out at the trees. Dipper looked down at the boy, then looked away and shook his head disapprovingly at himself.

"I must be crazy..." Dipper thought. Before sitting down about two feet from the boy.

"Alright," Dipper said as he set the gun in his lap, "what game are we playing this time?"

The boy smiled. Dipper looked at him out of the corner of his eye. This was the first time he had looked at him up close without the distraction of a knife in his face. The boy really was something to look at. He was skinny, but Dipper could clearly see the muscles beneath the surface. When he smiled the freckles that dotted his face like stars made it brighter. But his smile was a little unsettling for some reason, Dipper at first thought it was the hint of insanity that lurked behind it. But he now thought it was that it was just an unnaturally perfect smile, other than the fact his canines seemed a little sharper than most.

"You're going to guess my name," The boy stated as he leaned back against the shingles and closed his eyes with a smug smile. Dipper was confused, this seemed far too tame compared to what had happened the night before.

"Why don't you just tell it to me?" Dipper asked, annoyance sleeping through in his question.

The boy opened his eyes but didn't move. "Because I said to guess," he stated, "That's the game."

"A dumb game if you ask me," Dipper muttered.

"I could up the stakes, I suppose," the boy said as he adopted a more threatening tone. "I said no punishment but I can always change my mind."

Dipper's hand instinctively closed around the gun and he saw the boy's eyes dart to it and then back up again.

"I'll pass," Dipper said quickly. He stared at the boy apprehensively before continuing, "how many guesses do I get?"

"Three... Four if you're lucky." He said as he closed his eyes again.

Dipper decided to ignore the last part of his statement and began to think. "There's thousands of names, how could I possibly get it right?!"

"Tick tock," the boy sing-songed with a smile.

"Oh shut it!" Dipper snapped. The boy furled his brows, he appeared to be thinking. The boy looked like he was about to speak but Dipper interrupted him by throwing out a name.

"Michael?" Dipper guessed.

"No," the boy said, his expression changing again to one of mild amusement as he closed his eyes again. Dipper took notice of how quickly the boy shifted personalities, almost like a child.

"Anthony?" Dipper guesses again, and was again answered with a 'no'.

"One more guess..." the boy said, sitting up onto his elbows.

Dipper stared at the boy, studying him. The manic glint that had been in his eyes in the woods was returning. He thought quickly, hundreds of names came to mind but, how could he possibly come to the right one?

"I... I don't know," Dipper said quietly. The boy frowned again with a sigh.

"Oh well," he said, sitting up and looking out at the trees. "That's no fun." He was silent for another moment before standing up suddenly and speaking again. Dipper looked up at him curiously. The boy was looking down at him with a pensive look on his face.

"I've changed my mind." He stated blankly. The boy raised his hand up near his head and twisted it deftly, the shining dagger he'd thrown away early appeared in his hand. Dipper scrambled onto his feet, grasping at the handgun. He backed up slightly before raising it even with the boy's chest, his hands shaking violently. The boy stared silently, holding the knife slightly aloft. All pain Dipper had previously felt had been replaced with a feeling of fear.

The boy stepped forwards quickly and in a flash Dipper had pulled the trigger with a resounding bang. The boy stumbled backward slightly, shock plastered on his face, knife still in his hand. His heels teetered at the edge. He looked at Dipper, held tilted slightly, then down at the small hole in the left of his rib cage.

"You... you shot me?" The boy asked, barely above a whisper. He looked back down at his chest then back up again. As they locked eyes, the boy's eyes closed half-way and he tipped backwards off the ledge.

Dipper limply dropped the gun, he heard it slide down the roof as he tried to steady his shaking breath. He stood in shock for a moment before he scrambled to the edge, hurriedly searching the dark ground for the shape of the boy. However, he saw nothing on the grass below. Dipper quickly scaled the roof, opened the trap door, and hurried as quietly as he could down the stairs.

The slamming of the screen door behind him caused him to wonder why the sound of the gunshot earlier had not awoken either Mabel or Grunkle Stan. But, he pushed that thought out of mind when he rounded the corner to the side of the house that lay beneath the section of roof he had been on only minutes earlier. He'd luckily had the common sense to grab the flashlight from the hall table on his way to the door. Staying close to the corner of the house, Dipper clicked the light on and shone it to the patch of grass where the boy should've now been lying. But, as Dipper had seen from the roof, there was nothing on the grass.

Dipper cautiously creeped forward to the exact spot beneath the ledge and scanned the area around him. But still, nothing was there. Dipper stood in his confusion, moving the light from side to side. It didn't make sense. He saw the boy fall, he had to have landed here, but he wasn't there.

"That wasn't very nice, you know." The voice froze Dipper's blood in his veins. He stood completely still, not daring to look away from the light of his flashlight for fear of what he may find in the shadows. He waited, praying he had imagined it. Praying the lack of sleep was playing tricks on him. But then he heard it again.

"I wasn't actually gonna hurt ya'."

Dipper wheeled around, falling backwards with a small shout when he found himself almost nose to nose with the boy.

"Not too much anyways..." the boy muttered quietly. He began to take a step forward and Dipper scrambled back as quickly as he could. The gun was still on the roof, he had no way to defend himself. In his haste to get away, his injured foot kicked a small rock protruding from the ground and he had to stop momentarily in pain. Suddenly, his back hit the wall of the shack which made him wince again. He was trapped. Behind him: a solid wall. In front: a psychopath.

