"Grunkle Stan, you've been hugging us for like, ten minutes."

Dipper's observation only made the old man tighten his grip. "Yeah, well. You ran off and Bill showed up. I was a little worried." He glanced down at the suspiciously still and quiet Mabel. "What's goin' on down there, Mabel? You haven't said a word."

"Mmmmmf," she replied, face muffled by his black blazer.

Winter, Summer, Wendy and Soos were at the other end of the living room, all seated at the round table while the Pines' reunion stretched on. The identical twins were just as unwilling to talk as his great niece. "Even you?" Stan asked the silent redhead. "Somebody say something."

She just glanced away with a tight-lipped frown. After returning to the shack, Mabel had demanded Dipper tell her what she missed in a fit of guilt and fury – and she'd been quiet ever since hearing it. Soos heard that conversation too. It left him rattled. "You dudes don't think she... 'cause man, that is messed all the way up."

"What else could biological containment of magic mean?" a drooping, paler-than-usual Summer replied. "We'll try to talk to her when we get back. I just want to make sure the kids are okay before we go."

"Dudes, don't even worry. I totally got this." Soos flinched as they all stared at him.

"Isn't it kinda your fault they ended up at the airport in the first place?" the redhead inquired.

"No, no, that's both our faults," Stan said loudly as he kept on hugging. Mabel spoke a few quiet words that made him look down at her for a moment. "Hey, you two need to get home and help that girl. You might be her only chance."

"I'm coming with you," Dipper added, struggling to free himself from Stan's burly arm. "Mabel, you stay here and rest, okay?"

"You ain't goin' anywhere, kid!" He broke the embrace to loom over him, hoping to impose his will. "What you will do is stay here and help me keep an eye on your sister."

"But Grunkle Stan! Whoever wrote the journals worked for the government! I gotta talk to the girl we rescued. She might know the author – maybe they can help us figure out if any other portals are active and-"

Winter, hunched over and deep in thought, denied him with the frigid bluntness Stan could not. "Your sister needs you. You're staying here."

"But!"

"Let's be off." She got up and left with Summer right on her heels, not uttering another word until she was out of the Mystery Shack and nearly to the red Audi. "I'm not sure I'm ready to talk to her."

Summer had nothing to add but a slight nod. Just as they closed the doors, Wendy rushed up to the front passenger side window, yelling "Hey, hey guys! Wait up!"

"Maybe you should stay too," the red-eyed woman advised after lowering the glass. "Winter and I want to do this one ourselves."

"No, I totally get it. I just... I just wanna go home." After stepping back and fiddling awkwardly with her hair, she added "I told Tambry to face it. I'm not even facing it, you know? I can't stay scared of... of me forever. I have to go back. I mean, if I can handle it there, I can handle it anywhere. Right?"

Her nervous laughter made Winter's expression soften. "It's a good idea to try. Get in."

The twins didn't bother sticking around at the Corduroy cabin; they simply dropped Wendy off and were on their way. Their minds were too occupied to attempt small talk. After a silent journey home, Winter helped her sister along via a one-armed hug to the front door. Here they found a piece of paper taped to the door. Someone had left a note. Not a request for a visit, as would be the case from time to time since they became famous. Instead, this letter consisted of seven simple words.

Keep going. I'm watching you.

– A Friend

"What is this?" the blue-eyed woman asked, causing Summer to look up. She scanned the type again. "Watching us? Who?"

Having nearly reached her limit, Summer hissed her displeasure and stood straight. "I thought we were done with the damn spying." She too re-read the note. "A friend... someone in the Society?"

"Perhaps... but it would be simpler for them to contact us outright," she surmised, plucking the note from the door. "This is too easily misunderstood. I don't think they would risk provoking us. Not with what Preston knows." More typed text on the back caught her eye. "There's more." What she read made her eyes grow wide. "'Please find some way to give her mercy'."

"Wasn't that written on the vault?" Summer asked, blinking with surprise. "Who would—only someone with access to the facility would know those words."

"Yes. Someone around here must have worked in the project, but I have no idea who. It's not like we've gone out of our way to meet people." The concept of unknown observers – whether or not they were friendly – added anxiety to an already dour emotional stew. Somehow there was an even bigger issue than that. "They would have to be able to feel her magic to figure out she was free – and be familiar with its spark. There might be another one of us running around with magical detection."

