This is a long one. Be prepared!
Usual warnings for language and such.
Dipper's eyes fluttered open and for the first time in several days, he didn't feel the need to force them to open. He was laying on his back, the blanket pulled almost up to his chin, gazing up at the attic ceiling. He blinked slowly several times before turning his head to the side to look for his alarm clock. The clock-face blinked "9:04am" slowly back at him.
"Three hours." his brain helpfully supplied. Roughly three hours since Bill had carried him from the lawn and up to his room. He vaguely remembered Bill placing him into bed before saying something about his pajamas being ruined and roughly man-handling his grass-stained, white shirt off of him before tucking him back into a clean grey one. For whatever reason, Mabel had seemed completely undisturbed by the struggle taking place on the other side of the room.
Dipper pushed his blanket down onto the middle of his stomach and brought both hands up to rub the sleep from his eyes. His hands fell back heavy by his sides and he flexed his fingers against the sheets as he took mental stock of his body. With the exception of his foot, he couldn't feel any pain anywhere.
"It makes it harder to run away," Dipper grimaced. "It doesn't seem like running helps me much anyways."
He sat up in bed with a grunt and sat crisscross beneath the blanket staring blankly at the wall near the door. He didn't feel nearly as tired as he thought he should have - likely Bill's doing he assumed - but he didn't particularly want to get out of bed yet. A few minutes later he finally became aware that Mabel hadn't been in the room when he heard her footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hall.
He shook his head quickly and rubbed his eyes one more time before the bedroom door opened and Mabel entered with plate in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other.
"Good morning," she said almost cautiously as she crossed the room and sat on the edge of his bed.
He gave her a soft apologetic smile. "I don't see any eggshells in here Mabel, no need to walk on them."
"I should have spat in your food." She snorted as she thrust the plate into his hands before setting the juice on the nightstand. "You seem better this morning. Sleep well?"
"Yeah... the water helped." He paused a moment, a debate raging quickly in his mind. He looked down at his plate of sausage and eggs before shaking his head and looking back up with a small smile. "And today is a new day."
She stared at him silently for a moment before giving a hesitant smile of her own. "You're awfully chipper this morning." She let out an uncomfortable laugh as she shifted on the bed. "It's actually kind of freaking me out."
Dipper took a bite of his food and chewed it slowly. He cocked his head to the side with a confused look. "Would you rather I be sullen and irritable?" He asked sarcastically. "Because I can do that if that is what you want?"
Mabel snorted out a laugh and shoved him lightly in the shoulder. "Oh shut up." They were quiet for a minute as Dipper ate another couple of bites before reaching for the glass of juice. When he turned back to his sister, Mabel was looking back at him with a confused expression. "Did you change clothes?" She asked after a moment.
"What do you mean?" Dipper warily looked down at himself. "I can't leave you in these dirty clothes, darling," His mind not-so-helpfully supplied.
Mabel leaned forward just slightly and lowered her voice. "You were wearing a white shirt last night."
"Leave it to you to memorize my wardrobe," Dipper chuckled nervously. "I spilled water on myself. Didn't want to sleep in a wet shirt." He did his best to sound convincing.
"Uh-huh..." She stared at him a moment more before getting up and crossing the room to her own side and flopping backwards onto the bed. She let out a heavy sigh and flopped her arms out wide next to her. "I have to run into town later for some groceries. Need anything while I'm there?"
Dipper took another bite off his plate, finishing off his eggs. "Do you have a list going already?"
"No. Gonna make one when I go downstairs." She kicked her legs idly over the edge of the bed. "Stan already asked for more peanut butter. He left earlier this morning to go... somewhere. I don't remember. I wasn't listening."
"Alright..." He thought for a moment, polishing off the rest of his orange juice. "I wouldn't say no to some chocolate pudding, since you're offering." Mabel stuck one arm up in the air with a thumbs up before flopping it back down onto the covers. "You sure you don't want me to go?" Dipper pushed the blanket off his lap and swung his legs over the bed to stand up. "You seem kind of tired."
Mabel sighed again, sitting up. "No, I'm fine. I'll go. I need some stuff anyways."
"What kind of stuff?" Dipper chuckled. He grabbed the empty glass off the night stand and stacked it onto his empty plate.
