Along with the usual warnings for violence in language, I want to also include a trigger warning for gas-lighting just in case.

Dipper shot awake, his hands clutching at his side and panting heavily. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead into his eyes and he rapidly blinked them away. He yanked up the hem of his shirt and swiped his hand across his side but felt nothing amiss as far as he could tell. He threaded his fingers into his hair and fell backwards against his pillow and closed his eyes. His breathing was still labored and he struggled to control it.

"It wasn't real. It wasn't real." He mumbled between breaths. "It's just a nightmare. It wasn't real."

After several minutes, his breathing became more even and he dropped his arms limply to his sides. His unfocused eyes stared up at the dark ceiling and his hand found its way back under the side of his shirt. He stroked his hand slowly against the length of his side from the bottom of his ribcage down to the arch of his hip bone; again, he felt nothing. A stark contrast to when his other hand fell against the front of his chest and he felt the raised bump of the triangle-shaped scar beneath his shirt.

He had no idea what time it was, but judging by the darkness of the room he guessed it was sometime in the very early morning. He stiffly turned his head towards his bedside table and saw his alarm clock blink "4:43am" at him.

Dipper sat upright in his bed, his legs loosely criss-crossed in front of him. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed heavily again. "It was just a nightmare," he mumbled once more.

"Dip? You okay?"

He snapped his head up and looked over at his sister on the other side of the room. Mabel was sitting up in her bed half-facing him, her blanket hanging loosely off of one shoulder.

"Yeah. Yeah Mabes, I'm okay," he whispered. "I'm sorry I woke you up, go back to sleep."

Mabel blinked slowly at him. The light of the moon coming through the window fell across the middle of the room, casting it in a dim light just bright enough to see each other.

Dipper saw her eyebrows furrow momentarily before she swung her feet from the bed and pushed the blanket off of her shoulders. She crossed the space between their beds quickly and settled down beside him. She wrapped her arms lightly around his shoulders and pulled him against her chest.

"Please don't lie to me," she whispered softly.

Dipper place his hands on the arm wrapped around his front and leaned his head against Mabel's shoulder. "I just had a nightmare. I'm okay." He mentally cursed the shake in his voice. "I promise."

She squeezed his shoulders slightly once more before releasing him and shifting sideways in the bed. Her feet hung off the side onto the floor and she folded her hands into her lap. The pair were quiet for a moment before Mabel exhaled heavily and spoke softly once more. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

Dipper's throat felt tight and his shoulders stiffened. He shook his head slowly and pulled his legs criss-cross in front of him. He fisted the leg of his pajamas in one hand. "Please don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong," he said softly.

"Still." She paused, not meeting his eye. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. I was just..." Mabel exhaled heavily once more. "I was so scared."

"I know," his voice cracked, "so was I."

She leaned sideways against Dipper's body until her head rested against his shoulder. "Why is that... that thing coming after you anyways?" She whispered.

Dipper shook his head slowly, feeling Mabel shift against him as he did. "I don't know. I really don't know." He felt a sudden burning in his eyes and blinked hard. "He said that..." He stopped short, debating if he really wanted to tell her more than she already knew. She made that decision for him.

"Said what?"

He inhaled once. Twice. Cleared his throat and shifted his body to face Mabel as she sat up. "He said that this," Dipper put his hand flat against his chest, feeling the scar beneath his t-shirt, "meant something." He didn't meet her eye when he stopped talking.

"What does it mean?" She placed her own hand gently on top of his.

He pushed her hand away, gripping his t-shirt tightly in his other hand. "I don't know," he hissed. He exhaled sharply and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to snap at you."

Mabel sighed heavily, finally finding Dipper's gaze. "I know. I know you don't. I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now."

Dipper shook his head one more time. "Go back to sleep, Mabes," he said softly. "I'll be okay, promise." Mabel's brow furrowed, but she didn't make any move to respond. She stood up and padded the short distance back to her bed. As Mabel sat and pulled up her covers, Dipper stood and stretched his arms upwards. "I'm going to get a glass of water," he clarified at the questioning look he received, "I'll be right back."

