He had run hard, harder than he had ever run in his entire life. But in the end, Dipper had no choice but to loudly crash to the ground, desperately wheezing for every last molecule of oxygen he could ever hope to inhale. His muscles were on fire, and even now he could feel his legs throbbing with rage at their owner for pushing the limits so far. After a few minutes of gasping like a beached fish, Dipper found himself cursing out loud, stringing every mean-spirited thing he could imagine into one outburst. And in the end, slamming his fist against the ground, he said all those cruel things about himself. Self-loathing… that seemed all too appropriate. Planting his palms firmly on the ground, Dipper pushed up to only to realize that he was still a fair shake outside of town. Panning to the right showed him the construction site he had passed on the way up to the mansion, which he plainly remembered since he saw the police cruiser that had taken Pacifica pass by him as it returned to town. He thought for a moment they would stop him. But apparently they didn't even think they had to.

"Damn him." Dipper spat out through a weak voice. "Damn you, Northwest!"

"Yeah, he's a real troll when he wants to be…"

With a short yelp, Dipper jerked his head back and forth. He knew there was nobody here, especially not someone who could be parked right over his shoulder and speak directly into his ear.

"Who was that? Show yourself!"

"Don't remember me? Aww come on, I remember you!"

He stood up, making himself as tall as he could as he looked up into the sky. It had clouded over on the run to Northwest manor, and it looked as if the evening would be getting grayer and grayer. Closing his eyes with a sigh and a sinking feeling, Dipper took deep, cool breaths to steel his mind. He'd need it for this.

"No, I remember you." He said as calmly as possible. "Hello, Bill."

"Hah!" The demon came into being right in front of Dipper, sparks and confetti heralding his arrival. His minute cane and top hat seemed to dance to an imaginary tune as Bill Cipher applauded himself, Dipper's guess, or both. "Yep, it's me again! How you been Pines? Wait, wait, let me guess… bad."

Eyes still closed, Dipper lowered his head and exhaled. He opened them only before speaking. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm always here, Pines." Bill gloated as he spun his cane. "I thought you knew that. Or is that embarrassment of a high school of yours making you stupider? That reminds me, you still have a crush on that French teacher with the huge—?"

"Shut up! What do you want!?"

"Just to hang out." The demon said in mock hurt as he drifted close to Dipper, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I mean, you look like you've been having a real rough day. Tough thing losing the love of your life, am I right?"

Dipper growled and swatted at the impish outsider, though his hands merely passed through his insubstantial form. Dipper opted instead to walk away from the object of his loathing, though the first step he took seemed to plunge him into madness. The sidewalk gave away to inky blackness, a deep, endless night that Dipper fell screaming into for what felt like forever until, head spinning with vertigo, he found himself slowly walking through it.

"What…? Bill, what are you up to?"

"Nothin'. Why do you ask?"

Dipper peered into the void, eyes aching at the sight of it. It was nothing. Nothing in every direction. But then he heard a sound behind him.

"Where is she!?"

It was… his voice? Spinning to look at whatever was going on behind his back, Dipper took in the strange sight of himself. The world of black was replaced with the view of him having his argument with Preston Northwest from the side, showing both of their scowl-twisted faces. They continued to shout at one another without another sound being heard.

"Wow." Bill said calmly from over Dipper's shoulder. "Look how cheesed off you are. I don't think I've ever made you that mad."

"This isn't funny Bill…"

"Of course not. Isn't supposed to be. I'm just being your bro, bro!"

"Dipper… you came back."

He spun around again, mouth twisted into a frown as he stared at himself and Pacifica as they looked off into the forest. He could only see their gestures and body language as they talked to each other.

"I… what are you trying to do?" Dipper asked while trying to muster some courage. This was rapidly sickening him.

"I read it in a book once." Bill said with a grin betrayed by his eye as he hovered between the phantom Dipper and Pacifica. "You know, like a person! It's called… aww nuts, what was it? Therapy!"

"This isn't… you aren't helping me!"

"Oh?"

"I think I love you…"

Screwing his eyes shut and holding his feet steady, Dipper dared not look at what lay behind him. It was all just some illusory trick, he was sure. He couldn't guess why… maybe Bill had been messing with him the whole time.

