The Return to Gravity Falls

by EZB

Mabel and Dipper return to Gravity Falls three years after their life-altering summer vacation spent with their Grunkle Stan, to find that Gravity Falls never stops being, well, weird. As the twins encounter old friends and reconnect with the supernatural inhabitants of Gravity Falls, new dangers lurk just outside of the knowledge of Uncle Stanfords old journals.

108. The First Wraith, Part 2

From the cluttered desk, the chair turned. Zander would twist himself to look at them. Slouched in his seat, he cupped his hands over his slumped face, pushing his blond hair out of the way. Occupying a long moment with silence, he looked at them through his fingers; those shining silver eyes glimmering like stars in the night sky. He leaned backwards and let out a long, heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I've never… had to go through this before."

"Go through… what?" Dipper asked.

"An apology of this magnitude," Zander quietly said.

"Get used to it," Dipper replied as smarmily as he could, "It happens when you work with people instead of use people."

"Typically," Zander continued, "When I'm apologizing, it's to people I've lost."

It wasn't proper to say there was a silence that fell into the room upon Zander's words. Would Dipper's actions and energy be akin to a fire, a heavy, cold blanket had just been draped upon him, leaving only a sad, lingering smoke behind. Dipper's mouth was left hanging open, ready to continue digging into Zander, yet unable to form reasonable words. Mabel held her arms, looking to the floor intently. Air cooled. The air stung like morning frost. The twins suddenly felt a new weight from the conversation.

The Guardsman, Zander, leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. "Age is a bitter teacher," Zander Maximillion spoke softly with all the weight of a dire maul, "Lessons from time are not optional. We may ignore the learnings of life, but they are branded into us. We carry these lessons whether we want to or not. And I… have had a very, very long time to learn. Longer than anyone ever should have. I hold, unseen, a scarred and mutilated body from all these lessons."

The look in his eyes turned dour. "Please understand that my every intent was only to do what I thought was most helpful while causing as little damage as possible. My greatest, reoccurring lessons in life have all been how I cause pain and suffering. I am trying to do everything to avoid that. To stop that. But from your perspective… I can see the frustration and exasperation. I can see the growing resentment."

Mabel was quick to respond, "I don't resent you."

Dipper, perhaps fighting the most stubborn of his bones, said, "I… suppose you're right, I'm a little frustrated. But… I don't know about resentment. Not yet, anyway."

Zander snorted. He turned back around to his desk, and pulled out a drawer. From inside a small box was lifted, small enough to fit into his palm. There, he pulled out two small frail discs – able to fit on the tip of his finger.

"A moment," he called over his shoulder. One after the other, he placed two bright green colored contacts into his eyes. After a moment to blink and adjust, he placed the box down and turned: the green restored to his eyes. "That should be less unnerving to the rest," he told the twins with a sad smile.

Mabel, squinting, asked, "But your eyes are so pretty. Why do you put the green in?"

Zander paused as he stood up. Whatever Mabel had said had stunned him in some minor, less palpable way. Slowly rising to his fullest, he scratched at his chin. Looking beyond them, he asked, "Soos and Wendy aren't in the stairway, waiting for us, are they?" The twins shook their head, and Zander nodded. "Then they're downstairs. Good. It will be the best place to get this out of the way. C'mon. I need to do something to clear my head."

As Zander walked past them, grabbing a long coat and tossing it over his shoulders, Dipper requested, "And that is… what?"

Zander, at his door, smiled to Dipper and told him, "I'm in need of some music."

Descending the flights of stairs after Zander Maximillion was odd. Somehow the wooden floors and walls echoed with his footsteps as if he walked within the confines of a cold stone mausoleum. His loose, long hair flowed behind him, the coat swaying with his steps. Each footfall took the twins and the enigmatic man closer to the din of conversation below. Finally, Zander appeared in the room.

As the twins arrived, they found the entire room had gone silent. All sixteen individuals turned to see the shadow of a once charismatic performer arrive, as if to his own funeral. He gave a watery smile, and then turned and walked towards the group of Duskhope: bee-lining for Robbie.

Watching the shadow loom ahead, Robbie asked, "Zander? You cool?"

Zander nodded. "I was hoping," he quietly said, yet his words rang clear, "You'd play the song that got you hired. Your favorite."

"Oh," Robbie jolted, and looked about. He cleared his throat, "Like… right now?"

"Yeah. Right now," Zander nodded, his smile warming up.

Robbie rushed to stand, and tapped the shoulders of the other band-mates as he passed by. As the group started for the stage, the stage-manager Harmony approached Zander. "What are you doing?"