Summer rolled her eyes with a groan. "Oh, how fun. Another secret to throw on the pile."

The twins stepped inside, glancing every which way as they went. The granite box was in the far right corner where Summer had left it, undisturbed. As they stood around it, neither woman could make themselves open it, or even touch it. "What do we do now?"

Uncertainty sounded odd coming from Winter's lips, but the red-eyed woman felt exactly the same way. "We could let her sleep..."

"She needs our help."

Summer hugged herself and looked away. "I—I'm worried about what we might find. And if we change her back and something happens to her, where will her magic go? What if Bill Cipher gets it somehow?"

"Good point – but she heals like we do. If she contains enough magic to do that, she might..." Winter trailed off, ejecting a rope of black from her left palm. It wiggled in response, its end darting about as if looking at its mistress and Summer. "Perhaps we have more sisters than we thought." The ebony tentacle retracted back into her palm with a sickening noise. "Forget it. Let's get this over with." With her magic, she lifted the lid and allowed the air to fill with the soundless chorus. Ignoring the transformed bugs in the box, she retrieved the pineapple plushie and motioned for Summer to follow her to the bathroom. Once there, she set the plushie in the shower and closed the glass door. "Arm yourself. We don't know what we're dealing with."

This meant allowing two long, black blades to slide out from her palms, which she closed her fingers around like swords. "Okay."

Winter did the same with her right hand, keeping her left free to snap. The woman unfurled, crawled to a corner, and curled into a ball – but didn't scream. At least, not at first; a few seconds passed before her anguished wailing started anew. "It's all right," she called through the door. "We don't want to hurt you." Whether she didn't hear or didn't care, the woman kept on shrieking. "I might have to gag her."

The sound had Summer visibly distressed, but she nodded acknowledgment and got ready. "Go ahead. I'll cover you."

In Winter went, dismissing her awful weapon as she crouched down. Their shaking captive was face down, curled into the tightest ball her body would allow and screaming into the black and white tile. Unsure what would happen if she touched her directly, Winter instead used the black gunk to make contact first. When it hit the woman's skin she instantly fell silent. "Oh. Hello? Do you understand me?"

"Why did she stop?" Summer asked, looking down from over her sister's shoulder.

"I'm—wait." Falling still, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the silent voices in her head. "I think it's siphoning magic from her."

Summer's face screwed up with worry. "I don't like the sound of that."

"I'm not worried. It feels diluted – no, not diluted, conflicted. Every voice I hear inside of her has an opposite stuck to it." For a few quiet seconds, she tracked the sounds as they traveled up the black conduit and into her body. Her innate magic smashed those wayward sparks like bugs when they entered, leaving nothing. "I wish you'd stop that," she said to the midnight goo. "I'm trying to hear what they're saying."

"I think I liked it better when she was screaming," Summer pointed out, looking at the catatonic woman. "Naked, afraid, and in a strange place. It's like my first memory all over again."

"Mine too." Winter's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Wait." A tiny whisper danced its way between them over the goo. "I'm not the right kind of magic?"

"Hmm." Only now did Summer order her black blades to retract. She frowned at the bloody slits they left behind, though these closed up in the space of a second. "It makes sense. If whoever did this to her was working with magic that had changed itself to suit this environment, then, no. We're not the right kind of magic at all."

"But how did she end up with so much?" Winter withdrew the sticky connection and braced herself for more screaming – which she got right away. "Ugh." With reluctant hands she rolled the woman over and used the goo to swipe an instant gag across her lips. Not only did it muffle the cries, but it silenced her completely again. "I don't think she can function. The sparks I heard would be telling her two different things at once – and if she has so many internal voices to listen to, her brain must be completely seized up."

"How can we help her?"

"I'm not sure. But..." Winter sighed and stood up. "The least we can do is get her cleaned up. She's a mess."

"Yes." An idea came to the red-eyed woman as she moved to help. "Hold on... if the person who left that note knows about her, maybe they could help us."

"I was thinking the same, but where would we even start looking for them? They didn't leave handwriting for anyone to recognize."