"Girl stuff," Mabel said blandly. She stood up and lightly shoved Dipper out of her way when he chuckled at her. "I'll take a nap when I get back."
He stood up behind her and followed her towards the bedroom door. "You and me both, Mabes." He passed by her as she held the door open and gave her a lopsided grin. "Maybe we can snuggle."
"You're so weird." Mabel pulled a face at him before she continued down the hall. She stopped at the top of the stairs and reached for the dishes Dipper was carrying. "Give me those, limpy, it's painful enough watching you hobble down the stairs without the risk of broken glass."
"If you insist," Dipper scoffed but allowed her to take his dishes. She went down the stairs in front of him and he leaned on the bannister to walk down on his heel. "You mind getting me some ice for this? Since you're going to the kitchen anyways."
"Yeah, sure. I was going to suggest that."
Dipper turned at the bottom of the stairs to head towards the living room. He stopped when Mabel called to him from the kitchen doorway. "Mind putting the TV on for me?"
Dipper made a sound of acknowledgement and continued towards the living room. He dug around in the couch cushions for a moment before finally located the remote. He clicked the TV on before flopping heavily onto the couch with his face buried in the pillows. After a moment he heard a faint chuckle followed by the sound of Mabel settling into the armchair beside him. He listened as she scanned through the channels before arriving at a channel showing some crappy 80s horror movie and leaving it there.
Dipper lifted his face from the cushions and looked over at the TV. He wrinkled his nose and looked over at his sister. "Why are you watching this?"
"I dunno," Mabel shrugged, "nothing better on."
"Anything is better than this," Dipper huffed before planting his face back into the couch. He shot back up with a shout when Mabel suddenly dropped a bag of ice onto his back. "What was that for?" He snapped. He turned onto his side to grab the bag before sitting up and pressing it gently against his sore toes.
"You're being mean," she snorted out a laugh.
Dipper winced slightly at both the pain and the cold. "Wonder why," he grumbled quietly. He heard Mabel chuckle again and he rolled back onto his side to watch the TV screen with a blank expression. After a few more minutes of silence Dipper let out a long, dramatic sigh and sat back up. "This really is genuinely terrible on every level."
Again, Mabel snorted and rolled her eyes. "Go somewhere else then, this is what I'm watching."
"Fine then, maybe I will," Dipper laughed back. He stood up and limped towards the hallway. "I'm gonna go sit outside, let me know when you're done with the TV."
He vaguely heard the creaking of the springs in the chair behind him and paused in the doorway. "Are you... sure that's the best idea?" Mabel's voice came behind him. "I mean, after all the last time you went out... y'know?"
Dipper didn't turn to look at her. He gripped the door frame hard and stared at the point where the baseboard meets the floor across from him. "She doesn't know about last night." He breathed slowly. "She doesn't know. How could she know? She doesn't need to know any more than she does already." He took one more slow breath before calling over his shoulder, "it'll be fine. Promise."
He was fairly certain he heard Mabel begin an objection but he continued walking down the hallway anyways. "After all, it doesn't seem to matter if I'm inside or outside." He pushed the front door open and caught it before it slammed behind him. He glanced around the empty lawn before setting himself down on the couch and propping his foot up to press the ice-pack back onto his toes. "The further I am from her when he comes, the better."
At this point, Dipper figured it was a safe assumption that Bill would show up sooner or later. It would be safer for both of them if she stayed away.
He leaned his head back against the tattered cushions and stared out at the lawn. It was dim and overcast and smelled like rain. A soft breeze rustled the grass and the leaves of the nearby trees and Dipper took a deep breath of the cool air. He felt the goosebumps raise on his skin and briefly contemplated going back inside to grab a jacket. After a few more minutes, the cold was more than he could take and he stood to head back inside. As he stood, the boards creaked beneath his bare feet and he tossed the ice-pack up and down in his hand as he shuffled towards the door.
"Dipper..." It was a whisper, half-hidden by the wind.
He froze beside the couch, listening intently.
"Don't you fucking dare," he hissed out slowly through gritted teeth.
