Bill Cipher snapped into consciousness. He scrambled backward to get away from Sixer and the strange metal object that he held in his other hand, an object that Bill's half conscious mind was sure was meant to cause pain. However, Bill was on a tall medical bed, and in his attempt to get away, he crashed onto the floor. Pain shot through his body and he cried out.
"Woah, easy," Ford said gently as he pushed the bed away, which was on wheels, to kneel by Cipher, who had curled into a ball.
"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you Cipher." Ford eased Bill into a sitting position.
"Sixer?" Bill asked. "What's going on?"
"The kids found you in the woods and brought you here." Ford said cautiously.
"And here is? Oh, under the shack," Bill looked up and recognized the stone ceiling. He tried to stand up, but immediately fell back down when pain shot through his foot.
"You're going to pull your stitches out doing that," Ford warned. Bill looked at himself and found his chest and arms were completely wrapped in white bandages. He could guess his legs were in a similar situation under the white cotton pants he was wearing.
"You're helping me?" Bill asked, shocked.
"Only for scientific curiosity," Ford said. He scooped up the boy, with no small amount of protest, and deposited him back onto the bed. After adjusting the headrest so Bill was in a sitting position, and checking that the IV hadn't been disrupted, he offered him a glass of water. Bill gingerly took the glass in his left hand, his right was completely encased in bandages. Ford sighed and help him put the glass to his lips and drink. After it was empty, Ford brought back out the syringe that had startled Bill originally.
"I need to take some blood Cipher." Bill nodded his consent and flinched slightly when the needle entered his vein. As he was drawing blood, Bill asked, "How long have I been unconscious?"
"Three days. We were beginning to think you weren't ever going to wake up. There." Ford withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton ball to the puncure. "What happened to you anyway?"
"I don't really know myself," Bill admitted. "After my failure conquering your pathetic world, my colleagues wanted revenge. I don't know how, but they managed to turn me back from stone. They did thingsā¦" Bill shuddered. "Things I don't want to ever think about again. Before turning me into one of you stupid meat sacks. Then they broke this body as much as they could, before leaving me for dead. How broken am I?" Ford thought solemnly for a moment before answering.
"Well, almost all your ribs are broken, your left ankle is busted as are most of the bones in that foot. Your right wrist is shattered. You have severe lacerations all over your body, not to mention the damage to your back, and there is some second and third degree burns on your chest. You lost a lot of blood and were severely dehydrated. You also seem to be suffering from malnutrition. I've got you dosed up on a ton of painkillers, so I'm rather surprised that you are so lucid." Bill took all of this without looking away from Ford.
"It's probably a leftover of being a demon," Bill said matter of factly.
"What is?"
"The painkillers not affecting my mind. A demon's mind is far superior to a humans." Even though Bill would never admit it, even now he could feel his vast intellect dwindling. He couldn't recall his oldest memories, and his omnipotence was fading fast. He tried doing a complex mathematical equation in his head and found that he couldn't. He was really turning into a human.
"I'm going to get you something to eat," Ford said as he started walking away. Bill stared at the ceiling, bored beyond belief, until Ford came back, but he wasn't alone.
"Hi you evil dorito!" Mabel said cheerfully, her brother lurking behind her.
"Shooting Star, Pine Tree. Come to bemone my current state?"
"They've come to see if they should have left you for the monsters," Ford said, dropping a plate of pancakes and potatoes onto Bill's lap.
"I want to make it perfectly clear that I was all for leaving you in the woods," Dipper said, as he approached the once-demon.
"Calm down bro bro," Mabel sighed. Dipper glared at his twin.
Ford ignored them and handed Bill a fork. "Are you left handed?" he asked.
"I think so," Bill said, as he clumsily tried to cut off a piece of pancake. His fork slipped and he mumbled under his breath, "Stupid body, not doing what I want." Mabel stepped in.
"Here," she gently took his hand in hers and helped him cut his food. Bill swore he could hear Dipper growling when she touched him, but didn't interfere.