Zander smiled to her. "Ripping off the band-aide."

Her eyes widened. She looked around herself; to the twins, the paths, the parents. Quietly as she could, she insisted, "This doesn't feel like a good idea amongst company. You're really going to just… tell them?" A heavy, gentle hand fell onto her shoulder. Maintaining his smile, he nodded at her. That coldness melted, and a much more worried person stared up at Zander Maximillion. "They're in deep, then," she stated distantly.

"Too late to turn back," Zander told her, "The fire spreads, Harmony. We're on our own."

The woman nodded, her eyes shimmering, and stepped back. Taking a nearby seat, the woman found herself a comfortable position, and rested her head in her hands. Whatever Zander had told her, it had a heavy impact. Dipper approached Zander, asking, "What did that mean?"

"A long time ago," Zander explained, "We cut ties to a mutual organization. She is… realizing how serious I am, I suppose." He then too took his seat, facing the stage.

Wendy and Soos approached the twins. "Hey," Wendy nudged Dipper, "You got him to come down."

"Thank Mabel for that one," Dipper shrugged, "I just told him he was being stupid."

"Nah," Mabel poked his forehead, "You helped! If you two hadn't been stupid together, I wouldn't have dropped that truth bomb on him. Then he'd not have come down at all."

"Nice," Soos nodded, a proud lip puffed out with dignity, "You make your great-uncle proud."

"Huh?" Ford called over from the parents.

Soos twisted and glared at him. "I meant your brother." Ford looked down-crested, and Soos turned back. "Anyhoo, nice job bros."

"So," Wendy indicated the stage, as Robbie helped the other gentlemen move a piano onto it, "The first thing we're getting for Zander returning is… a private performance?"

"Ah, rad, dude!" Soos took out his phone, "Remember to record this! These things usually cost an arm and a leg to get! Or money, for those less insane performers."

As the crowd came to sit amongst the comfortable furniture, the band prepared. Midian happily sat next to Harmony, preparing to watch the performance with an innocent eagerness. On the stage, Robbie took to center with a microphone and guitar, Marcus found a drum set, and Kane sat by the piano. Bishop, despite his usual position, found a cello, which he tuned and listen to purr. After a few moments, the band realized they were set, and turned to Robbie.

"Kay," Robbie shrugged, and looked to the audience, "So, like, this is the song I played when I was dying from exhaustion during the auditions. Mom and Dad taught it to me a long time ago, so… yeah. It's kinda sad, and old too, but cool, you know? So… listen up. Hope you like it."

Soos clapped. "Flawless start."

One uncertain stare to Soos out of the way, Robbie nodded to Kane. Kane nodded to the others, and then danced his fingers across the keys. The sound he made was beautiful, like a misty waterfall's soundtrack. The notes rose and fall, gently and with an inherited sadness. Even when the notes rose up, they would fall into a dream-like solemnity.

Then Robbie sang.

"Many times and tales alike have warned of this grim lore.

About the darkness in the woods, on cliffs, or caves of gore.

Of these stories, one prevails, a twisted ending of hopes.

So listen closely, lend your ear, beware the shadow of slopes."

Dipper's brain fried and he felt static fill his mind. He heard what was a beautiful addition from the bass and cello, and the three harmonized into this enchanting, mesmerizing melody. Even in the happiest of notes, the sadness lingered in the notes of the piano. Something about the lyrics hit a memory in his mind. It was something that an annoying gnome had poked at a long time ago, when Dipper was looking for Wendy.

The delightful, almost spring-like quality of the section lasted about a minute. Robbie took his moment, letting his bandmates play around him. When then the notes turned more autumnal once again, Robbie continued to sing.

"One young child, heart the purest, found this shadowy thing.

It didn't strike, she took it home, perhaps there it might spring.

Like an ox, it lent its strength, the girls family prospered.

Among the village, fear did spread, and soon their faith faltered."

Dipper felt the song build. There was something changing in the way that Bishop played the cello. It was beginning to vibrate in a note, wavering and shivering. There was a haunting quality to it as the song moved forward, warning of something about to happen.

His shoulders tensed. His arms tensed. Something about this song made him think of… it. The moment they had all been avoiding trying to bring up. Something that had happened nearly twelve hours ago. A hand slithered into his own, and Dipper looked to his side. Mabel's eyes shimmered, and he saw in her shoulders the same kind of tension. Spying around him, Dipper saw Wendy's eyes harden, and Soos's gaze drop. They were all feeling it.

Robbie continued.

"It's undying nature, the villagers accused.

A quiet, kindly soul, the family excused.

Fear then boiled into rage, and torches were then used.