He gripped the ice-pack tight in his hand and stood completely still. Other than the rustling of leaves across the grass he heard nothing more. He waited a moment more before turning almost mechanically to look behind him. Dipper let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding once he concluded there was no one there. "Maybe he actually listened to me for once," he thought sarcastically and turned back around.
He pulled the front door open, stopping in the doorway to glance back once more, before stepping through the threshold into the hallway. The door slammed shut behind him, causing him to flinch and he sighed.
"Dip? That you?" He heard Mabel call down the hallway.
"Yeah." He set down the ice-pack on the hall table and reached for a dark blue fleece jacket that was hanging on the back of the door. "It's cold. I was just grabbing a jacket. Your movie done yet?"
She poked her head out of the living room doorway and smiled brightly at him. "Is it raining?" She asked excitedly without answering his question.
"Huh?" He shucked the jacket on and zipped it about halfway up. "Uh, no, I think it might though."
She thrust both arms up in the air and gave a small "whoop" before ducking back into the living room. She emerged moments later and thrust the TV remote into Dipper's hands as she pushed past him towards the door.
"What're you so excited about?" He scoffed, nearly dropping the remote. "It's just rain."
She flung open the hallway closet door without answering and began to rummage around quickly. She stumbled backwards onto her butt as she snatched out a pair of bedazzled, hot pink rubber rain boots and tugged one of them onto her feet. "I'm gonna-." She paused with a grunt as she pulled the other boot on. "I'm gonna go splash in the puddles." She stood up and snatched a matching pink raincoat out of the closet.
Dipper watched her curiously for a moment. "What puddles? It hasn't started raining yet?"
"Duh." She rolled her eyes and grabbed her keys and wallet off of the hall table. "I gotta get the shopping done first so I can splash in the puddles later."
"Ah... Okay then." Dipper looked down at the remote in his hands and passed it between them a few times before looking back up at her as she pulled the screen door open. "Don't forget my pudding." He shrugged and rolled his eyes before turning and walking towards the living room.
He heard the front door slam shut behind him as he entered the room. He clicked off the TV before tossing the remote onto the couch and shuffling towards the kitchen. Through the kitchen window he saw Mabel's old blue station wagon pull off down the driveway as he dumped the ice into the sink. He threw out the plastic bag and walked back through the living room towards the hall.
He slowly made his way up the stairs and to his bedroom, shutting the door behind his as he entered. A yawn slipped through his lips and he stretched his arms above his head while walking over towards his desk on the left side of the room.
The desk was a relic that they had pulled out of Ford's lab a few summers ago. The wood was splintered and worn, littered with scratches, burns, and marks along its length. One of the legs had a shoddy repair job done to it at one point that caused it to be shorted than the other three. Dipper had propped the leg up with an old encyclopedia to prevent the constant wobble. It was cluttered with books about runes, astrology, and cryptids, binders overflowing with loose papers, pencil shavings, broken pens spilling ink onto the wooden surface, and countless scribbles of notes, maps, and monsters that Dipper had amassed over the years. Some of them were Ford's while others done by his own hand. One of Wendy's old blue flannels was draped over the back of the chair, forgotten there the last time she had visited when she came home from college.
Dipper slumped down into the chair and groaned as he rolled his stiff shoulders. He took a moment to push aside a stack of books and papers, catching it as it almost toppled over, and made a clear space at the center of the desk. Scratched roughly into the very center of the dark wood was Ford's six-fingered hand symbol. Dipper placed his own hand in the center of the mark. The symbol dwarfed his own hand his size. He slowly drug his finger's across the rough wood and let out another soft sigh.
"What would you have done, Ford?" He mumbled quietly as his nails scratched against the surface. He lowered his head down onto his arms and stared at the mark until his vision became unfocused. His eyelids felt heavy and he blinked slowly. He reached a hand behind himself and pulled the flannel off the back of the chair, balling it up and pillowing it between his arms. A long yawn slipped out and he shut his eyes, feeling the soft scratch of the fabric against his cheek. It smelled like firewood and pine needles.
The room was silent for a long time before Dipper heard the soft pattering of rain beginning to hit against the attic window. He opened his eyes slowly and turned to face the window. From across the room he watched the steady trickling of rain drops as the clumped together and fell in fat drops down the window pane. He smiled softly to himself. "Mabel will have plenty of puddles later," he thought to himself.