Summer shrugged a little and smiled. "If they feel magic – her magic – maybe they'll come looking." Their gaze went to the woman. "Besides, if they were able to leave a note on our door in the time we were gone, they can't be far. Oh! Maybe the neighbors saw something?"

"Over those ridiculous hedges? I doubt it." Winter gently helped the unkempt woman to her feet, though she made no effort to stand and had to be held up. "The only other option I can think of is to drain her magic and see what happens. Of course, doing so might kill her. I would rather not have to explain that to Mabel."

Summer stared into the dull hazel eyes of their captive and sighed. "Right. I guess the best we can do now is wait. I think I could use a break from this myself anyway."

Giving their magical refugee a bath was a slightly complicated process. Reluctant to use their telekinetic magic to do the work – mostly because they feared the tingles might cause her further pain – the twins instead relied on the umbral fluid that lived within them. Holding her up with a web of black tentacles not only made her easier to bathe, but kept her silent as well. The woman herself turned out to look quite normal – or at least quite normal for this planet – after her bath, though her dusty brown hair had a powerful shine to it. A lot like the twins' inky strands, in fact. Under the grime she had an olive complexion and nearly flawless skin, though her frame was slender to the point of scrawny. More time was spent trimming her nails and brushing her hair, all while she dangled in their frightening black embrace. Once groomed, Winter compressed her into a more appropriate object: a somber-looking golden cube of glass. Summer placed it on the coffee table in the living room as a decoration when they sat on the couch. Now the twins waited for the peace to be broken.

But it seemed as if everyone had collectively let things drop for the moment. The twins' phones were quiet. No one knocked at their door. They fell into the comfortable, contented silence of being with each other while busying their minds in some way or another. For Winter, as always, it was a book. For Summer, it was watching a shopping channel to get ideas about things she could make for the house and its new occupant, just in case anyone showed up who knew her better.

"What is a cleansing conditioner?"

Winter barely glanced up. "I think it's a fancier type of shampoo."

"It sounds like it's made of food. I want to try it." After eyeballing the containers on the screen, then searching the internet for an ingredients list with her phone, she departed for the junk closet and came back with six bottles of the stuff just as the host was talking about shipping options. "I'm sorry, nice woman. My shipping is much faster than yours," she said with a giggle. When they moved on to a model to show how much luster her auburn locks had, Summer lost interest. "Speaking of shiny... sister, did you notice her hair?"

"I did."

"...doesn't it remind you of anyone?"

It sure did; three people in particular, two of which made made the blue-eyed woman feel extremely conflicted. Winter frowned, dog-eared the corner of the page she was on to mark it, and closed her book. "They were right about time and distance. I hate our parents a lot less here and now than I did there and then. I wonder if the referendum has happened yet."

"Forget that. I'm with you; politics don't mean anything to me." A cursory glance back at the golden cube made her lips twist in thought. "Maybe magic just causes your hair to be prettier."

"I would suppose it's a reproductive thing. Prettier humans attract more mates. That means a better chance that more containers will be born for magic to occupy."

"Leave it to you to make romance sound creepy!" Summer exclaimed, folding her arms in a huff. "You need to go on a date. I guess I do too." They shared a brief, but wry smile before she continued. "And anyway, wasn't the point of this expedition to figure out who we are? As people, I mean."

Winter's shoulders slumped as she looked away. "And so we wouldn't influence the voting process, but... yes. You have a point."

"So much for that," the red-eyed woman mumbled. "I feel like I need a vacation from this vacation."

"I can't say I disagree." Winter had her phone out to be sure it still held a charge. She listened briefly to the plaintive, ghostly wail of the cube on the table. "Mm. I wonder what everyone else is up to?"

Wendy's valiant stand against her fear wasn't quite going as she'd planned. Not long after the twins dropped her off, her father headed into town, putting her in charge of a tornado of rowdy boys that would barely pay her any attention when he was around. Alone, it was hopeless. Since the past few hours had left her overwhelmed enough, she barricaded herself in her room and tried to keep calm by lying down. At least her power was under control – despite all the yelling and arguing, no invisible force intervened to throw anyone across the room. Her self-imposed stress test had been passed, for now.

