Hey all! Hope you had a good week. I did! My brother drove me up to LA yesterday and we watched the last live taping of the show The Soup. It was great, especially since I've been watching the show since I was 10 and it was cool to watch it live, even if it's getting cancelled after next week. Anyway, that's why I'm a bit late in posting; I'm very tired from the two hour drive last night.

So! The chapter! I have no idea what you all will think of it. On one hand, things get furthered. On the other hand, it's not the good kind of furthered, just yet. Do not worry, though! Things get much better next chapter, trust me. Well... depending on what your definition of 'better' is, but it's not as bleak as this chapter.

Also; this chapter is different than any other. It's set partially in flashback, since that was the only way I could get this chapter written. Anything in parentheses have already happened, Dipper is just remembering them. Kind of awkward, but better than repeating everything we went through the past several chapters, with Dipper's mistrust.

And that's all. Thanks for all of your reviews and comments. They mean the world to me. :-)

Enjoy!

Dipper sat in his cell and shuddered, his mind racing and his heart on fire. He felt like he couldn't breathe and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to again. His back hurt, his mind hurt, but most of all, his heart hurt.

And it was all that demon's fault. That horrible, terrible, demon.

Dipper gritted his teeth and leaned his head back against the wall of his cell and tried his hardest to forget about everything. He didn't want to remember. He was angry. He was furious. He was confused and scared.

Oh, that demon. That monster. Dipper… Dipper hated him. With all his heart, he knew he hated him. He had to hate him, after what he had done to him. He glared at the wall, his body shivering uncontrollably, as thoughts of what had happened, how this had happened, bombarded him. He didn't want to, but it invaded his mind like a plague, like a poison fog.

It had been five days since that day. Since he had attempted his escape, since he had last seen the sky and felt the cool ocean breeze on his face. Since he had had the illusion of freedom. Since his back had been whipped, beaten until bloody and painful.

Most of those days had been taken up by healing. The pain he had felt upon waking up that first morning still made him shudder whenever he thought of it. It had been fire on his back, torturous in its intensity. He still didn't know what exactly had happened that night, the memories hazy with pain, but he remembered getting seven lashes on his back, strong and painful. At first, when he had initially woken, he had thought he could remember gentle fingers in his hair, calm and soothing, healing. Now, though, he was pretty sure that that was just something he had imagined. His mother had used to do that when he was a young child and sick, so it wasn't unlikely that his mind had imagined it to help him through his pain. Besides, who exactly could have done it? Bill? He may act gentle, but even he was incapable of that level of care. Especially after his cruelty. Dipper was sure of it.

Once his mind had properly waken, sharp as it possibly could be given the situation, he had found himself barely able to move. He had been trapped, forced to stay lying on his stomach as his back burned. It had been misery, torture. He had hated it, hated how trapped he had felt. He had spent hours upon hours lying on the ground, his only company the shadows he could see from his position.

He had gotten fed that afternoon, though, which had proved a bit of a distraction. He honestly hadn't been sure if he would still have that 'privilege'. A new pirate, big and bulging, was in charge of bringing him his food now. Dipper had noticed that the pirate didn't bring the keys into the cell with him when he had had to enter it to bring Dipper's food directly to him. Smart, he had thought, even if it was detrimental to him. It was probably on the captain's orders, that they couldn't allow him anywhere near the keys. It made sense.

Once the pirate had left, Dipper had been alone again and had nearly gone mad with inactivity. Time moved weirdly with the pain he felt. He wasn't sure if it had been slower than usual, or if he had just been perceiving things wrong, but it had been mind-numbing. He may have passed out once or twice, he wasn't quite sure, but it had been agony to sit through.

But that night. Oh, that night. He had been so tired, in so much pain. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything. His mind was so numb he couldn't have thought even if he had wanted. When the door to the brig had opened, he had almost felt relieved. Something, anything. But then he had heard that too familiar voice. And he had felt afraid...

(Dipper was lying on the ground, trying to control his breathing. He could hear the demon walking around the cell, had heard his voice let out a chipper, though oddly subdued, 'Hello Pine Tree.' He could see his shadow move across the wooden floor, could feel the dull thuds of his footsteps.

"Why are you here?" He heard himself ask, afraid. The demon let out a soft, mirthless laugh in response.