Despite all the peace, it had brought harm and abuse."

Breath was harder to intake. He felt the room was spinning. Something about this song hit too close. Within Dipper's heart was the very real sense that he was back at the compound, watching Zander approach the heavy metal doors. He remembered the look in Zander's eyes when he had said, "They all die."

The song was building, tensing like a dreadful coiled spring. Something would give, it was going to explode into a sorrowful mess.

Robbie sang on.

"With a strike she fell and cried.

The villagers then died."

As the spring failed its last strength to hold back, the song exploded. The drums from Marcus fell hard, the cello from Bishop was fast and erratic, the keys played from Kane were almost punched. It was Robbie though that really hit hardest. His voice was melodic, but tortured. He sang as much as he wailed, a terrible cry of agony.

"Thedread!"

Dipper, and likely the four saw it happen again. He remembered how Zander had merely put his hands at the crease of the massive metal blast doors, and pulled them aside. Even as the strange energy-weapons from the cultists fired, Zander pushed forward, something awful following behind him. The weapons would strike his body, causing horrid burns. Within a moment, the burns faded away.

"Theyfled!"

After closing the distance, Zander had lifted one of the cultists high above the ground. Aloft in one arm, the cultist shouted for their comrades to defeat the interlopers. Then, in one brutal motion, Zander twisted his wrist suddenly. The cultist had stopped shouting and slumped. Dropped to the floor, the rest of the cultists, seeing an uninjured man walk towards them, seemed to comprehend something. Some stood their ground, firing their weapons into a seemingly indestructible man. The rest screamed and ran for it.

"Whiletheyplead,"

It was not just Dipper reliving that horrible moment. Mabel clenched up in her seat as she remembered what had followed the freeing of the first chamber. Though the majority of the first wave of cultists had been defeated, more tried to buy time for their fellows to escape, to re-group. Zander seemed to take poorly to the coordination. He would rush from one to another, striking out. They would scream in panic, desperation seeping into their efforts.

"They would bleed!"

They all remembered something: Zander's strikes were not normal. He would cut through the air with a flattened hand, almost as a blade. Where he struck, there was blood. He was a walking weapon, no longer with a shred of mercy or a withholding sense of humanity. Down the hallway he carved into the fleeing cultists, some crying for help, for salvation, from their master. None would come.

"Claw, his flaw, his hate!"

From one became many, many became dozens. The floor was bathed in an awful reddish splash, and the gang followed, torn between trying to stop Zander on his rampage, or letting the man be. Freedom was surely in the shadow of the carved path before them. They saw the eyes of the dead as they ran by, looking out as if they might see one more thing, a hope of survival. Through heavy doors and even metal walls, Zander destroyed and killed his way out.

"It all would conflagrate!"

They had escaped at some point. It had been hard for them to tell when they had, for the carnage and bloodshed had ruined a sense of time. Death had happened for the four, sure. Death had never been so visceral and so constant around them. Zander had tore through jeeps and other vehicles, and was standing in a pool of red, smoke billowing around him from the fires of a incinerated vehicle.

The song reached a point where it had nowhere else to go. It slowed, calming down from the panicked energy. The piano softly returned to the original melody. Robbie sang, unaware of the journey that Wendy, or Soos, or Mabel, or Dipper had undergone.

"Cleansing wind and rain would not wash away the blood, the pain.

All was left was it, was he, alone to become the bane."

The four couldn't recall how long they had waited for Zander to turn and face them. There hadn't been another sound, other than the crackling fire of the nearby, upturned vehicle. He had been half bathed in deep shadows, illuminated on the side facing away from them. Mabel had taken the first, daring step. She had asked for his name. When he hadn't responded, she called out for the guardsman.

He had turned to that, and they had seen the blood that drenched his face. He looked to them as someone might if they were about to weep.

Robbie concluded the song.

"I say to you, heed this warning, the wraith lurking on high.

Some darkness is too deep, and some evil won't pacify."

As the last, trembling, haunting notes of the song faded out. An applause filled the room. Harmony, Midian, the paths, and the parents clapped. The twins looked to one another, tears in each others eyes. Soos was busy wiping away at his face, and Wendy looked closer to a corpse than she had in ages. Zander, nearby, looked distant.

"Well, yeah," Robbie shrugged, "That's the Shadow of the Alps."

Dipper's eyes shot wide. Wendy perked up a little. They shared a look, one filled with alert interest and fascination. Dipper turned to look at its credited author; Zander Maximillion.

Robbie, happy with his performance, added, "And that's what got me in with these losers."

"Thank Zander," Kane snickered, "I still think you're terrible."