He sat up straight with a groan and stretched his arms above his head once more. He pulled his chair closer to the desk and reached over a stack of old parchment to flick on his desk lamp. He ran a finger down the spines of a stack of books before selecting one from the pile at random. The golden text emblazoned on the worn red cover read "Ghouls, Ghosts, and Demonic Hosts" in a curling font.
He let the book fall open in the middle and thumbed idly through the pages with his cheek resting on his knuckles.
He had read this book before - several times - it was one he had purchased at an antique store two summers ago. It was hand written and bound together with care. He did not know exactly how old it was, but the condition of the pages lead him to believe it was likely quite old. The book contained the accounts, drawings, and pictures of the author's experiences with the paranormal. It was one of Dipper's favorite bedtime reads, even though a few of the stories gave him the creeps.
He stopped on a page with a large header that read "Cases of Location-Based Poltergeists." Underneath the header was a black and white photograph of a battered farmhouse with its roof caved in near the top that was pasted onto the page. Under the picture was a faded caption that, at one point, identified the location. Dipper ran his fingers along the tattered edge of the photograph as he studied the photo. He thumbed absently through a few more pages that contained stories, descriptions, and pictures.
A large crack of thunder made him jump and turn towards the window. The rain had begun to come down harder, pelting the window with each drop. He watched the window for a moment. From where he was sitting he could see to tops of the nearby trees being tossed about in the wind, outlined by the steadily darkening sky. "I guess the puddles will have to wait."
Dipper let out a short, heavy exhale and turned back towards the book. Another low rumble sounded from outside as he began to flip through the book once more. He arrived at a new section with the header "An Exploration into Demonic Infestation" in smudged, curling font.
Beneath this header was a rough ink drawing of a tall figure. The lines of ink had been roughly scratched into the page, creating indentations on the page behind it. The figure in the drawing was standing in a doorway, silhouetted as a dark, slim, smear of a shadow against the yellow of the page. It's face was gaunt and nearly featureless except for the gaping blackened mouth that yawned out from its face.
Dipper shuddered.
The picture always gave him the creeps.
Another flash of lightening sent a crack of thunder through the air as he thumbed through the stories in this section. He stopped several times to skim through the different accounts and look at the pictures pasted onto the pages. Another loud boom quickly followed the first.
Dipper looked back towards the window once more. The trees were being whipped violently by the wind as it whistled through the air. The raindrops pelted the window with small thudding sounds, falling in thick sheets outside. After a few moments he turned back to the desk and turned a few more pages towards the back of the book.
The small header on this page read "Demons of the Mind." Beside the heading was a rough, scribbled drawing of the eye of Horus. Other smaller eyes were scattered around the page. There was a short paragraph following the header that was written in runes rather than in English. At one point, Dipper had translated the runes onto a sheet of scrap paper, but he had since misplaced it and forgotten what the page had said.
It had always intrigued him - this page - it was the only one in the entire book that had been written in another language. He had always wondered why.
Even more mysterious to Dipper, was the bottom right corner of the page. Or, rather, the lack of it.
The bottom corner had been torn out neatly in a square. The only remnant of what had once been written there was the faint impressions on the blank page behind it. After this page, the book abruptly ended. 27 blank pages remained at the back of the book. Dipper had counted once, wondering why the author chose to end on this story with no epilogue or conclusions following it.
He forced one of the desk drawers open and pulled out a portable black light. He flicked it on and shone it onto the page. It wasn't the first time he had done this. And just as he had found before, there was nothing to be revealed by the light.
Another, louder, boom of thunder startled Dipper from his thoughts. His head snapped towards the darkened window just as his desk lamp flickered a few times before it went out with a click.
"Oh great..." Dipper groaned and turned to press the switch on the lamp a few times. It did not turn on. He sighed and stood from the chair and walked towards the door. He flicked the switch by the door a few times, reaching the same result as with the lamp. "I guess the breaker tripped," Dipper thought.