"It's my ship. Why shouldn't I be here?"

Dipper shuddered at the imitation of words, cruelly reminding of the night he had almost believed this monster to be human.)

Dipper hadn't liked the captain, then. He had feared him. Hated him. His actions the night before had reminded him cruelly of what he was, and of what Dipper had almost believed. His back had burned from those lashes, his mind had stung from how wrong he was. There was no good in Bill, he had seen that.

As he had laid, helpless on the ground, he hadn't known what to do. He couldn't run, couldn't escape. The demon had every advantage and Dipper knew it, and hated it.

("Go away. I don't want you here." Dipper whispered, his breathing heavy as he stared at the captain's boots. He could hear a dark chuckle.

"Who are you to command me, Pine Tree?" The demon asked, shifting his feet. Dipper gritted his teeth and tried to look up, his back protesting immediately, causing a soft mewl of pain to escape his lips. The pirate shifted again, anxiously.

"I don't want you here. You're a monster."

Another chuckle, darker than before.

"Yeah, I am. But you're mine, kid, so what are you going to do about it?"

Nothing. He could do nothing about it, and the captain knew it. Dipper shivered as that thought settled in.)

The demon had sounded so smug, so much like he was gloating. Dipper had felt his teeth clench, rage and anger in his mind, but he could do nothing. He could only lie there as the demon stared down at him. Admiring his handy work, he had assumed.

But then he had moved. And Dipper hadn't been able to breathe.

(The movement was sudden. One second all he saw was boots and legs, and the next he could see the demon in all his glory, eye sharp, mouth frowning lightly. Dipper had felt his eyes widen as he tried to back away. He was unable.

"Relax, kid. I'm not going to hurt you."

Yes he was. He already had.)

And then… that demon had reached out, had tried to touch him.

Dipper hadn't been able to flinch fast enough.

("Don't touch me. Don't you dare touch me." He whispered, glaring at the hand inches from his back. He could see the demon's face freeze, eye burning as it stared at him.

"Why shouldn't I?" The demon whispered back, his face so intent. Dipper shivered.

"You don't have the right.")

But the demon had been insistent. Had ignored his demand, had tsked and continued on. He had grabbed his arm, pushed him down so he was lying completely flat. Dipper had struggled as best he could, but it hadn't been enough. Bill had been too strong.

And while the demon hadn't attacked him, hadn't done as he had feared; had actually done what Dipper hadn't thought he would and had given him medicine, it still hurt. And Dipper had still been afraid.

("Stop!" He screamed, his back on fire. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see. The medicine burned him. No hands were in his hair- it had been a dream, of course there weren't hands in his hair- and there was no comfort. Just the demon and his now ruthless healing.

"You'll die if I don't, kid. Someone's got to do it."

Maybe death would be better than this torture, he thought as tears escaped his eyes.)

And then Bill was gone. No parting words, no mockery. Just applied the medicine, bandaged his back, and left.

Dipper hadn't known what to think as he laid there, after Bill had gone. Hadn't known what it meant, why he did it. Bill was likely right, he'd die without medical attention. But why him? Why would he have tried to heal him, so soon after harming him? It had confused Dipper, like the man was wont to do.

Several days passed after that. Dipper slept a lot, his body using most of its energy healing his wounds. When he wasn't asleep he was glaring at the walls, feeling that itch in his mind, the itch for freedom.

And everyday Bill would be there. Dipper had begrudgingly felt his anger and fear cool off as the time passed, as his wounds healed and his mind grew more and more bored. After the third day Dipper had been able to sit up as long as he didn't lean against anything and he would stare at the demon as he moved through his cell, wondering even though he didn't want to. Wondering why the captain did what he did. He contradicted himself and Dipper hated it more than he hated anything.

He could still feel his fear and anger simmering under the surface, though. Whenever he saw the man, whenever the demon touched him. It flared and waned at random, sometimes an inferno, sometimes no more than kindling.

It didn't help that the captain grew gentle again. Dipper hated it when he was gentle. It confused his mind, made him think charitably of the man, his only real source of human contact. And he cringed as he thought of the things he had started to feel, started to believe. Hated them like he hated everything else about the stupid pirate captain.

(His hands were warm, he thought absently as he stared at the wall. They were gentle again, no longer ruthless and rough like they had been the first time he had applied medicine to his back. Perhaps Bill's anger had cooled.