Mabel had just pulled the covers back over herself as Dipper pulled the bedroom door shut behind him. He walked down the short hallway and turned onto the landing at the top of the stairs. He nearly tripped down the first step when he belatedly reminded himself that his foot was still sore and he shouldn't jump down the steps. Once he reached the bottom he turned into the hall towards the kitchen, walking past the living room on the way.

He paused in the living room doorway a moment with a sharp breath and very slowly turned his head to look inside, half-expecting to find someone standing in the room. However, there was no one there. Dipper mentally kicked himself for being so paranoid before sighing and continuing into the kitchen.

Again, when he entered he jumped back slightly. But, again, no one else was in the room. The clocks on the microwave and the oven showed 5:06am, casting a dim blue light across the kitchen. Dipper scratched absently across the front of his shirt as he opened the fridge and pulled out the water pitcher, collected a plastic cup from the cabinet, and poured a glass of water. He squinted slightly in the light cast from the refrigerator as he replaced the pitcher on the shelf and closed the door.

As his eyes readjusted, he grabbed for his cup on the counter grabbing at the air briefly as his hand searched for it. When he finally found it he turned and leaned back against the counter to take a drink, leaning his sore foot back on its heel to keep pressure off his toes.

He stared blankly down the darkened hallway towards the front door, idly sipping from his glass and listening to the sounds of the quiet house. The tap dripped steadily beside him, he heard Stan's soft distant snores somewhere down the hall, and the ever-present creaking of the old wood in the shack. It was too early to hear any birds, but judging by the time they would begin stirring soon. Dipper closed his eyes and sighed, taking another slow drink from his glass.

A sudden loud "thunk" against the kitchen window made him jump violently. His hand jerked and his cup fell to the ground, splashing him with water and clattering loudly against the kitchen tile. Dipper instinctively ducked to the floor and pressed his body against the cabinets, his wide eyes trained on the darkened window. His breath came out in short pants and every muscle in his body was tensed, ready to either run or fight depending on what the situation demanded.

He stayed completely still for several minutes waiting for any sign of movement; however, the house and the window remained still and quiet. Slowly, Dipper's shoulders sagged and his body relaxed until he was sitting on the floor leaning sideways against the cabinet. He slowly took stock of his wet pajamas and labored breathing as he sat still.

His breath shook as he inhaled and felt a sudden burning in his eyes. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks as he pulled his knees to his chest, sobbing quietly as he clutched at his pajama pants. He desperately tried to calm himself, but found that he could not. Once more, he weakly rubbed at the scar under his shirt and buried his head in his knees.

"What's wrong with me?" Dipper whispered pitifully between sobs. "Why are you doing this to me?" He wasn't talking to anyone in particular, but in his head he heard the echo of a response.

"Because I can."

It took several more minutes to level his breathing and force himself to unclench his muscles. It took several minutes more before he felt steady enough on his feet to pull himself from the floor using the edge of the counter. The house was quiet again aside from Dipper's occasional sniffle, and he swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. He knelt down and collected his cup from the floor, dropping it into the sink and grabbing for a dish rag. He dropped the rag onto the floor and used his foot to push it around, half-heartedly cleaning the spilled water.

Dipper felt he couldn't summon the energy to pick it up off the floor so he shoved it against the foot of the fridge out of the walkway, deciding he could pick it up later.

He momentarily paused and pressed his forehead against the cool metal of the fridge door, a deep, shaky exhale sliding past his lips.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" He mumbled. Dipper's breath fogged up the silver metal of the fridge door as he exhaled heavily again. "Jumping at a damn bird hitting the window." He fought the urge to smash his fist against the door, electing instead to fist his hands at his sides. He felt the small crescents his nails dug into his palms after a moment and unclenched his hands when they began to ache. He inhaled a deep, shaky breath and exhaled slowly before lifting himself off of the fridge door.

He turned around slowly, tired eyes sweeping across the length of the kitchen, and stood still a moment. The shack was once again quiet other than the creaking of the old wood. He took another shaky breath before limping down the hall towards the back door of the shack. He opened the squeaking screen door and breathed in the cool, early-morning air. He caught the door before it slammed closed and let it shut softly behind him.

Dipper limped to the edge of the porch and leaned against one of the deck posts holding up the tattered roof. It groaned as he leaned his weight against it. He looked out through unfocused eyes into the darkened lawn beyond the flickering halo of the porch light.

