PART 2

Chapter 8

"AHAHA! Oh, you should have seen your face! Priceless!" Bill gloated, doubled over in Stan's body, shaking with laughter as Ford stood there, agape.

This couldn't be real. Bill was supposed to be gone. He was supposed to be DEAD!

"Jeez, you look awful, Sixer. Relax a little, would ya? It's not like anybody's died…" Bill smirked. Ford's nostrils flared as he balled his hands into fists.

"I'LL KILL YOU, CIPHER! I'LL KILL YOU AGAIN!" Ford exclaimed, his shaking growing more extreme as the cold wind froze his wet, muddy clothing to his skin, chilling him to the bone. Bill just laughed.

"Oh, come on now, Fordsy. We both know you won't be doing any killing tonight," he said, languidly stretching out in the hot-spring. "Besides, you wouldn't want to hurt your precious brother, now would you?" Bill raised an eyebrow, a shit-eating grin plastered on Stanley's stolen face. Ford thought he was going to be sick.

"What have you done with Stanley?" he snarled, jaw clenched.

"Stanley's taking a well-deserved 'break' at the moment," Bill said casually, leaning back as he drank in Ford's intense distress. "Anyway, I didn't take this rotting-meat-bag your brother calls a body by force - Stanley shook my hand and let me into his mind, just like you did back in the day." Bill chuckled as Ford sputtered in response, and Bill slowly stood up in the hot water. Ford breathed hard as he reached into his jacket, pulling out his ray gun from his inner pocket and pointing it at the demon. "Whoa, there! I just said you wouldn't want to hurt your brother's body-"

"You're going to tell me everything!" Ford demanded, keeping the gun pointed steadily at Bill as he watched him dry off. Bill rested the towel over his newly acquired shoulders as he laughed, reaching for the pile of Stan's clothes.

"Sure I am! But not because you told me to," he replied snidely, awkwardly slipping his wet feet into the pant legs of Stan's slacks. "How could I, after all, possibly resist regaling you with the tale of the last three, miserable months in the prison that is Stanley's subconscious that you subjected me to?" Bill's head finally slipped through the neck hole of Stan's sweater.

"So you're trying to take revenge on Stanley and I, then?" Ford speculated fearfully, backing up a bit as his now fully dressed, possessed brother started moving towards him. Ford kept the gun raised, his hands shaking as Bill got closer.

"Revenge? No… I didn't do all this work to wrestle control from Stanley just for revenge on you twins, though it certainly would be fun," Bill proposed. He smiled as he continued to move closer to Ford. "Am I making you nervous, Ford? It's just me, your brother!"

"Not another step, Cipher! Or I shoot!" Ford exclaimed, his finger on the trigger. Bill cocked his head and smiled condescendingly, taking another step forward.

"You won't shoot," he replied confidently. "You wouldn't want to actually hurt Stan."

"I have it set to stun mode," Ford informed him, with a slight smirk. "All it will do is knock you out." Bill laughed.

"Thanks for telling me," he said, and he quickly swiped at the gun, knocking it out of Ford's hand before he could even blink, the gun skidding across the ice. With a slight push, Bill knocked Ford over and onto the ground. With minimal effort, Bill pinned Ford down, shaking his head in disbelief at how easy that had been. Ford struggled with what little energy he had left, but it was no use. Bill grinned hungrily, narrowing his eyes. "I've been waiting a long time to do this." Bill's fist collided with Ford's jaw, and he was out like a light.

"Ughh… where am I?" Ford mumbled, adjusting his glasses as he warily took in his surroundings. He was still alive… Had Bill trapped him in a cave? Buried him in the snow never to be seen again? No… he was sitting on something plush, and the air was warm.

"Oh thank goodness, you're awake!" a female voice cooed. Ford looked down to see a seat belt across his lap and a window to his left. A car? He looked ahead to see silver hair peeking out from the car headrest in front of him. It was Helga. Of course!Ford suddenly remembered that Helga had offered to pick Ford and Stan up around 8:00…

Stan!

Ford looked slowly to his right, his brother sitting beside him, silhouetted by the streetlights outside the car window. For a moment, he hoped and prayed that it had all been a bad dream… The car rolled to a stop at the lights, and Helga turned around to look back at Ford.