He was muttering things to him. Soft things, words of no substance. Dipper didn't even know what the man was saying, but he felt soothed. He let out a soft moan as the pirate ran a hand over a particularly sensitive spot on his back, causing the man to pause.

"You alright, Pine Tree?" A soft voice whispered warmly in his ear. He shivered.

"Yeah." He breathed back.)

But all that pain and confusion had never truly went away. Bill confused him more then than he ever had. And it had driven Dipper mad.

And as everything does, it had to blow up eventually.

Dipper groaned and hit his head back against the wall. He picked at the shirt he was wearing again, which settled unpleasantly over his healing scabs, but was better than the nothing he had been wearing. He had almost forgotten just how cold it got down here. He could feel his anger and troubled thoughts mount, though, as he thought of how he had acquired this shirt again, thought of what that demon had done to him earlier that day.

The day had started off like normal. Or, as normal as his life was now, at least. He had woken in his cell, the new make-shift pillow he had found in his cell the morning after the beating beneath his head, before sitting up. At first, it had been a great relief to be able to do so, allowing him a marginal amount of freedom even if he hadn't really been able to stand yet, but at that moment he had starting to grow restless again. And agitated.

A prisoner. He was still a prisoner. He hadn't succeeded his attempt for freedom, and he was still, always, trapped. For the first time since his escape he had thought of what exactly he had failed at, and it left him upset.

He missed his sister. Terribly. She was his best friend, the only thing he had left of his old life. She was everything to him, and he missed her with an intense ache. As he had sat and stared at the wall, his heart aching, he had felt resentment fill inside him. Thick and potent it invaded his mind and he could barely see from his grief and upset.

He knew, then, as he had always known, always feared, that he would never leave this ship. Not, at least, with his freedom. He had tried and look what it brought him. And it hurt to think. To believe. That he would always be a prisoner, would always be trapped. Would always belong to that monster. Would never be free. It festered in his mind and nothing he did could make it cease.

And Bill. Bill. Always, always Bill. He was always there, always lurking behind the dark corners in his mind. Like an illness. Like a plague. Like the damn darkness he was, like a sickness he couldn't get over. He had trapped him, had taken control of him, had beaten him and left him. And then he healed him, spoke softly to him, acted like he cared. Like Dipper mattered. Why?! Why did he keep doing that?! His thoughts had mounted and his anger had raged, and when he had seen Bill that night, when Bill wouldn't stop looking, he had exploded and Bill had reacted, and…

And so perhaps that was his fault, he conceded silently as he stared blankly ahead, his anger waning a little as he thought. Perhaps it was him who had fanned the flame, who had caused the conflict, leading to what the man had done. But nothing could excuse what had happened, and he would never be able to forget it.

(The captain was staring at him. Always, always staring. Dipper could feel it, could feel the spotlight on him and he felt wrong inside. He hated it.

This man had hurt him. Had taken him prisoner, had trapped him, and had hurt him. He acted like he was better, like he perhaps cared, with the way he acted, the way he spoke, but he didn't. He didn't care. About him, about anything. His eye was always so large and curious and full of darkness and Dipper hated it. Hated it.

Bill moved closer to him and he jerked back. Couldn't let him touch him, not this time, never again. His back was better now, it was healing. Bill didn't need to put more herbs on it now, he didn't.

"You back to being a skittish colt, sapling?" The captain asked, head cocked as he stared. Dipper bared his teeth.

"You don't need to help me anymore," he gritted, "I'm fine now. You can go."

He didn't want him to touch him, not again, not after those too charitable thoughts he had been having. His hands were too warm, too gentle. He couldn't touch him, not again. Not again. Monsters had no right being so warm and gentle, not after being so hard and cruel. No right.

A dark, high-pitched laugh. Dipper hated that laugh.

"You still think you can order me around, Pine Tree?" The demon questioned softly, a wry grin on his face. "You forget that you are mine. And that you have no say on what I do."

He wasn't his. Wasn't. Dipper was his own, had always been his own. Bill had no claim on him and he knew this. Bill always said he was his, but he wasn't. He wasn't.

"No. No." He whispered. "You don't… you don't own me, you have no claim on me."

"Don't I?" The captain mused, before kneeling. Dipper felt a hand ghost down the side of his face, felt himself shudder with disgust and something that wasn't disgust and he hated it. Hated it.

