Chapter two, dudes.
Insane: I am FUDGING posting this chapter . . . screw it, you're uploading it :D
Also, I'll be away in Colorado and California til Monday (?) so . . . don't do anything weird to the fanfic 'cause I got my eyes on you . . . O.O
Monty: HA! I posted it! Eat your words! (Also, please don't kill me at school tomorrow…)
The ordinary night cycle went by without much event. As usual, Dipper found his toothpaste far too minty, while the other boys roughhoused and fought over who got to use the shower first. Eventually a counselor came in and refereed the mess, leaving the young detective to find his way out of the washrooms and into his bed. He would not be taking a shower that night.
Fifteen minutes passed where Dipper was in peace, reading out of the old journal he had found in the woods. He had brought his blacklight with him, and was eagerly reading the hidden messages in a page about unicorns. However, his blissful silence was rudely interrupted as eight other boys entered the cabin, laughing and hollering cheerfully.
"Dude, did you see how far Chris spit his toothpaste?"
"Yeah, that was insane!"
"But you, like, threw your toothbrush into the toilet!"
"I didn't mean to, dude, I swear. I was just trying to brush my teeth while taking a pee."
Dipper muttered and shoved the blacklight under his pillow, along with the journal itself. He quickly pulled out an old mystery novel, The Sibling Brothers and the Case of the Caper-Case Caper, his great-uncle Stan had sent with him, and started reading halfway through the book. The other boys didn't take much notice of him, and started bouncing off the walls the moment the counselor left with a warning that lights-out was ten o' clock.
Even though he had read the book three times already, Dipper couldn't process a paragraph of words with the shouting and whooping going on outside and above his secluded bunk. He looked out from under the top bed and watched the boys having loud conversations and miniature contests in different areas of the cabin. None of them had changed into what anyone would call pajamas, just T-shirts and boxers.
He retreated to the tiny amount of space he was to occupy for two weeks. Dipper slid under the covers, despite the uncomfortable warmth and humidity of the night, and tried to fall asleep. Soon, the voices died down to excited whispers, but the intensity and thrill of the conversation had not gone down one bit.
Dipper decided to switch tactics. He started to open up to the muffled conversation, hoping the blended voices would eventually lull him to sleep. However, there was one boy who was standing above the rest, and the young detective could hear every word he said as clear as day.
"Did you see that blond hottie at dinner?" the excited whisper came. Dipper heard the muddled agreement before another boy spoke up.
"She really wasn't the eye-catcher, though. How about the redhead the next table over? She was smoking!"
"Nah, the blond one was better," the dominant boy disagreed. However, his comment was shot down by another voice that Dipper recognized as the hefty boy who had spoken at dinner.
"Totally not, dude. That girl that Dipper was sitting next to totally, like, takes the cake," he breathed. This time, the voices that replied were mixed.
"Are you kidding? That girl was a total airhead!"
"He's got a point, though. That smile…"
Dipper perked up his ears completely. They were talking about his sister! And no question about it, the conversation was getting a little less than appropriate in his eyes.
"How about that ass? I wonder if that's why she wears skirts like that…"
"Nah, she's really not that hot…"
"Are you kidding me, dude? I'd do anything to get under that sweater!"
"Totally agree with you there, bro. Wonder how she'd act if you tried to make a move on her?"
Dipper's eyes widened, first with surprise, then disgust. How dare they talk about Mabel like that? It was gross, and wrong, and they were at a summer camp for spirit's sake!
The young detective listened in silent horror as the conversation carried on. "Probably wouldn't do much," the hefty boy answered. "You were right, she is an airhead, but that's sometimes a good thing…"
"No kidding, dude. I bet she's easy."
"Definitely. You know what? I think I'm going to try to talk to her tomorrow."
The boys hooted and wolf-whistled, clapping the boy who had spoken on the back. "Go for it, bro!"
Dipper couldn't take anymore. He slid out of his bed, unnoticed by the other boys in the darkness, and nearly ran out the door. He raced down the path, stopping briefly to look at the cabin Mabel currently resided in.
Is she safe there?