"Hey now, not looking at it won't make it go away, you know." Bill said as he tapped Dipper's forehead.

"I'm not looking, Bill. I don't know what you're getting at, but this isn't the time for your garbage!"

"Hey. Hey, it's supposed to be good for you to let stuff go." Bill responded without much patience, jabbing Dipper with his cane. Dipper kept his eyes shut.

"What are you talking about, man!?"

"I'm saying that you're never going to see Pacifica again, so you might as well rip off the band-aid now! Now look at it!"

Bill's voice grew massive, and hateful, and born out through the heavens like a peal of thunder. It startled the boy into looking, and just as he suspected, he regretted it. They sat together under that tree, the phantom of him and Pacifica from less than a week ago now. They looked into each other's eyes. They looked happy. And it only served to remind him that he wouldn't be anymore. His eyes welled with tears.

"Let me go, you idiot! Let me go! Dipper!"

He shut his eyes only to wipe the tears away, hoping he'd have the strength to not open them again and see more of Bill's painful reminders. But he didn't, and he did. There it was before him, the last sight he had of Pacifica as she was torn away from him.

"Yikes." Bill said as scratched his head. "That must've been a nasty feeling."

"Shut up, Bill…" Dipper said weakly as he looked at the ground through blurred eyes.

"Yeah, this is probably the last time you'll see her. Know what though? You'll be fine. Heck, just yesterday I was dropping spiders into the mouth of this guy stuck in a body cast. You could be that guy."

Bill laughed and spun his cane about, causing the colors of the world Dipper saw to spin together into a darkening mass that enveloped his senses once more. The void was all around him again; no light, no sound, no hope now, even.

"Yep." Bill whispered in Dipper's ear. "Probably the very last time."

He didn't want to. He didn't want to give in to the whispering. But it was getting to him now, despite any fortitude he wanted to muster. Dipper wanted out of Bill's awful little bubble. And he wanted Pacifica back right now.

"Why do you keep saying 'probably'?"

"Glad you ask, Little Dipper." Bill blared into view again, towering over the teenager in a blown-up version of himself, shrinking rapidly as he spoke. "See, since I think of us as pals, of a sort, I wanna' help you out."

"How's that now?"

"Well, I say probably the last time, for instance. I could probably get you two back together, and it'll probably only cost you very little."

"What would it cost?" Dipper asked casually, convincing himself not to take the bait. He thought he heard thunder again, but he couldn't be sure. "I love her… so what would it cost?"

"Probably just your firstborn child." Bill said with a shrug. Upon seeing Dipper's disbelief and disgust, Bill only chuckled. "Kidding, kidding. But you'd owe me a favor."

"I'd never do anything to help you. Ever."

"Yeesh, bitter. Fine. I could always just help ease your pain over her. I mean, it's not like you two were in love all that long, you know?"

In the corner of his eye, Dipper saw a soft light come into being. He glanced at it warily, expecting another haunting memory meant to taunt him. It looked like a study, of sorts, with a gentle, incandescent glow issuing from a lamp set on a dusty table. He walked toward the light without thinking, feet carrying him through the boundless void until he heard the scratch of his sandals against the area rug underfoot. In front of him now was a large, old easy chair set against a bookshelf with all manner of green and red books randomly, or seemingly randomly, arranged upon them. The table with the lamp sat next to the chair, and to his left Dipper could see a curtain window. Glancing out, it looked like rain was starting to come down against a backdrop of night, though as he looked closer, he swore he could make out the image of Pacifica walking away.

"It hurts, kid." Bill whispered as he hovered over the chair's cushion, feigning a dignified style of sitting. "I'm not a human, but I still know that."

Dipper turned away from the window as lightning flashed in it; again, he swore he could hear thunder. But now… he was starting to feel a little too depressed to care now. Looking at the table again, there seemed to be a new addition to it.

"Luckily for you, Dipper." Bill said in a tone eerily close to sympathetic. "I have the cure for what ails you…"

There was no sound besides the rain beating against the window, though to him his silent, ragged breathing roared like a hurricane, dominating his every thought except the one that perched mercilessly in front of him. On the table in front of him sat the means of escape from this room, this world that he was trapped by, wriggling to death now that hope had been dashed. Dipper reached for it, not sure if he was thinking straight or really at all as his fingers brushed the handle of the gun where it sat.