"Stanford, your brother told me you took a hit from a wild reindeer!" she said in her thick accent, taking a look at his swollen jaw, a nasty purple bruise blooming upon it. "You must get some ice on that when we get back, and let me disinfect your cuts." Ford looked up and down at his arms and legs, his clothes wet and tattered, small cuts shining red against the muck.

"It was horrible," Stan's voice said from beside him. Ford almost jumped at the sound of it - it was his brother's voice, not Bill's! Stan's eyes were closed, shaking his head. "I barely got him out in time." The traffic light changed to green and Helga turned back to the front. As soon as the car started to move again, Stan smiled as he opened his eyes - bright, sickly yellow. Ford gripped the edge of the seat, a silent scream echoing through his mind.

The bastard had Stan's voice down to a science.

"So rare that people are attacked unprovoked… terrible," Helga said as they turned a corner. Ford's eyes shot back to her headrest, his mind racing at a hundred miles per second. "Did you at least find what you were looking for in the spring?" Bill smiled as Ford sat there, frozen. "Stanford?"

"Uh, yes…" Ford said slowly, trying not to sweat under his puppeted brother's glare, "and something… else,as well." Bill stifled a laugh.

"Well, at least something good came of it," Helga said, her eyes steady on the road.

"I just hope there's some some of your amazing stew left! I'm starving," Bill said in Stan's voice, not skipping a beat. The two of them began to chat away, like everything was normal, while Ford sat there like a statue. From the look of the landmarks outside the window, they were, at best, five minutes away from the inn.

Ford rapidly considered his options. It's not like he could tell Helga, or anyone, that his brother was being possessed by a psychotic dream demon. If anything, she'd think Ford had hit his head harder than they'd all thought. Saying something like that in public could land him on a no-fly list, which was not an option.

It was nauseating enough to think about flying home with Bill at his side.

Ford's first priority at the moment was to tell the kids what was happening, without Bill catching him in the act… There was a computer in the common room that Ford could use to get in touch with them once everyone in the inn had gone to sleep. He wasn't very good at using the interweb yet, but Dipper had shown him how to use video-messaging software before they'd left. This was the kind of news that had to be delivered face-to-face, as dreadful as that seemed. He'd just have to be careful sneaking down to the computer - if Bill caught wind of it, there'd be serious consequences for all of them, and Ford could only speculate on what Bill reallywanted from him.

Helga pulled into the gravel driveway. She went to open Ford's door, but Bill insisted, in his perfect Stan grumble, that he take care of his brother. There was no question of who was in charge now. Bill had Ford right where he wanted him, and they both knew it.

Brossi, the couple's sheepdog, had been growling at Bill since he walked in the front door. Arthur put it up to Stan smelling like an angry reindeer, and set off to make the twins each a warm cup of tea. While Helga applied disinfectant to Ford's wounds in the kitchen, Bill slipped away to the washroom for a moment of respite. Plus, he actually hadto go the washroom - this long-term possession thing was going to take some getting used to.

Before he dealt with that issue, however, he decided to check inon a certain somebody.He rolled his eyeballs back into his head, turning his attention inside.

Stanley was just as Bill had left him - unconscious in a heap on the floor, and imprisoned in the same, electric-blue triangular cage Bill had trapped him before. This time, though, Stanley Pines was very much alone. For good measure, he'd also shackled Stan's ankle to the floor. It was a look, Bill found, that really suited the Pines twins.

Bill looked about the mindscape prison, admiring his handiwork. He'd finally been able to remodel the space to take on the appearance of the Fearamid. He'd even reassembled his massive throne of frozen-human-agony, even if it technically wasn't 'real' anymore. The new set-up suited him much better than the tired walls of the shack he'd been limited to before.

It seemed like so long ago when he'd thought those walls, and Stanley Pines' face, would be the last things he'd ever see… until he'd found himself alive, if only by a thread. Xolotl could be such a drama-God, making Bill do all the work like that. Not only to piece himself together, but to piece together every damn one of Stanley's memories, charred and nearly destroyed by the fire. If he neglected a memory before it was recovered, he'd feel himself fading away. Manual labor inside the mind of his killer, in exchange for an imprisoned life without meaning: seemed like a rip-off to him.