A stifled yawn slipped out and he rubbed the back of his fist against one of his eyes.

"Someone looks tired."

Dipper didn't even have the energy to jump at the voice. Instead, he only grabbed ahold of the post to hoist himself a little taller and scanned the edge of the circle of light for movement.

After a moment he responded quietly. He didn't feel the need to be loud. "Leave me alone," he cursed the crack in his voice.

"Why would I do that?" Bill's voice came again, the familiar mocking tone ringing out in the darkness. There was no seeming source of his voice.

Dipper took another shaking inhale, shoulders sagging against the support post on his exhale. "Please." he whispered softly, though he knew Bill could probably hear him no matter the volume. "Just for tonight. Please."

"I like how you sound when you beg." This time Bill's voice came from behind him. Dipper turned slowly, finding Bill sitting cross-legged on the tattered couch. He was wearing a clean, dark grey button down shirt and black slacks that starkly contrasted the pale shabby couch he was sitting on in both color and condition. His curly hair was slicked back out of his eyes, a few strands of the dark black streak hanging loose in front of his eyes. Dipper thought his clean appearance made Bill look older than he had before. Less childish.

Bill tilted his head, resting his cheek on his knuckles. He flashed Dipper a toothy grin. "Do it again."

The brunette stared back at him in silence for a moment. His whole body ached as he leaned heavily on the beam. His foot throbbed painfully, his head was pounding, and his vision felt unfocused.

He took another deep breath, letting it out slowly before shaking his head.

Bill quirked an eyebrow at the other boy. He gave a derisive "hmph" before rolling his eyes. "Always so stubborn." There was another beat of silence. Bill sighed and gave a half-hearted shrug, his hand falling from his cheek onto the arm of the couch. "Very well then," he waived a hand loftily in front of him and looked away, "I suppose I could return the kindness this once."

"What are you talking about? What kindness?" Dipper snapped. He attempted to straighten himself but only made it so far before his tired muscles screamed in protest.

Bill looked back at him and fluttered his eyelashes at the brunette. "Oh? You don't remember the lovely visit you paid me last night?" He clicked his tongue. "How disappointing."

Dipper froze; body tensing and breath catching in his throat. "It was real?" He absently clutched at his side as he shifted against the post again. "How is that possible?"

The blond, upon seeing Dipper's reaction, grinned wide and leaned forward in his seat. "Ah, so you do remember. Delightful," he purred. He placed his cheek onto his knuckles again and looked Dipper up and down once. "Don't worry, I didn't leave any marks this time. Injuries in the Mindscape don't carry over to this world. I just needed to shock you enough to wake you up."

Dipper furrowed his brow in irritation. "It amazes me how little your explanations actually explain anything," he snapped.

Bill quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head further against his hand, smile never faltering. As he did this, another lock of his hair fell forward in front of his face. "Oh? You haven't pieced it together yet?" He made a small hmph sound. "I guess you aren't as clever as I had hoped, darling."

"Stop calling me that!" Dipper's voice came out louder than he intended and he recoiled almost immediately as Bill's smile faltered. He felt the splintered wood at the edge of the deck dig into his bare heel as his foot slid backwards and grit his teeth.

Bill was silent for a moment, surveying Dipper slowly. It seemed to Dipper that Bill's silence was almost as frightening as his threats and his steely gaze sent a shiver crawling up Dipper's spine.

The blonde hummed quietly, as if in consideration. "And what are you going to do if I don't?" Dipper saw the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Dipper inhaled sharply. He felt Bill's provocation of him boded poorly. "What do I say?" Dipper's mind raced. "Threats are meaningless to him. If I try to threaten him he'll likely just turn it on me. After all, he's escalated with every encounter. But if I say 'nothing,' then-."

"Your thoughts are always so noisy," Bill mused. "I'll give you a hint; there is a correct answer."

Dipper stared back at the blonde. He was sitting completely still, seemingly totally at ease on the dimly lit porch surveying the other boy. Dipper's body ached in exhaustion. His head was pounding. His heart racing. "A correct answer? So what if I answer wrong?" He felt his fingernails dig small crescents into the wood of the post he was holding onto. After a beat of silence, Dipper tensed and shook his head slowly.

Bill lifted his head from his hand. "No answer then, hm?"

Dipper didn't move. He didn't dare.