Bill had never had someone help him before. Normally, people only made deals with him because they wanted something. He'd never really experienced human kindness before; it felt strange.
"Well, I'm going to run some tests on this blood," Ford broke the awkward silence that had fallen. "Wanna help Dipper?"
"Sure," Dipper followed his mentor to a different part of the lab while Mabel continued to help Bill eat.
Later that night, Bill received a visit from Stanley Pines.
A crash, followed by a steady stream of swearing woke Bill from his drug induced sleep. A light blared in his face and a hand roughly grabbed his forearm, squeezing tightly against one of his worse burns.
Bill cried out in pain, but a hand clamped against his mouth.
"Quite. I don't want to wake Ford." Stanly came into focus, and fear welled up in Bill's chest.
"What do you want?" Bill asked through grit teeth.
"I want to make sure you will never hurt my family again monster," Stan pressed his other hand on Bills broken wrist.
"I'll do whatever you want, just stop," Bill whined, tears starting to stream down his face. Stan lessened the pressure.
"I want you to make a deal with me. Swear to never hurt my family again," Stan demanded.
"Deal's are only binding if there is an exchange," Stan pressed harder against his wrist. "How about this. As long as I never hurt your family, you won't hurt me?" Bill offered. Slowly, Stan's eyes narrowed. He gave one final sqweeze to Bill's arm before letting him go.
"Deal," Stan held out his hand. Weakly, Bill raised his injured hand to shake. A faint glimmer a blue flames binded the deal, and Stan left Bill to a fitful sleep.
A week passed uneventfully. Ford was somewhat shocked with the speed that Bill healed at. Already some of the lesser cuts and burns where nothing more than scars, and he was able to remove some of the stiches. At Mabel's insistence, Bill was put in a wheelchair and taken outside to soak up some much needed vitamin D and watch the comings and goings of the tourists.
Ford had replaced the thick bandages on Bill's broken ankle and hand for proper casts which Mabel was currently covering in stickers and glitter, but Bill didn't mind. He had a pit cola in his uninjured hand, and was watching a small child running around in the grass, chasing Mabel's pig who was clearly having a ball.
"Waddles! Come over and say hi to Bill," Mabel looked up from where she was kneeling on the deck decorating Bill's cast. Cheerfully, the little creature stopped what he was doing, and trotted over. However, once he was a few feet away, he paused. He sniffed the air and his eyes went wide. Slowly, he backed away.
"What's wrong with him?" Mabel asked, standing up.
"He probably smells me. Demons aren't really animal friendly," Bill explained matter of factly.
"But you're not a demon anymore." Mabel went over to her pet and picked him up. She tried carrying the pig over to Bill, but the normally gentle creature thrashed and squealed until Mabel was forced to drop him. Annoyed, the pig trotted off to go find something better to do.
"It's okay Mabel. He's clearly a smart pig," Bill said.
"Smarter than most of us," Stan appeared in the doorway. "I really don't like you having the demon outside Mabel. I'd feel much better if you kept him locked up in the lab." Stan stated.
"Bill is not a demon anymore." Mabel stomped her foot to emphasise her point.
"The pig thinks he is," Stan pointed out.
"Well Ford said he is less than 2% demon, and that's human enough for me."
"Why are you so insistent on defending that thing?" Stan asked, exasperated.
"I'm right here you know," Bill tried, but Stan glared daggers at him and he stopped talking.
"Because, we can teach him to be good. This is our chance, but you just want to throw it away." Mabel glared at her grunkle, who signed, defeated.
"Fine. But I wouldn't let that thing out of my sight." Stan marched back into the shack.
"I'm sorry, Bill. They'll warm up to you eventually." Mabel sank to the floor among her art supplies.
"I wouldn't be mad if they never did. I'm starting to understand where they're coming from. Human emotions are weird, but, in their own crazy way, I guess they make sense," Bill stared off into the forest.
"I'm not going to let the hurt you," Mabel said defiantly, and went back to decorating.