Then, suddenly, he realized that good old Xolotl had given him a golden opportunity. Escape was possible, perhaps, with Six Fingers' help, and in the meantime, he'd be able to satisfy his lust for revenge on the Pines twins - perhaps bothsets. If he failed, however, he'd be bonded to Stan's subconscious forever. Demons weren't meant to persist inside someone else's mind for long periods of time, not to mention one with a soul alreadyresiding in it. Bill could practically feel the clock ticking - if he stayed in there much longer, he'd be absorbed.

It wasn't much of a choice.

Stanley stirred from sleep, Bill refocusing on his tenant. Stan's leg yanked against the heavy chain in reflex as he awoke. His eyes shot open and darted around, as if he'd suddenly remembered what had happened, and that it hadn't all been some horrible dream. Bill had seen it a million times - that look of realization, the grip of fear, as his pawns suddenly grasp just how screwed they really are.

Humans were so predictable.

Stan's vision hazed, his blood running ice cold as he struggled to take everything in. This felt too real to be a nightmare, and yet the surroundings were the same. Once again, Stan found himself in the triangular cage, its nonsensical pattern glowing so brightly that it was making his eyes water. Once again, Stan found himself trapped in the Fearamid, its murderous red light filling him with dread, both familiar and terrifyingly new at the same time. The crisscrossing steel beams marking the walls should've been covered in frost, it was so frigid in here… or maybe that was just him.

And that's when he saw it.

Stan stared up, horrified, at his own, possessed eyeballs, bright yellow and with slitted pupils, staring down at him. They were the size of UFOs, set into the sinewy, flesh-brick wall before him - the wall where the tapestries of his friends had once hung all those months ago. Bill's eyes creased upwards as he smiled sickeningly.

"ARGHH!" Stan cried as he attempted to lunge at them, pulling at the heavy chain as if it would break under the sheer force of his will, but it didn't budge. Stan grimaced as it actually tightenedagainst his ankle. "You're a monster! Let me outta here or I'll…"

"You'll WHAT?"Bill taunted him, his giant, possessed eyes flashing blood red, casting a bright beam against the cage with Stan's fez symbol blackened like a pupil in the center. Stan resisted the urge to shrink back, squinting against the light as he fearfully held his ground.

"I'll… I'LL…" Stan realized he didn't have an answer to that question. Ugh! Why'd he always have to be so stupid?! If he hadn't been so damn stupid he wouldn't havegotten himself and Ford into this mess in the first place! How could he have not seen all the signs, all the pandering to his ego? Not to mention those stupididentity questions - of courseBill would've known the answers! Bill had been stuck in his subconscious for three months, what else was Bill gonna look at except all the stupid memories that heprobably saved? AndFord… he could just imagine what the demon was going to put him through, and there wasn't a damn thing Stan could do about it... He sighed, angry tears budding in his eyes as he sunk down to the ground, defeated, trying to at least get comfortable on the hard stone floor.

"You're done, then?" Bill asked cockily, the room returning to its regular state of eeriness. Stan simply nodded. "Good. Here, have a pillow as a reward." A small, yellow pillow suddenly materialized before Stanley, squeaking as it landed on the ground by his feet. Stan eyed it cautiously, before finally deeming it wasn't a threat. He promptly snatched it up and scooched it under his butt, sighing with instant relief. "So, you gonna thank me for that, or what?"

Stan stared at the giant eyeballs in complete disbelief.

"Oh, excuse my terrible manners!" Stan started off, a cheery smile marking his face in mock apology. "Thank you sooomuch for IMPRISONING ME inside my OWN MIND, and giving me a freakin' CUSHION to sooth my SORE, REAR END!"

"Fine, no pillow it is," Bill said nonchalantly, and it disappeared with a faint *snap.* Stan's face fell as Bill made his exit, his eyes rolling forward in his skull. "LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA TRY AGAIN LATER."

Someone was knocking on the bathroom door.

"Five minutes!" Bill answered in Stan's voice, staring at the toilet and trying to figure out how in the hell this thing worked…

The stairs creaked as Ford and Arthur made their way up the stairs, Ford's arm sloped over Arthur's shoulder as he tried to avoid stepping on his injured leg, bandaged and treated by Helga for what had felt like an eternity. He winced as the two men transitioned to the flat ground of the top floor, Ford's room just down the hall.

"I can take it from here, Arthur," Ford managed, shifting his weight onto the banister. Arthur didn't look convinced, but nodded anyway as he turned to go back downstairs.