"Shame." Bill sighed as if in annoyance and stood slowly.

Even though it was slow, Dipper's body reacted automatically as if Bill had lunged at him. His body stiffened, feet losing purchase on the edge of the deck and falling backwards. The surprise of the fall caused his fingers to slip off of the wooden post that had been supporting him. He cried out in surprise and flailed his arms out to the side to catch himself.

He felt a strong hand grip his wrist before he saw it. Bill had stepped across the deck quickly and grabbed onto Dipper's right wrist as he fell. The blonde yanked hard on Dipper's arm, causing him to cry out from the jolt in his shoulder, before he hit hard against Bill's chest. One of Bill's hands was still gripping Dipper's wrist, pulling it up slightly above the brunette's head. His other hand was placed on the small of Dipper's back supporting most of his weight.

Bill leaned forward, in conjunction tipping Dipper slightly more backwards, and smiled sweetly. "Oh darling, such a clumsy little thing."

Dipper grunted in an attempt to yank his wrist free. "Let go of me," he spat through gritted teeth.

"I would never drop you." Bill shook his head slowly.

"What if I want you to?" Dipper spat again. He wrenched his wrist again and twisted his body in attempt to wriggle free.

Bill laughed derisively, tightening his grip on Dipper's wrist further. "And when I have I taken what you want into consideration?" Dipper winced in pain and pulled again. It felt as if his legs would give out beneath him if Bill let go, but he didn't much care. "This would be so much easier for you if you would just play along, love."

"I'm never going to 'play along' with you, so forget it! You're sick!" Dipper shouted back into his face. He was still leaned backwards at an odd angle, his core burned from the exertion. The edge of the deck was pressed into the bottoms of his feet as he pushed against it.

Bill narrowed his eyes and his grin disappeared. He leaned forward close to Dipper's ear. "You will," he hissed. "The longer you resist me, the more painful this will be for you." He squeezed again on Dipper's wrist, causing Dipper to shriek and pinch his eyes closed. "Give up."

Dipper felt like his breath was being forced out of his lungs. He tilted his head away from Bill's and grit his teeth. He forced out a shaky exhale. "No."

There was silence for a moment. As if the whole world around them was holding it's breath.

"Fine then."

Bill squeezed again on Dipper's wrist with impossibly more force. There was a sickening crunch and Dipper felt burning pain shoot up his arm and he screamed. All at once, Bill released both his wrist and his back, dropping him onto the grass with a thud. Dipper hit the ground and rolled onto his left side, cradling his right wrist by his stomach. His vision was splotchy and he felt like the ground around him was spinning. His chest heaved with the effort of sucking in air as he sobbed in pain.

With great effort he clawed himself onto his knees and crawled a few feet away from the deck on his uninjured hand before collapsing against the dirt again. His right wrist hit the ground under him and he cried out again, falling onto his side once more and pulling it against himself.

He heard the muffled sound of shoes leaving the hard wood of the deck and stepping onto the grass. The footsteps approached steadily and Dipper couldn't muster the energy to attempt to get away, only to roll onto his back. He looked up through clouded eyes and saw Bill's silhouette leaning over him with his hands in his pockets.

He couldn't make out Bill's expression but he figured he was likely smiling.

The blonde clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Oh darling," he cooed. "Look what you've done." He gestured down at Dipper before returning his hands to his pockets.

Dipper blinked slowly up at him. His crushed wrist throbbed painfully and he couldn't get any of the muscles in his arm to cooperate.

"Such a shame. I do hate to see you in pain," he simpered. He squatted down beside Dipper and reached out to cup his cheek. Dipper made a half-hearted move to turn his face away, but it didn't make much of a difference. Bill brushed a thumb across his cheek slowly as he loomed over the brunette. His eyes trailed down Dipper's face to the wrist he held close to his chest and clicked his tongue again. "Why would you do this to yourself?" He hummed softly.

"You..." Dipper croaked weakly. His chest heaved. "You did this... to me."

Bill shook his head slowly, brows knit together. "Oh, no darling," he cooed again. His voice was so soft, Dipper could barely hear it above the rush of his own blood in his ears. "You did this. Don't you remember? I warned you, didn't I?" He trailed a finger down Dipper's cheek, along his jaw, and down to his collarbone just above the neck of his shirt. "I told you, this could be so much easier for you darling."