"N-no." He breathed, turning his face away, looking down. He couldn't breathe, with the captain so close. He hated him. Despised him. Why was he sitting so close? Dipper didn't want him to be so close. Didn't.

"You're wrong, Pine Tree. I own you, like I own everything on this ship. You are mine, all mine. And if I want to touch you," a hand grasped his cheeks, turning his face so he could see the captain's, a gasp sounding from him, "I will.")

Dipper buried his head in his knees, tears in his eyes. He didn't want to remember what happened next. He wanted to forget, to go back to how everything had been before.

But he still remembered. And he would always remember.

(No. Dipper stared into that golden eye, open and dark and sincere, and he refused to let him win. With a snarl, he slapped the hand away and pushed the captain away from him with all his might. He couldn't stand him being so close. Too close.

"No!" He screamed, feeling frantic as he looked at the now sprawled man in front of him, shaking with emotion. He could see anger and indignation filling into the demon's eye, but he didn't care.

He didn't care. The demon had hurt him, thought him as little more than property. He was a human, a human being. Bill had no claim to him. None. He wasn't going to forget that. Wasn't going to… to allow himself to fall into the demon's insanity. He wasn't.

"No?" The demon snarled, still sprawled, his chest heaving. Dipper shook his head frantically.

"No. You. Do not. Own me. Do you understand?" He hissed, his own chest heaving. "You will not touch me, you will not even look at me if I don't want it. You are a monster, the vilest demon I have ever had the displeasure to meet, and I won't let you trick me. Not anymore. I refuse."

That dark chuckle. He watched, warily, as the demon threw his head back, his chuckles evolving into full on laughter, as mad as the man who was emitting them. Moments passed, the only sound that insane laughter, before the demon looked back up with a dangerous and sharp grin on his face. Dipper shuddered despite himself.

"Has the boy finally become a man?" The demon mused, shifting, sitting up, eye trained on him. "Has he finally grown a pair and decided to stick it to the big, bad monster? Gotta hand it to you, kid. I'm impressed. You're brave, I'll give you that. Brave, but dumb."

He was so calm. Too calm. Dipper bared his teeth as the demon stood, as he came closer. A beat passed, Bill simply staring down at him. Dipper refused to show fear, glared calmly back, jaw clenched.

Then. He felt the pain in his back flare, felt arms wrap around his shoulders and yank up, felt himself get pressed against the wall, felt his healing back scream in agony. A face was right next to his, a leg between his, a chest pressed against his bare one, so close Dipper didn't know where he ended and the demon began. Closer than he ever wanted, closer than he could deal with. His heart was pounding, his back was throbbing, and he was so, so afraid. And another emotion he didn't want to think about.

"Your bravery won't save you, though." The demon whispered in his ear, a sinister undertone in the words. "I own you, Pine Tree. You deny it, you turn away, but you have been mine from the moment you set foot on this ship, saving that sister of yours. Accept that, little sapling, and perhaps things will go easier for you here on out."

"N-no. Never." He hissed back, his legs weak from pain, his mind blank from proximity. Bill just chuckled again, pressing, impossibly, closer. So close. He could feel the other man's heart beat, could taste the salty sweat on his skin. Lips trailed against his cheek up to his ear, making Dipper's eyes flutter shut despite himself.

"And here I was, thinking you were intelligent. What a pity."

Hands were touching him, small movements on his skin and he wanted to cry. Wanted to lean in. He felt so wrong standing here, held up by a demon of a man, his stomach rolling. He felt a forehead touch his, causing his eyes to open minutely, even as he wanted to keep them closed to ignore the man who was so close, dangerously close.

"You are mine. Do you understand that, Pine Tree? Mine." The man breathed, so softly, barely a hint of sound. "And I will do whatever I want with you.")

Dipper let out a soft sob, not wanting to remember. He hated that demon. Hated him so much. So, so, so much. For what he did to him. For how wrong he made him feel. For everything.

(A moment of time passed, and Dipper felt afraid. Those words, the undertone. It almost made him believe the man, the demon, both. Like he wasn't his own anymore, like he truly did belong to this insane monster. He wanted to shake his head, to deny, to rebel, but before he could, he felt chapped lips press against his own. And then no thought remained.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't the coming together of two souls, so much in love they needed to find some way of expressing it. It wasn't like those fairytales he had heard, it wasn't true love's first kiss. It was hard. And painful. And wrong. And he hated how much he enjoyed it.