"If you need anything, just call down," he said, smiling kindly as he saw him off, Ford hobbling down the hallway. "Góða nótt!"

"Góða nótt!" Ford returned, waving goodbye and forcing a smile as he reached the doorway. The stairs creaked as Arthur's shadow disappeared down the winding steps. As soon as he was out of view, Ford swiftly shut the door and locked it, quickly finding himself wishing that there was a bolt on the door as well. His breathing quickened as he slid down onto the floor, gripping his knees to his chest.

Bill was in the house. If Ford refused Bill what he wanted, Bill could threaten Helga and Arthur... He could cut off one of Stanley's fingers just for fun. He could…

"You're not very observant, are you, Ford?" said Bill, the lamp in the corner clicking on to reveal Stanley already comfortably seated in the adjacent armchair, a cup and saucer balanced on his lap. Ford gasped as he scrambled up against the door, banging his head on the wood. Bill snickered. "I mean, really -you'd think after all that ducking and dodging from the law in-between dimensions for thirty years that you'd be a bit better at scoping out the area you sleep in!"

Bill waited for a reaction - a frightened retort, a movement for the window, anything… but he didn't get one. Ford simply stared at him, swelled-up shiner and all, his gaze hardening as he looked away and sighed.

"What do you want, Cipher?" he asked, tired. Bill arched a brow, setting his saucer onto the nightstand and crossing one leg over the other.

"Skipping the bargaining stage and moving straight to depression, are we?" he inquired, resting his head in his hand, his elbow perched on his knee. Ford shook his head, letting out a small disdainful snort.

"We both know there's no bargaining with you," Ford replied bitterly.

"You've got a point there, Sixer," Bill chuckled, wagging his finger, still to no reaction. He crossed his arms. "Gee, you're really bumming me out here, Ford. You're not very much fun when you're like this."

"You think I should be having fun?" Ford replied forcefully, suddenly whipping around to face him.

"Aaand we're back to stage two!"

"Enough!" Ford exclaimed, hushing himself a bit so no one came upstairs. "You could have killed me back there if you'd wanted to. You never change, Bill - I know you want something from me, and I'm guessing it's to get you out of my brother's mind." Bill reached for the saucer again, smiling to himself as he set it on his lap.

"Glad to see you're following the bouncing ball," Bill said, taking a careful sip from his teacup. "Yes - that's exactly what I want from you, Fordsy. I suppose my trail of proverbial-bread-crumbs was enough for you to figure out that the gateway out of Stan's mind is ruined, and that's why I have the immense pleasure of still being here." Ford swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I want details," he said simply, the world numb as he met Bill's gaze stoically. Bill grinned, excitedly rubbing his palms together.

"Oh, finally! I've been just itching to gloat all about how gullible your brother was when I…"

"ABOUT THE DOOR!" Ford seethed. Bill laughed as Ford's face twisted in anger - hilarious! Ford squeezed his eyes shut, composing himself as best he could, and continued. "I… I want to know why the gateway was so damaged, but not Stan's memories." Bill looked down, briefly swirling his tea.

"You may be aware of a little incantation I thought of in the heat of the moment, literally," Bill recalled, painfully, as he remembered the searing heat of the blue flames, biting at his ankles. He shook away the memory - useless. Ford nodded curtly as he recalled the backwards message Stan had told him about - the one that mentioned Xolotl. "It saved me from death, and I, in turn, saved Stan's memories! You know, speaking of which, you really should be thanking me for…"

"Stay on topic," Ford said sternly, narrowing his eyes. Bill sighed. No fun at all...

"Unfortunately, I was a bit too late to save the first thing to go up in flames - the portal out of Stanley's mind. It's nothing but ashes now..." Bill concluded, swirling the last bit of his tea before downing the rest.

"So you want me to create some kind of device that can get you out, I suppose? An artificial gateway, of sorts?" Ford asked bluntly.

"Specifically one that will take me back to my dimension," Bill clarified, raising his index finger in the air. Ford scoffed, shaking his head.

"You must think very little of me if you think that after everything you put my family through, the whole TOWN through, that I'd give you a golden ticket home," Ford said, his gaze ice-cold as he stared through the demon. "Just so you can try your luck on some other naive scientist who you can persuade to do your dirty work for you, only for you use them to try and take over the universe again. Yeah, right."