Dipper let out a shaky exhale. "Don't call me that," he whispered.

Bill pressed his palm flat against the scar beneath Dipper's shirt and the brunette tensed "I could be so good to you, Dipper. Just play with me," Bill whispered back. "You don't have to hurt anymore."

Dipper was so tired. His body ached, his arm burned with each throb of his heartbeat, his head was swimming, his eyes unfocused. "I didn't..." he mumbled. "I didn't do this..." His head lolled tiredly to the side towards Bill's feet.

Bill shushed him quietly. "Yes you did, love. You made me do this." His soft assertions continued as his hand trailed down further across Dipper's chest towards the hand cradled by his stomach.

Dipper felt as is his mind was full of cotton. He blinked slowly as he tried to focus his eyes on Bill's shoes just in front of him. It was lighter outside now. Dipper guessed the sun would begin to creep over the horizon soon.

"You made me do this," Bill crooned softly again. "But I could fix it..." He paused hand resting just above Dipper's navel. "If you asked me to."

Dipper lifted his head slowly until he could look up at Bill's face. The flickering porchlight cast a dim orange light across half of his face. More of Bill's hair had fallen forward to frame his face in loose curls. He had a soft smile on his lips but that softness did not travel all the way to his eyes. Dipper's breath shook and he suppressed a half-hiccup.

"Please..." his voice was just above a whisper.

Bill smiled wider. "I can't resist you when you beg, love." He looked down towards Dipper's hand and shifted his own hand until it was resting on top of Dipper's wrist. He pressed down just slightly eliciting a hiss and causing the brunette to pinch his eyes shut. Bull hushed him once more and closed his eyes, muttering something softly.

Dipper felt a tingling sensation radiating from Bill's palm. It spread from his wrist to the tips of his fingers and up towards his elbow. There were several loud pops as Dipper felt the bones of his wrist shift beneath Bill's hand. He grunted loudly as one final pop returned the feeling to his fingers and Bill released him. Dipper's chest heaved with heavy pants as he looked up at the blonde with glassy eyes.

Bill sat back onto his heels and rested his elbows on his knees. His head cocked to the side and he smiled. "Feel better, darling?" He let the name drip from his lips slowly.

It took Dipper a moment to fully realize that he had been asked a question. Only recognizing that Bill expected a response when he didn't continue. He couldn't summon any words that he dared to speak, instead only nodding slowly.

Bill scanned his eyes down Dipper's prone body. "That foot of yours must hurt, too. Doesn't it love?"

Dipper's head lolled to the side once more, this time facing away from his captor. He grunted an agreement.

"I wonder how I missed that the first time..." Bill mused. Dipper could almost hear the smile in his voice. "I could fix that for you. But it has been rather useful to me." He chuckled behind Dipper. "After all, it makes it all that more difficult for you to run from me."

Dipper decided not to respond this time. It didn't seem it mattered what he said anyways. He clenched and unclenched his fingers against his stomach slowly and closed his eyes.

After a period of silence, he heard Bill sigh and the shifting of the grass beside him. "I suppose we've played enough for tonight," Bill muttered from somewhere above him. "I should just leave you out here." Bill laughed, louder this time. "After all, you were a very poor sport this evening..."

Dipper mustered all of his energy to look back up at the blonde. He was standing over him rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up above his elbows. Dipper wasn't even sure what expression he was making, his whole body felt as if it was resisting him, but he assumed it was something pitiful.

Bill stared down at him for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and squatting down again. "Oh well, I wouldn't want something dangerous to find you out here in the dark." He slid one arm beneath Dipper's knees and the other behind his back and hoisted him off the ground as if he weighed little more than dandelion fluff.

His head sagged against Bill's chest and his arm hung limply by his side. "Is that your idea of a joke?" Dipper mumbled bitterly.

"Come now," Bill chided as he began to walk towards the porch with Dipper in his arms. "Don't be a sore lose, darling."

Dipper shook his head but didn't respond. He felt the slight scratch of the buttons against his temple and his eyes fell closed.

He felt Bill chuckle quietly before pressing a kiss against his forehead. Dipper internally cringed, but his body felt too heavy to do much else.

"Now then," Bill purred, "let's get you to bed."