He opened the bedroom door and looked into the hallway. It was darker than his room which had the window to help illuminate it. He could see almost to the landing of the stairs in the dim light. He vaguely made out the shape of the bannister as it was lit up from down stairs by the flashes of lightening outside. Dipper limped back to the desk and rifled through the drawers until he found his small camping flashlight. He flicked it on and off experimentally before flipping it in his hand and walking back to the hallway.
As he flicked the light back on he pulled his phone from his pants pocket and sent Mabel a quick text.
"Don't hurry back. Power out."
He walked slowly to the stairs as he dropped the phone back into his pocket. He felt it buzz once - then twice - and assumed she had responded.
He used the bannister to help his way down and stopped at the bottom of the stairs when he heard the faint sound of dripping water almost covered by the pounding rain outside. Another flash of lightening illuminated the landing as he swept his flashlight around the room. He listened hard and began to walk towards the kitchen where the sound seemed to be coming from. He rounded the doorway into the kitchen and was struck by a wave of cold hair.
"Shit."
The kitchen window had been left open. Water was pooled on the floor and was dripping down the wall beneath the window. He set down the flashlight and hurried across the room toward the window. He hissed from the cold when his bare feet hit the water pooled on the floor.
"Damn it, Mabel. What'd you have the window open for?" He grumbled to himself as he slammed the window shut. He grabbed a few of the kitchen towels that were laying around and dropped them onto the puddle half-heartedly. He returned to the flashlight and continued down the hall towards the electrical closet. He pulled out his phone and sent Mabel another text.
"You left the kitchen window open. Water is all over, ur cleaning it." He followed it up with an angry emoji.
Mabel's typing bubble appeared almost immediately. "I didn't open the window." A brief pause followed by: "doofus."
He paused just outside the electrical closet door and looked at her message. He furrowed his brow and cast a glance back down the dark hall towards the kitchen. "Then why..." he mumbled to the silent hallway. Another loud boom of thunder startled him from his thoughts and made him nearly drop the flashlight. He caught it and shook his head at himself derisively.
He pulled hard on the doorknob - the door always stuck unless you yanked on it - and a cascade of dust fell down through the empty door way. He coughed and waved a hand in the air before moving the flashlight into his left hand and shining it up and down the wall looking for the metal electrical panel. He found the latch and pulled it open with a loud creaking sound. He ran a finger down the labels beside the switches before finding the one he was looking for and flipping it to reset it. He waited a moment, but the lights did not come back on. Another flash of lightening cast the hall in cold light for a moment.
Dipper let out a heavy sigh. "Must have been a power line then... just have to wait it out," he thought glumly. He closed the electrical panel and pushed until it clicked shut.
As he pulled his hand away to walk back down the hall, he froze.
Burned into the metal door of the electrical box was a triangle.
Dipper stumbled backwards, his back slamming into the wall behind him. His hands shook as he angled the flashlight towards the mark. The mark had not been there before, he was sure of it. The edges of the shape were charred and bubbled from heat, black and grey soot seeping out from each rough line.
He clenched his teeth. Hard.
"No," he gritted out slowly into the empty hallway. He waited a moment, half expecting a response. None came other than another booming rumble of thunder that echoed in his chest. He reached out with a shaky hand and slammed the closet door shut. The sound of it startling him even though he had expected it to come. He turned away the moment it was shut and trudged back down the hall with his eyes trained on the beam of the flashlight. He couldn't bring himself to look back down the hall.
As he rounded the corner he once again heard the sound of running water. He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and looked back to the window.
It was open. Beneath the window frame, scratched roughly into the wall - as if with fingernails - was another triangle.
"Go away!" He yelled it this time.
He crossed the kitchen and slammed the window shut with force. He turned around and faced the dark kitchen, his shadow stretched across the tile floor as the storm raged outside behind him. The sound of the storm was deafening as it mingled with the rush of blood in his ears. His throat felt thick and his lungs as if they were filled with cotton. His eyes scanned the empty room as he felt the cold water squish beneath his feet. He was panting rapidly, the flashlight gripped deathly-tight in his hand.
"Leave me alone you sick son of a bitch!" He screamed into the empty room in front of him.
He half expected a response.
There was none.