"This can't be the only way, can it?" Dipper asked as he looked it over.

"It's not. That's why I gave you two options, kiddo."

"But, that's not really an option." he muttered painfully as his fingers gripped the handle tight. He lifted the gun in his hand, thinking it felt much, much heavier than he remembered.

The memory erasing device… how strange that it and Dipper should be reunited in this circumstance. Maybe Fiddleford was right to make something like this, just for these occasions. Shifting the eraser so it rested in both hands, Dipper weighed both choices much as he weighed the gun. Even though he trembled terribly, he still gripped it surely, though again the weight of the thing seemed wrong. And he seemed… it felt as though he were just running in the rain, though he was sure he hadn't been. Dipper glanced out the window, where the downpour carried on apathetically.

"This all seems wrong. How can this be the way?"

"Free will is a nasty thing sometimes, Dippingsauce. This is how you deal with it."

The dial on the gun shifted suddenly, rocking the machine in his grip as it wobbled left and right and spelled out one letter after another the words he wished to forget forever. It happened so fast… P; A; C… I-F-C-A. And without so much as a moment wasted, the second word: NORTHWEST.

They glowed menacingly in a faint blue light, and Dipper was even less sure than before that this was the right way. Maybe this was cowardice, what he was doing? Could he call himself a man if he didn't just swallow the pain and carry on? Sure, the first love felt like the only one that ever mattered, but was it really…? But could he call himself a man if this is what left him too broken to ever be right again? The pain felt that heavy a burden on his mind.

It was simple, really, what the right choice was. He didn't touch the dial even once after it seemingly moved of its own accord, deciding his fate without half a thought. All Dipper did was the heavy lifting, raising the memory eraser to his temple, breathing hard and fast as faint tears began to trail down his cheeks. The gun rattled in his hand, but it wouldn't matter soon. As he pulled the trigger, he thought one last time about Pacifica. Yes. He loved her. He did.

"Dipper, no!"

He was roughly shoved, his arm knocked up on into the air as he squeezed the trigger. But instead of the buzz of the memory eraser that he remembered from his past dealings with the Society of the Blind Eye, there was a loud plink, followed by an obnoxious, continuous grinding. He was falling backwards, he could tell, but as he looked up into the sky he could no longer see the study or the light of the lamp, only the clouds. He hit solid ground with a loud grunt and a blow to the back of the head, and though he was dazed, Dipper could still hear that horrid grinding sound. Besides that, though, he swore he could hear someone crying.

"Grunkle Stan!"

Mabel?

"Hold on, dude, I got the generator!"

Soos?

Whatever the loveable man-child was talking about, he had done it. With some fiddling, beyond his sight, Soos had turned off whatever was making that racket. All that was left was the gentle sound of rain hitting the thirsty ground, and weeping that sounded very much like his sister. Dipper next felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, pulling him up from the ground.

"Kid, you alright!? Kid!"

"What…?" Dipper shook his head to clear out the rattling. "Grunkle Stan…? Mabel?"

She was indeed in tears, sobbing audibly through her hands and wiping her eyes free of tears that were inspired by a sudden bolt of fear. Looking around his feet, Dipper spied what had caused all the tension: a heavy nail gun lay just a few feet away, now deprived of power, but before clearly not. That had been in his hand. That had been next to his head.

"Oh jeez." Dipper said as he rubbed the ache in his skull. "I can't believe this…"

"What were you thinking!?" Mabel screamed viciously as she slapped at her brother haphazardly. Stan switched from supporting the boy to keeping her at bay as Soos joined the circle.

"I-I wasn't-! Bill! Bill tricked me! He's here, somewhere!"

"Bill…?" Stan asked with a puzzled look. "No one's here but us… unless…"

"Bill… Cipher?" Mabel asked with shock scrawled across her face.

Dipper ground his teeth as he stared at the nail gun. That miserable little monster had intended his death from the get-go. People would have thought it was another sad, short-sighted teen suicide! Glancing up at the fences, Dipper swore he could see that awful little polyhedron mocking him as he faded from view.