"Wh-what do you want from me?!" Dipper cried out. The boy stopped advancing, and tilted his head to the side before answering.

"I just wanted to play a game," he said with a shrug, his voice laced with innocence. He furrowed his brow for a moment. "Did... did I scare you?" He asked. Dipper detected the confusion in his voice.

"Well you've had a knife in my face for two nights in a row," Dipper shot sarcastically, "what do you think?!" The boy took a step back, golden eyes laced with confusion. He took a few more steps before flouncing to the ground in a cross-cross.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly. "I didn't mean to scare you, Dipper." Dipper still remained pressed to the wall.

"H-how do you know my name?" He asked shakily.

"Oh," the boy's mischievous aura returning, "that's a secret." As he said this he raised both of his hands a wiggled his fingers, Dipper swore he saw blue sparks twinkle around his fingertips.

"W-we'll then maybe I should know yours," Dipper forced the shake from his voice, "that was the point of the game after all."

The boy sat up straighter. "William," he said with a grin. Dipper didn't think that was a fitting name, he thought "Satan-spawn" had a better ring to it. The boy tilted his head again, which Dipper decided must be some sort of habit for him, before saying: "But you can call me Bill."

"A-alright then. Bill it is," Dipper kept his back to the wall, half expecting Bill to lunge at him again.

"I'm not going to try to stab you again if that's what you're thinking," Bill said with an exaggerated eye roll. Dipper relaxed slightly. Slightly. Because he'd promised no "punishment" if he guessed wrong and that almost ended very poorly. "How do you keep doing that?" Dipper asked.

"Doing what?"

"That thing you keep doing. It's- it's like you keep reading my mind or something."

The boy twiddled his thumbs over his crossed legs and looked down at his hands. He was quiet before looking back up again. His cheeks were tinged with an embarrassed blush, the kind you get when someone just pointed out something you're self-conscious about. Dipper's first thought was that it impossibly made Bill more attractive than he already was. That thought was followed by Dipper feeling ashamed for apparently making Bill uncomfortable.

"Do uh..." Bill stuttered slightly, "you want me to stop?"

Dipper's eyes widened and he leaned forward a little out of curiosity. "So... you are reading my mind?"

"Well..." Bill tilted his head again, "it's a little more complicated than that." He looked as if he was going to say more but trailed off, his eyes looking above Dipper's head. Dipper turned his head to see what Bill seemed to be fixed on. About a foot or so above Dipper's head a faint line of sunlight was beginning to creep down the side of the shack. It was almost dawn.

"I... have to go." Bill stated, getting up hurriedly and beginning to back towards the trees he'd emerged from at the beginning of the night. He glanced over his shoulder and back at Dipper a few times while continuing to speak. "I'll explain next time I see you."

"Which will be when?" Dipper asked. He tried to get up but the sharp pain in his foot kept him sitting.

Bill smiled again, his white teeth caught the glint of the morning light. "I don't know," The smile turned to a small smirk, "whenever I feel like it."

Dipper watched Bill walk into the trees and out of sight. His face was one of incredulity mixed with amusement and a hefty dose of confusion. If anything, Dipper was more scared of Bill than he had been last night, but for a different reason. At first, Dipper was scared for the obvious reasons: Bill was dangerous and had zero qualms about murder.

But now, Dipper's terror seemed to be coming more from confusion than from fear itself. As he sat against the shack holding his side, Dipper thought about this strange boy. He looked like he was Dipper's age, give or take a few years, but he didn't act like it. Dipper thought him very childish at times, and very adult and serious at others. He also seemed incredibly unpredictable: flipping from bubbly to murderous in seconds, and changing his mind on a whim. And, then there was the matter of his appearance. He was almost supernaturally attractive, in Dipper's personal opinion, and even the psychotic glint in his eye did nothing to hide that fact.

Dipper hoisted himself up, using the wall for support, finally tearing his eyes from the trees. By this point the sun was about halfway above the horizon and everything was bathed in the early morning light. He gingerly rubbed his bruised side and decided to conveniently "find" Stan's pistol the next time he had the strength to get onto the roof. As he made his way around the house he decided to see if there was anything similar to Bill in the journal. As far as he could recall, there was nothing. But checking was all he could think to do.

The bell above the front door gave off a faint jingle as Dipper slowly opened it, and barely made a creak as he shut it behind him. The clock in the hall showed 7:32 am. A second night without sleep, but he wasn't tired. Dipper wasn't sure if it was adrenaline or just being past the point of exhaustion. Dipper hobbled into the kitchen and pulled the first aid kit off the top of the fridge. He made a mental note to ice his foot later, but for now a new bandage and some painkillers would have to do. He re-wrapped his toes and grabbed a cup from the cabinet to wash down the pills. As he slid the box back onto the fridge he heard the faint creak of the stairs and turned to the doorway.

"Hey Mabel," he said. Mabel walked past him and grabbed a box of cereal off the counter.

"G'morning," she said with a yawn. As she poured her bowl she glanced over at Dipper. "How're the battle scars?"

"Could be better," Dipper said with a chuckle. He leaned against the doorway and looked out into the living room for a moment. "Hey, Mabel?"

"Yeah?" Mabel answered with another exaggerated yawn.

Dipper looked back into the kitchen and said: "I need your help with something."