He took off again, running for the bathrooms. Bursting through the door, he closed himself in one of the stalls and sat on the toilet seat, letting his head fall into his hands. I'll just wait here until they're done talking about my sister… Or, even better, until they just go to sleep and forget about those poor girls…
Dipper sat in the stall for what seemed like hours. When he finally started to make his way back up to his quarters, he could clearly tell it was well after lights out. A bit of guilt flooded through the boy, but he snuck back into his cabin without trouble.
The rambunctious cabinmates had dozed off. Dipper walked to the other end of the cabin and looked at them, unable to fall asleep. The words of the other boys echoed through his mind hauntingly. He started pacing back and forth on the floor in his socks.
"Gahh!" He flopped down on the bed and groaned quietly.
What could he do? He needed to convince Mabel not to do anything rash, but he knew deep down he would have to face it. When it came to love, Mabel was still the same boy-crazy girl she was four years ago, flirting with any guy who caught her eye. Thank goodness she had gotten pickier about things like that.
He covered his eyes with his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, letting his hat fall off the other side of the bed, listening to the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. His fingers unconsciously traced over the points of the Big Dipper birthmark on his forehead.
"What am I going to do?" He whispered to himself out loud as he stared at the wooden ceiling.
Suddenly the room turned a tainted red and the ticking slowly came to a stop. "Huh?" He sat up quickly, looking around the room.
A familiar echoed maniacal laugh, "Well, well, well." One of the lights on the ceiling gained a pupil and blinked, its gaze moving until it landed on Dipper. It blinked again, and Dipper could see the faint outline of a yellow triangle begin to appear. The warning bells in his head went off, only to find his body paralyzed with shock.
Dipper watched as the form of his adversary materialized directly in front of him. The paralysis seemed to wear off for a split second, and the young detective backed away hastily, feeling his back hit the wall.
Bill Cipher laughed. "Looks like your sister's got some admirers," he remarked, rubbing two tiny fingers together.
"H-hardly," Dipper stuttered, trying to sound sarcastic but ending up afraid.
"Ha. You know what, kid? It looks like you could use some help here," Bill began. "You know, keeping your sister's "innocence" and all."
"Please don't say it like that," Dipper winced.
"You know what I mean. Anyway, I'm totally willing, Pine Tree, if you want to make a deal."
"L-like I need any help from you," the young detective muttered. "Besides, what would you even do to help?"
"Oh, I don't know, how about beating the sanity out of any boy who tries to take advantage of her?" Bill offered, widening his eye threateningly. "Never leaving her side for a second, but yet she would never know?"
Dipper was silent. As much as he hated to admit it, Bill was tempting him greatly.
"She wouldn't be in any danger," the demon continued. "And it's not like any of her unfortunate fans would perish. They'd just be in a psychiatric ward for a few months, that's all."
"I… don't know," the 16 year old replied uneasily.
Bill paused for a moment. "Imagine the consequences," he finally advised.
Dipper considered for a moment. He could feel himself flinching at every thought that flickered through his head, and he realized his body was going limp. He really was worried about his sister. Though he would never say, the last comment Bill had made really hit below the belt.
The young detective uttered something below his breath, reaching down and picking up his hat. His fingers scratched his skull as he placed it back on his head.
"Didn't quite catch that, kid," Bill taunted. His tiny hand flickered with an electrifying blue flame.
"I said fine," Dipper grumbled. "But if you hurt my sister, I swear, you'll pay for it!"
"Relax, kid, I'd never harm a hair on Shooting Star's head," Bill laughed, holding out his hand.
Dipper stared dubiously at the extended appendage, flickering with azure fire. He closed his eyes before reaching out his own fingers and grasping Bill's tiny hand in a handshake.
Dipper would one day look back on the situation, of all that passed in those days. Though he would sigh and glare at many moments, this was the ultimate one, the chosen one, that would make him facepalm and mutter about the "stupidest decision of my life".
In the moments that followed the handshake, Dipper felt an otherworldly sensation. Everything suddenly felt… lighter. His hand tingled as he felt Bill release it, and he suddenly felt his stomach doing flips as though he were floating. He opened his eyes and stared down in disbelief.
His bunk bed was several feet below him, and as for his body…
Bill stared up at Dipper, a smirk on his face. "And who could get closer to Shooting Star than her own brother?"
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