He climbed to his feet slowly. "Bill tricked me. Showed me all the stuff I was feeling to make me even stupider than I've been. I don't know why… if I had to blame someone for Bill showing up out of nowhere, I'd have to blame Northwest."

"What are you talking about?" Mabel asked between hiccups, tears and raindrops alike running down her face.

"He had Sheriff Blubs take her back to the mansion. Then he flew her out to some academy somewhere… I'll never see Pacifica again."

Thunder rolled through the valley, jolting everyone except Dipper, whose eyes were fixed on the mansion at the top of the hill. His teeth ached from gritting them as hard as he was. Preston Northwest… apparently he was as serious about this as Dipper was.

"He probably sent her to that hoity-toity school his parents sent him to when he was ankle biter." Stan grumbled as he ushered the kids into the car. "Morningtide, or something… It's about an hour southwest of Portland."

"That's gotta be it." Dipper shouted, eager for action, eager for anything. "the helicopter flew west! We have to go!"

"Are you kidding me right now?"

There was silence as they stood in the rain staring at each other, and for Stan this was a sobering moment. As he looked into Dipper's eyes, he saw something besides pluck and determination. He was afraid of what it might be, actually.

"Kid… my advice is—"

"I don't care!" He lurched forward in time with a flash lightning. "We have to go!"

"Dipper" Mabel quaked with fear. "What's gotten into you?"

"It's not like she's dead, kid." Stan tried to reason with him.

Dipper's eyes squeezed shut as his brow furrowed in absolute anger, and he stormed off toward town.

"I'll walk there if I have to."

"Dipper, wait!"

"Dude!"

Stan watched him walk through the storm, even as the wind picked up, even as the rain came down harder on their shoulders, rattling against everything solid for miles around, making the most deafening of dins. Yep. That's what he was afraid of.

· · ·

· · ·

She sat on the end of the bed, staring wordlessly at the mirror in front of her. It showed the luxury bedroom she was trapped in, evidenced by the nameless guard in the dark grey suit sitting in the room just beyond her open door. It revealed the trappings of wealth that her family expected her to forever be consumed by. And it reflected her. Looking at her own face, Pacifica Northwest saw only anguish. She saw her weary frame, wilted and drained and wrapped in the vivid colors of her designer clothing. Her eyes were red and puffy from on-again off-again crying. Her hair… it was just a mess. Seeing herself in the mirror, surrounded by the five-star hotel room, she could only feel out of place. So she stopped looking at it. The guard outside, one of her father's flunkies, laughed now and again as he rotted his brain with one moronic television program or another.

Eyes cast to the floor, Pacifica only sighed and thought about her past and future, still torn up by the suddenness of her uprooting. When she closed her eyes and drifted away, she could still see him… still smell him. She gripped her shirt collar and pulled it to her nose, taking a deep breath in hopes of feeling something more. Her clothes, though, only had the sterile scent of the soap that bitch Emily used to clean them. Even though she had stabbed her in the back, Pacifica couldn't muster anymore anger against her. Only angst was left to those thoughts. Biting her lip to stop from crying again, Pacifica only sobbed silently. She didn't notice the bedroom door close ever so slowly, noiselessly catching on the frame.

"No need for any more of that." a strange voice filtered in from above. "I mean really. Enough crying."

She looked up to the ceiling in shock; but there was nothing there. She must be tired, she told herself. Or slipping into madness. Or both.

"Down here, gorgeous!"

Her eyes flew to the mirror, but she only saw herself. Or did she? It was strange. Staring at her image, she could plainly see it blinking. But that's impossible, she knew that. Rising slowly, seeing her double do the same, Pacifica crossed the room at a snail's pace. She shook like a leaf as she stared into the looking glass, if only because while she was terrified beyond all rational thought, her reflection seemed to be grinning from ear to ear.

"What the fuck is going on…?"

"Such language." the reflection said, but not in her voice.

"Who are you?"

"Thank you for asking more politely." The voice said as the glass rippled like water, parting as a tiny, ichor-black hand emerged, then another, then finally a bright gold, triangular body, forced their way through. "My name is Bill Cipher. You can call me Bill Cipher. Or Bill. Yeah. Bill's good."