That did not mean her magic was silent. At first it seemed like the internal voice of her consciousness. But as the minutes ticked by she couldn't help but feel another presence drifting around in her mind; this was the biggest contributing factor in her decision to seclude herself. Not knowing what else to do – and since it was going to be there anyway – Wendy took Summer's advice and tried to strike up a conversation. "So, uh... hello? Can you hear—duh, of course you can hear me, you are me. Technically. Never mind." Every muscle went still as she waited for a reply. "I don't think this is working, man. No offense. Can magic be offended?"

An electric little tingle darted around her scalp; with no real way to qualify it, the redhead labeled this feeling as a smile in her brain. It was contagious – she cracked a grin too. "Heh. Okay. I don't even know how to use you. Wait, that kinda sounds mean. Um... crap, if Dipper were here he'd know a better word." The tone of the tingling became colder. "Whoa. That's-"

There was no need to finish her thought. She was already quite familiar with the frigid needles stabbing her skull. Something spurred her to sit up and look around the room for an object to grab. Her left hand stretched out toward her phone, charging on the nightstand. Now she tried to figure out how to engage her power. "I seriously do not have a clue how to do this." With a shrug, the redhead started to think.

Even that turned out a bit fragmented. Put the phone in my hand—hold on, no, unplug it first. Then put it in my hand. She allowed her eyes to close. Yeah. Unplug first, then hand. Uh, please. A tiny click made her jump, but she kept concentrating. The cold touch of metal against her palm caused her fingers to close; when her eyes opened again the phone was in her grip. Lips parted with surprise, she stared at the device. "Dude! I wish I'd actually seen myself do it, but dude." Unable to decide if she was terrified or thrilled, she focused instead on doing the reverse. "Go back." It pushed against her fingers gently until she opened her hand and let it go, watching dumbfounded as it floated right back to where it had been sitting. The cord was even plugged back up after it came to rest. The chilly tingle of magic coursed all the way up her arm, but this time she was not afraid. In fact, it felt like being in the presence of a friend. "Holy crap." Her mind raced with the possibilities. "Oh man. Should I like, go around saving people now? Do I need a costume?"

Sound from the hallway beyond her door made the redhead go quiet, hugging herself almost defensively. Her brothers stomped and yelled as they went by, fighting about who knew what. As their racket faded, Wendy returned to thinking. "No no no. With great power comes great responsibility. I think." A massive grin split her lips. "Screw that. I am gonna prank the absolute crap outta Thompson."

Cackling faintly, she began to practice, mentally grabbing various items. Over the next several minutes, the TV remote, a few socks, her hairbrush, and the hatchet hanging on her wall all bent to her will, flying into her grasp and out of it at the merest thought. "This is amazing!" she said, wearing a sunny smile. A bra from her dresser zipped off and through the air at her command. She snatched it down and smirked. "Maybe I'll actually do my laundry now. Pff, no." A relieved laugh escaped her mouth. "They were right. No point in being afraid of you. We just had to communicate." A thought made her snicker even more. "Oh, dude. You think my brothers could do this too? The world is not ready for magical Corduroy boys, man."

It felt good to feel good again, so Wendy kept on laughing. Only when the hair on her neck stood up did she realize something wasn't right. The cabin was far too quiet. Unwilling to let go of her renewed optimism, she simply assumed her brothers had left and afforded the silence only a glance over her shoulder. Her father was standing in the doorway. "Whoa!" she yelled, tossing the bra away and chuckling nervously. "Uh, h-hey dad."

"I saw you do that. The thing. The thing with the mind grabbing."

"W-what?" Her father had never sounded or looked like this before, so resigned and muted she barely recognized him. "Oh, that was just a trick I learned from Mister Pines, man. He worked some tourists from Portland over with it this one time. It's just, uh, it's just fishing line."

"Don't lie to me, Wendy. I heard you talking to yourself."

Now she realized how long he'd been standing there: too long. Her blood turned to ice. "N-nah. I wasn't-" she fell silent, unable to muster an appropriate excuse. "Okay. Um, dad? You might wanna sit down for this."