"Oh please, I'm DONE with your stinking dimension. Too messy, too many people in my way," Bill answered, glancing downwards as he thought back, bitterly, on all his hard work that had gone straight down the toilet."I'll try my luck in some other dimension, one where your family doesn't exist and can't stop me again..."

"And subject another dimension to your idea of freedom? I don't think so," Ford responded. Bill forcefully set down his saucer on the bedside table, pushing himself off the chair. Hands clasped behind his back, he turned towards the window, the northern lights cascading over the hills.

"You know, for a fellow inter-dimensional criminal as notorious as yourself, I didn't think you'd have such a problem with letting me escape so I can take over another dimension you have no part of, in exchange for your brother's life," Bill said. "I thought Stan was a little more important to you than that…"

"Of course he is!" Ford protested, leaning against the door as he slowly stood up, grimacing in pain. "But I'd be responsible for the misery of millions, even billions of people! What kind of psycho do you think I am?!" Ford exploded, balling his fists at his sides.

"Hey, you're already responsible for the misery of millions of my followers who're mourning my untimely death!" Bill said, turning to Ford with his hands over his heart. "Anyway, you're forgetting that you're not exactly in a position to barter with me. I don't have to give Stanley's body back, you know…" Bill said slyly as Ford's face fell. "Heck, I could run off with this body right now and commit atrocious crimes under Stanley's name! And there's no way you'd ever see him again..." Bill smirked, his eyes electric. Ford clenched his jaw, thoughts of Stanley never coming back, trapped forever in his own mind flashing before him. He couldn't… he wouldn't let that happen. Bill had played him for a fool… no, he'd been playing them both right from the beginning.

"I never even had a choice, did I? Stanley and I are just your hostages," Ford spat.

Bill chuckled dangerously as he turned on his heel and started walking towards to Ford, who immediately backed up against the door as Bill's footsteps fell heavily on the wood-paneled floor. Ford's heart-rate skyrocketed as Bill slowly got closer and closer, his brother's body silhouetted against the ethereal, ever-shifting green light streaming through the window. The demon stopped right in front of the terrified man, raising his hand to Ford's eye level, as if he was about to strike him. Ford resisted the urge to cringe, staring brashly into Bill's yellow eyes, daring him to do his worst.

Bill brazenly patted Ford twice on the cheek, the man instantly recoiling from the demon's touch. Bill smiled at Ford's immense discomfort. Now this was more like it.

"Aw, cheer up, Fordsy!" Bill said, finally backing off to Ford's immediate relief. "This is gonna work out for both of us! I get to escape from this flesh-prison, and you get your beloved brother back! All we have to do now is get back to Gravity Falls," he finished, plunking himself down on the edge of Stanley's bed. Ford's eyes widened.

"Absolutely not!" Ford shot back. There was no way in hell he was going to endanger the kids by bringing their possessed Grunkle home for Thanksgiving. "I'll build it here, out of the materials from my inventions back in the cave. I'll need to stay up and make blueprints tonight…"

"Hey genius, I think you're forgetting a pretty big detail here," Bill interrupted him, rolling his eyes. Ford looked to him, confused. "The weak spot between our dimensions is in Gravity Falls, remember?"

Ford's stomach sunk like a stone. Bill was absolutely right. The only place they'd be able to do this would be back in his workshop, underneath the shack…

"I'm going to have to postpone Thanksgiving with the kids…" Ford grumbled, and sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "If I do this, and get you back to you own dimension, you have to promise not to lay a finger on Dipper and Mabel, or me, or Stan, for that matter," he said threateningly. "Or the deal's off."

"Ugh, fine," Bill sighed dramatically, sticking out his non-flaming hand as per usual. Ford stared incredulously at him.

"I'm not shaking your damn hand, Cipher!"

*** Author's Note ***

HIATUS OVER! And ohhhhhh man was it FUN to finally let Bill outta the cage he's been festering in! Hope it was worth the wait :)

Also, I'm kinda freaking out cause the story reached 1000 hits! Thank you guys so much! 3

So we're looking at a 1 and a half - 2 week schedule for chapter releases, depending entirely on how busy I get in the upcoming weeks, which I suspect is going to VERY. I will try my best though!

As always, please leave your comments below! I read em all and respond to em too! Thanks again, and "sEE yOU rEAL sOON."