"Wow," Robbie punched the man's arm. Despite the injury, Kane smirked at the singer.

Zander stood up. "Thanks guys," he told them, "I needed to hear that again. I need to talk to these lost," he waved a hand to the twins, Wendy, Soos, and Ford, "and then we can all discuss what is going on. Okay?"

"Uh," Robbie looked around, and shrugged, "Sure, dude."

As Zander turned for the stairs, he was intercepted. Standing before him was Darren. Zander sighed. "I promise. We're talking later," He assured him.

"Yeah?" Darren narrowed his eyes. "Do you need an escort going up the stairs to keep you from going possum on us?"

Zander laughed, and walked forward. Passing Darren with a hand on his shoulder, the mysterious leader of so many different lives strode up the stairs. He glanced back once towards the twins. With a nod, he beckoned them to follow. "You wanted to ask some questions, didn't you?"

Soos was fastest at pummeling with questions. "Aw, do I!? Is there an organization of secret-mega-rockstar-assassins? Are you their leader, or their greatest agent? Do you actually fly, or just will the universe to move around you? Are you a god, a child of a god, made by a god, or a demigod? Also, dawg, how do you change your eye color so quickly?"

Climbing the stairs, Zander chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice ideas."

"Thanks," Soos proudly walked an inch straighter, "I'm known for my impressive head-canons."

As the four followed in his wake, Zander tapped his chin with a finger. "Let's see. In order… not that I am aware of. See answer number one. I create a current of air around me that actually acts more like a jet than a rocket, pulling me through low-density air as high-density air pushes me forward." They walked through the bedroom corridor. Zander continued, "I am definitely not related to a god – the few I've met hate me. And," Zander turned, put a finger to his eye, and to the disgust of those watching, budged his eye with small circle, "contacts."

"Ugh, that's not right," Dipper grumbled.

Wendy snickered and Mabel shrugged. "That's not that bad. You didn't have bracers, Dip."

Dipper added, "Still trying to process the fact that you just casually mentioned that you've encountered gods. They're real?"

"But not a big deal," Zander shrugged.

Dipper, spastic in motion, demanded, "How can you even say that!?"

Zander explained, "Because there isn't really a correct definition of one. As far as I've ever seen, there is no ultimate high-power being that sees all, knows all, controls all. There are just powerful beings that get worshipped. And I was almost always a menace to them."

"Always fighting the power, huh?" Wendy smirked.

Over his shoulder, Zander lifted a fist up. He told them with a grin, "I have always had a sense of vindication when challenging, or upsetting, a status quo."

"Really?" Mabel's eyes sparkled, and she rushed to his side.

"Sure," he shrugged, "Don't get me wrong- I've been everything from a slave to the wealthy elite, but I never lost my appetite for market carnage of the bourgeoisie. Did you know," Zander snickered, "I once joined a wealthy British organization that wanted to monitor the state of the paranormal?"

Mabel gasped. "You fought alongside the brits?"

"Hah, yeah," Zander's smile turned apologetic. He rubbed his head, explaining, "I've had a long time to rub shoulders with pretty much everyone, which means I have had a lot of interactions with historic losers. But, to my credit, I mostly stole from the brits. Spent my entire time funneling resources out of their coffers and sent it to humanitarian aid and counter-slavery lawyers. The Baltimore Atlantic Posterity Shippers existed to help lower-income businesses, after all."

"No way!" Mabel gasped.

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Oh, right! I forgot about that part of your history book you definitely leant us about the things you did in your past. Whoops. Of course we didn't know!" he cried out. He then reached out into his journal, withdrew a pen, clicked it, and began to scribble. "How'd you do it?"

Zander, who had looked to Dipper in worry, relaxed. "One of the things that those born in wealth seem to notice the least is money – especially when it is in small amounts. I just added small, inconsequential amounts to every cost, sometimes less than one percent of a bill, and over a century later, I had whittled away their accounts."

"And you were so clever they never found out?" Mabel beamed.

"Oh, they did find out," Zander darkly chuckled, rubbing his arm, "They tried to have me removed from the League, or killed. Didn't go so well for them, as you can imagine, since there is no more League."

Dipper, nodding to himself, added, "Embezzlement. Nice," Dipper smirked, "Grunkle Stan would have loved to hear that."

As they climbed the spiraling stairs, and passed into the bedroom door, Zander chuckled with a hint of sadness, "I'm sure he would have."

Once through the doors which led to the cluttered, art-filled room, Soos awed around himself. "Oh wow, this room looks like how true artists live! Like Lil' Bigg Dawggg, or Bob Ross."