"What in the-? What are you?"

"That's tougher. I don't fit in human terms, y'know, so it's hard to describe it to humans." Bill said with a shrug and a sideways glance. "but the long and short is that your boyfriend is on his way here, right now."

"Dipper!? He's coming here?" She had a hint of excitement to her tired voice, but doubt still lingered in her heart. "Wait… how did he know I was here?"

"I told him." Bill said proudly. "And then I came on ahead to see you. I was summoned so I could find you two and take care of you."

"What? That's kinda… did Dipper do that?"

"Yeah."

"When will he get here? How far away is he!?"

"He'll be here in about fifteen minutes, actually." Bill said as he drifted to the window and stared out into the night. Rain was beating against the window, and the deep dark of near midnight concealed a great deal of the streets below. "If we time it carefully, we can sneak out and you two lovebirds will be reunited."

"What about the guard?" Pacifica asked as she looked at the closed door. She suddenly became concerned she would be intruded upon before she could even get close to sneaking out.

"That dope's been sneaking from the mini-bar for an hour now. In a few minutes, he'll have to drain the serpent, or whatever it is you gross meat bags call it in fancy company. That's when we'll leave."

Bill vanished then, leaving Pacifica by herself as she scanned the room in search of him. She looked in the mirror for him, but he was, thankfully, not there. She was desperate to believe the story of her white knight coming to her rescue, but to be frank she was glad the reflection wasn't twisted around anymore. And then, without warning, the door separating her room from where the guard was supposed to be sitting opened slowly.

"Now's our chance." Bill's voice carried from beyond the door. "Come on, we don't have long!"

She followed him out; the room was empty, though she could see the bathroom light on on the opposite end. Moving as stealthily as she could toward the exit, she was thoroughly spooked when the handle jiggled and the portal opened of its own accord. When it revealed no one on the other side, Pacifica swallowed her fear and forced her feet to move. The hall was empty, save for a pale gold sphere of light at the end of the hall.

"This way." Bill's voice called to her, the sphere pulsing with each word before it slipped around the corner.

She followed it to the stairwell, then down and down the fifteen floors to the lobby below. The staff was reduced to its nightshift, a bare bones selection of a well-dressed concierge and bellhop chatting with each other. Down on her hands and knees, she watched the two carefully; she recalled the guard telling the concierge on checking in that he expected the staff's cooperation in keeping Pacifica in the building.

"I won't be able to get past them…" She said in defeat, maybe to herself, maybe to her companion.

"I got this" the disembodied voice answered.

Across the lobby, a disastrous event occurred, at least for the hotel. A crystal chandelier, without warning, without any sign, came crashing down to the marble floor. The terrible noise successfully jarred all the staff available, as well as Pacifica, who nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise.

"Now would be good, beautiful! Run for it!"

She broke into a sprint for the door, not caring that she was tired, not caring that she was plainly visible to everyone, just wanting out. Dipper would be here. He would be here for her. She pushed against the door hard as she crashed into it, nearly knocking the doorman to the ground as she barreled through, and continued her run out into the rainy grounds of the hotel. When she stopped, pausing to catch her breath for a moment…

"Pacifica." She heard Dipper shouting. "Look out!"

She looked up into a set of headlights barreling down on her; she had stopped in the middle of the street without even noticing! Her eyes were open wide as they could go, and in a moment her whole world froze solid. The oncoming car's wheels screeched violently as the driver tried with all their might to stop, the sopping wet asphalt making it nothing short of impossible. She stood frozen, staring at her doom until she saw out of the corner of her eye someone running full speed toward her. Pacifica looked up in time to see Dipper, arms stretched out, shoving her out of harm's way. And fate had other plans for him.

There was a loud crack of metal on flesh, and the sound of a windshield bursting into hundreds of fissures, then the multiple thuds of a rolling body. Picking herself up off the ground, Pacifica already felt in her guts what she thought she would see. Tragically, she wasn't disappointed. In total disbelief, she stumbled towards him, whimpering as rain hammered down on her body. Leaning over his crumpled form, displayed for all to see by the car's headlights, she could only stare.