At least, Dipper thought so, until he heard the loud slamming of a door from down the hall he'd just come from and he jumped. Dipper turned the flashlight to point towards the darkened hallway door. From where he was standing he could only see a few feet into the hallway before his view was blocked by the door frame. He inched forward along the edge of the kitchen counter and reached his hand around in the air for a moment before finally tearing his eyes from the doorway to look for what he was searching for.
He found the edge of the knife block and pulled out the large chef's knife from the top of the block. He felt the weight of it in his hand for a moment and adjusted his grip before turning back to the door.
Another flash of lightening illuminated the room and the hall for a moment. Dipper almost swore he saw the outline of a person at the far end of the hall in that split second, but his flashlight saw no one.
Dipper grit his teeth, shook his head slowly and began backing away from the door, his back pressed hard to the edge of the countertop. He kept his eyes glued to the darkened doorway until he reached the door at the other end of the kitchen that led into the living room. He only looked away when his injured foot hit the foot of the couch and he swore loudly. The flashlight fell from his hand onto the thick carpet, went out, and rolled away.
"Mother fu-!" the rest of his swear was drowned out by a loud boom of thunder. He fell backwards onto the couch and gingerly rubbed his toes with his free hand. After a few moments, and a few more grumbled swears, he looked up to grab the flashlight from the floor.
He clenched the handle of the knife in his hand subconsciously and stood up slowly, eyes scanning the floor slowly. He saw the vague outline of the flashlight near the foot of the coffee table and dropped down onto his knees to grab it. His hand found it and he flicked it on once. Twice. He shook it and tapped it against the knuckles of his other hand. It didn't turn on.
Dipper puffed out a groan. Without the light of the flashlight, the storm outside provided very little light. He tossed the flashlight onto the couch and dug his phone out of his pocket to flick on it's flashlight. It also did not turn on. He tapped the button hard a few times, swearing under his breath. Another flash of lightening lit up the room for a moment before his phone screen flickered suddenly and he felt a shock run through his hand.
"Shit!" He dropped the phone as his hand jerked. It tumbled down onto the carpet and he knelt down and felt around for it in the dark. "The hell was that?" He mumbled as he grabbed around for the phone. When he finally found it he immediately dropped it once more. Slowly, he forced himself to pick it back up again. The screen was completely black, aside from the image of another triangle flashing bright yellow right in the center. In the middle of the triangle, in rough, black, scratched out letters were the words, "see you soon..."
Dipper stared at the phone screen wide-eyed for a moment before throwing it hard back onto the floor and scrambling back to his feet. He stumbled to the living room door, panting hard, and fell into the wall as he rounded the corner for the stairs. A loud boom of thunder shook the building and he tripped on the first step, falling hard onto his elbows and knees. The knife tumbled out of his hand and lay beside him on the steps.
"Leave me alone!" Dipper screamed as he crumbled on the steps. He felt hot, angry tears sting at his eyes and his knuckles clenched white beside his head. He sucked in a few heavy breaths. He felt his heart in his throat and was worried he might puke. "Just..." his voice cracked as he whispered towards the floor, "please. Just leave me alone."
The thunder rumbled low outside, booming in his chest as he heaved in air with tremendous effort. There was no sound other than the steady thrumming of Dipper's heart in his ears and the steady rumbling of the storm outside.
"I like when you beg."
The voice turned his blood to ice in his veins. Dipper didn't move. He didn't need to.
"No," he hissed out slowly. "No, no, no," he repeated it over and over again until it turned into a scream. He still didn't move, staying with his forehead pressed to the wood of the stairs. "Leave me alone!"
He heard a low chuckle from somewhere behind him. "Didn't you like our little game? I can't leave now, we've only just started playing."
Dipper turned fast onto his back, bracing himself against the stairs with his hands. In the dim light, he saw Bill standing a few feet away in the center of the hallway. His hands were hidden in the pockets of his dark, torn jeans, his head tilted slightly to the side. When Dipper turned, Bill smiled his toothy smile.
"I don't want to play your sick game!" Dipper screamed back at him. He was breathing hard, his body ached with the effort of supporting himself.
Bill smiled fondly and clicked his tongue with a small tsk. "Sweet thing, don't you listen?" He cooed. A flash of lightening cast a shadow across his face. "I don't care what you want."