Bill was insistent against him, pressing against him until he was nothing, his lips like a force of nature, taking all and giving none. He felt sharp teeth bite his lip almost savagely and he gasped as the coppery tang of blood filled his mouth, alongside a wet and warm tongue. It moved against his own, taking, taking, always taking. He wasn't his own, in that moment. In that moment he was Bill's, solely, truly Bill's. And he let out a soft, high pitched mewl as he stood, frozen, allowing the man to take. He didn't move against him, didn't respond. He just stood, leaned against the wall, and gave in.

When the man was done, when he was satisfied his point was made, he pulled back, red blood smeared over his mouth. Dipper could only stare at it, shivering in the man's false embrace, odium and shock spreading through his veins. Red blood. His blood. His lips hurt and his heart hurt and he could taste blood in his mouth.

He could feel the demon shuddering against him, heaving breaths in, before a wide, false grin spread across his face. Dipper abhorred that grin with every fiber of his being. His teeth were sharp, yellowed from prolonged alcohol abuse and reddened from blood. He was like a wolf, Dipper thought. A wolf, a demon, a monster, a beast. Taking what he wanted, no thought of consequences, no care for others. No care for him, for what he felt, for how he made him feel.

"So don't forget that." Bill finished, voice only the slightest bit tremulous. He was released then and he felt himself crumble to the ground, not even minding the pain in his back. It was better than the pain in his heart, in his mind. Better than facing reality.

He saw something get thrown onto the ground in front of him a moment later and he raised his head to look at it. He didn't want to but he needed to focus on something. Anything.

He felt the slightest hint of amusement as he saw his old shirt, the one his sister had gotten for him, the one with that blue pine tree on it. It seemed like ages ago that he had been on shore with her, laughing and having fun. So much had changed. He had changed. That demon had changed him, goddamn him.

The demon said nothing as he turned and walked away, closing the cell with nary a backwards glance. Dipper didn't care. He didn't care what that monster did, he didn't. Didn't. Didn't

He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, hating how exposed he felt, how his nerves felt like they were on fire. He shivered and tried to forget.

And he hated. Oh, did he hate.)

And now he sobbed. Anger was there, but so was grief. Not for his sister, not for his great uncle, but, for the first time, for himself. For what had become of him, for what Bill had done to him. For what he had done to himself, with his thoughts and his speculations and his stupid, stupid curiosity.

He hadn't thought this would happen. Didn't know a man could feel this way for another man. Not love, love was nondiscriminatory, love he could, sort of, possibly understand. But he didn't love Bill. He knew he didn't, knew that what he felt was not that magical feeling his parents had always spoke of, his sister always spoke of. It didn't make him feel like he was floating, it didn't make him feel giddy, it didn't make him act like a fool. No, instead he just felt wrong. Like he was wrong, like he was dirty. Like he had been infected by a disease.

He wanted Bill. He wanted his touch, his hands, gentle and warm. He wanted to feel them on his skin, and it was wrong, and he hated it, but he didn't know what to do. He realized now that he had felt this for a while, since that day in the brig, with the man so close and so human and so… Bill. Maybe even before. He had ignored it, had pushed it aside, but it had always been there, lurking in the back of his mind. Maybe it was why he had run, why he had wanted so badly to escape. To be free, free from that stare, that touch, that feeling. It was wrong, he was wrong. He was disgusting.

He choked on his sobs at the thought, gripping his knees tighter, hating himself nearly as much as he hated Bill. That demon may have caused this, but Dipper had fallen for it. Hadn't stopped it, hadn't nipped it in the bud. He let himself fall in… in lust with a manic, insane demon, and now he couldn't forget the feeling of warm lips against his own, of those hands gripping his hips, his sides, gentle where his lips were cruel. Couldn't forget, could never forget, would always, always remember. How sick he was. How wrong he was. How perverted he was, to ever think that way about a pirate. About a man.

The tears did not cease that night. He cried until he eventually passed out, his back aching, but his heart aching worse.

And Dipper knew as he slipped away that he had descended into Bill's special form of madness. That he would never be safe again.