"Dipper? Dipper?" She spoke softly, running her eyes from head to toe. "Dipper? Dipper? Dipper!"

She shrieked and fell to her knees, gripping his limp arm in anguish, pulling at as she screamed his name over and over. He didn't answer her. He didn't do anything anymore. That, of course, was the problem with being dead.

"No… no, no, no!"

Pacifica fell over his ruined body, blood running over her hands as she cried like she thought she never could. Why was nobody here? Why wasn't anyone helping them!?

"Yikes. Gotta' tell ya', I did not see that coming…"

Bill hovered languidly in the air opposite of Pacifica, staring at the mess the boy had become. If he had a head, he had the look of a man who would be shaking it in disbelief.

"What?" Pacifica said in total shock. "You didn't see this coming!? That's all you have to say for yourself!?"

"Hey, don't treat this like it's something other than what it is. It was just a job. Besides, you're the one who was standing in the street. Thinking about it logically, yeah, this was your fault."

Hearing that, she burst into tears again. He was right. If not for her, he'd still be alive. If not for her, he'd be… he'd be happy.

"We have to fix this" She screamed into the rainy sky. "There has to be something we can do!"

"We can't save him, girly" Bill said right back to her. "Dead is dead, after all. But…"

"But what?" she asked through her tears.

"There's a way to deal with things like this. There are ways to forget him."

· · ·

· · ·

It had been the longest six hour drive of their lives, and nearly all of it was in silence. They had stopped by the Shack for only the most basic reasons, and to leave Soos behind in case of emergency, then made for Portland as fast as the increasingly bitter storm would allow. What little conversation that was had revolved around going as fast as safety would permit, but more importantly the Pines' had deduced that Pacifica would probably not be at the academy until morning. And knowing Preston Northwest, he would have booked Pacifica at one high end hotel or another.

"Dipper." Stan dared to breach the silence. "What's the actual plan?"

He didn't answer as they rolled through the sheets of rain that came down on them, layer after layer of resistance thrown in the way as if through some dire conspiracy of all the forces of nature. After a staring out into the dark, dwelling a moment on the severity of it all, Dipper answered.

"There isn't one, Grunkle Stan. We just can't do nothing."

So they drove onward, Mabel slipping into sleep as time wore on only to stir into waking anytime the lightning reasserted itself, Dipper grinding his teeth in anxiety, Stan holding the wheel tight and not saying a word. Not until they saw the lights over the hill.

"That's gotta' be where she's staying." Stan said calmly. "Morningtide Towers. Super ritz. Stupid. Why do they call it 'Towers' if there's only one?"

The car pulled into the driveway of the hotel, and already Dipper felt like something wasn't right. Stan shooed away the valet when they leapt from the still running car, following his grandnephew in through the doors. Mabel, still shaking the sleep from her mind, stood next to the car and stretched and yawned while Dipper and Stan were met by hotel security almost immediately. Apparently there was some sort of accident, and the staff was trying to clear it up. Weird. Turning back to look out into the rainy night, Mabel's eyes narrowed on someone stumbling around in the dark. She couldn't quite make out who it was, even when she took a few steps out from under the large driveway awning. Whoever was out there, she saw, fell backward suddenly, almost looking as though they were shoved to the ground. Mabel had a sneaking suspicion, and it was confirmed when she heard Pacifica scream in the dark.

"Dipper! Grunkle Stan!" Mabel screamed as loud as she could. "She's out on the lawn!"

She started running, slipping on the slick grass almost immediately, landing face first in the waterlogged soil. Spitting the green tasting lawn water out with a loud raspberry, Mabel saw her brother sprint past in a flash. He ran harder than she had ever seen him run before.

He could see her, barely, in the gloom. She was down on the ground, screaming about something he couldn't quite make out, and handling something he couldn't see through the rain and the darkness. Closer, closer, closer… and then out of the blue, he tripped on nothing at all. Like Mabel before him, Dipper was face down in the sopping wet grass, peeling his face out of the mess in time to see Pacifica not fifteen feet away. She had something to her head… the memory erasure device! The really real one!

"Pacifica…? No!"

There was flash in the dark.