Instead he smiled – a crooked, sad smirk that made her heart skip a beat – and crossed his arms. "It's okay, honey. I already know."

The redhead's entire body locked up. "What," she said, more demanding than inquiring. "What do you mean you know?"

He raised his massive hands a little to prevent her from getting nervous. "Don't worry about anything. I'm gonna fix it – gonna fix it again."

Despite his demeanor and her confusion – wondering how and what he knew, and when, was starting to make her feel sick – Wendy chose to keep thinking positive. "Fix it? You can fix it? 'Cause, man, there are a couple of people we really need to go talk to. Let me grab my boots and-" Her face went blank as she processed all of his words. "...again?"

"You just relax right there. Daddy's gonna go make a phone call." He winced at the burgeoning panic in his daughter's eyes and said the one thing he thought would calm her down. "I know you're scared! You won't remember a thing! I promise!" And then he was gone, a series of heavy footsteps that faded down the hall.

"Won't remember a..." All the color left her freckled cheeks as she put Bud Gleeful's words together with her father's. "No. No. You can't be serious." For the second time in as many days, her world was yanked right out from under her, leaving the redhead a gasping, sobbing, trembling wreck. This time, however, she wasn't alone with her emotion. A modest sensation cut through the horror and offered a suggestion. "I should go?" Wendy sniffled, rubbing her nose. "But where?" Anywhere, it whispered. Staying here was not a good idea.

Since thinking about an escape was better than tangling with the questions her father had just raised, she got off the bed, ran to her closet, and grabbed her camping backpack. After a few frantic minutes of stuffing it with whatever clothes she could find that looked clean, Wendy grabbed her new phone and opened the window. "I can't believe this," she said sadly, slipping out onto the grass. "How many times—and what about them?" Now she wondered if her brothers really did have magic – and if they'd been made to forget too. After casting one last glance at the cabin, she dashed into the woods, hoping to outrun a new flood of tears.

Even shielded from the sun by those immense trees, the humid heat sapped her strength quickly. Panting for air, she tumbled to rest at the base of a redwood and sat against its trunk, wiping the sweat off her forehead. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," she said between breaths. "They'll tear Gravity Falls apart lookin' for me." The idea of going back made her stomach turn. "He knew. If he knows, who else does?" Thinking – about that, or anything else – was too tall an order right now. She slumped forward and fought the urge to cry again. "How could he do that to me?!" Startled by the amount of anger that spilled out with those words, Wendy hugged herself and tried to calm down. "Never mind. We've met before, haven't we?" she asked the magic within. "What happened? Do you remember?"

A burst of unspeakable fear was her reply, but in a second it mellowed back into the steadfast background presence that had been poking around in her brain for most of the afternoon. "I was afraid," Wendy confirmed quietly. "I was afraid last night too. So, like, when did I know? Originally." Her mental companion had no answers. "Don't remember, huh? Don't worry about it. I guess it ain't that important." Fanning the heat away with her hat took priority for a moment. "We—I mean me... I mean... dude. Am I me, or are we us?" It informed her in wordless terms that she was fully in control – though it did act to protect her against the Society. In fact, the very next sense she got from it was an apology of some kind. "You're a sweetheart. You don't have to apologize for anything." More of Summer's words occurred to her. "Like a friend that never goes away, huh? I can deal with that. I can't deal with this heat, though."

There was one place where Wendy knew she would find peace. By some miracle her phone had reception. She called Winter straight away. "Hey. Deja vu. Looks like I'm callin' you for help again."

"Why? What happened?"

Her throat closed up, permitting only pained grunts to pass through as she struggled to accept the newest version of her reality. Tears began to flow. "I..." Her new internal friend tried to help by pointing at memories to cheer her up. One of these – her and Tambry making fun of their summer reading assignment for English class – provided the best summary of the day she could hope for. "That Wolfe guy was right. You can't go home again. I need a place to stay. Can you pick me up at the gas station on route 33? It's like a mile or two south of Gravity Falls, just past the shack. I'll explain then. I just can't make myself do it right now," she explained, hunching over toward the end to try and stifle her crying.

Had the redhead been able to look off to her left, she might have seen the figure peeking out from behind another of the redwoods and watching her from underneath their woodland camouflage hood.