"Or how my room looked when I was thirteen," Wendy shrugged, "Seriously, got a cluttering problem, Zander."

Zander had walked across the shores of material on the floor, over to his desk. Once leaning back into his chair, he spun about, and faced the floor. "I'd get comfy. I'm sure you guys have a lot of questions – and that could take a bit."

Mabel dropped into a cross-legged sit immediately. Soos, chuckled, pointing to her. "Hah, cool! I can do that too-" and as he tried, fell backwards into a resounding crash. "Wow," he said from the floor, "Mabel really makes the backpain seem like nothing!"

Wendy shrugged, standing. "It doesn't bother me, either way. Like, what even is comfortable when you're a wraith, right?"

Dipper nodded, his personal journal open. "Right. Why don't we start then with the most important question we've all been thinking."

Mabel piped up instantly, "How are you still single!?"

Dipper grumbled, "Definitely not what I wanted to ask."

Zander smirked, shaking his head. "Well, truthfully, I've not always been. But being as long-lived as I have, it makes things complicated."

With Mabel pinker in the cheeks, she nestled into her seat. "Oh, that makes sense. Never would have thought about it that way. Complications."

"Could be the name of my biographic series," Zander chuckled, waving a hand in the air, "Complications; a story of… me."

"Now," Dipper cleared his throat, "Can we ask the real questions, please?"

"Oh yeah," Soos sat up from the floor, "So, like, the guardsman? And you? What is up with that?"

"Oh! OH!" Mabel hopped on the floor, hand in the air. "Pick me! Me! I know this one!"

While Wendy, Dipper, and Soos stared at Mabel in disbelief, Zander shrugged. "I guess you might have known, if what I dreamt last night was any indication to what happened with you."

Mabel turned to her brother. "So, get this – Zander a long time ago was kinda outta the loop. In, like, a crazy way, as well as out of the people circles way. Crazy and crazy lost. Going through the edgy phase, you know?"

Dipper nodded, and scribbled down several words, squinting at his sister. Mabel continued, "But then a woman showed up. Haddiya Sahar! She's amazing," Mabel sighed, "Smart, funny, powerful," Mabel added with a deep rumbling voice, "Total wizard hottie. Anyway, she decides to work with Zander, instead of killing him! Now that's a meet-cute!" Mabel giggled, her legs squirming.

Dipper had written, perhaps, two more words. Glaring at Mabel, he asked, "And this… explains the Guardsman story… how?"

"Oh, duh," Mabel bonked her head and added, "Because he becomes her bodyguard. Her personal guardsman. There."

"That's it?" Dipper looked to Zander. "Your alter-ego, a shadowy, mysterious, seemingly all-powerful being of darkness and element-based powers got his name from… a job?!"

Zander picked at his chin. "Seemed clever at the time," he quietly argued, looking at the ceiling.

"I hate to say it," Wendy tucked her hands in her pockets, shaking her head, "I'm with dipper on that one. Could have gone with 'The Guardian', or 'The Watcher', y'know?"

Mabel, just above a whisper, smirked and said to Wendy, "Yeah, I bet you're with Dipper a lot these days."

Wendy, glaring at Mabel with fire in her cheeks, didn't hear what Soos had to ask next. "Does that mean you're definitely, canonically… a man?"

Zander squinted at Soos. "Yes."

Soos nodded. "Okay, that knocks out a lot of other theories. Good to know."

"Guys!" Dipper snapped. Gaining the attention of his peers, and Zander, he scolded, "I know we're happy that he's talking to us again, and he's not dead, and we beat Graupner again, but focus!" he pointed to Zander, "He's finally opening up! Deep secrets of a person who has held everything super close to his chest. We need to ask the right things."

"So," Mabel played with her hands nervously, "Asking if Haddiya and I have any similar qualities is… not a good question to ask?"

"No!" Dipper shouted.

Zander leaned around Dipper, and told Mabel, "You do."

As the cheeks on Mabel's face flushed red, Dipper spun to Zander. "How about these kinds of questions: How are you still alive after all these years? How do you know so much about weird stuff and magic and things? Why do you hate magic?"

"Why do your eyes change colors?" Soos suggested.

Dipper spun to Soos, "That would be a good question, except that Mabel and I saw him put contacts in." Soos nodded, and laid back down. Dipper spun back to Zander, and pointed at him, "Which leads to another good question: Why do you wear contacts?!"

Zander made to speak, and as he did so, Mabel shot out with her own question. "And what is the deal with your spear-orb? Sporb?"

Zander slowly closed his mouth, as he saw Wendy too had asked a question. She asked, "And, uh, how do you know so much about Wraiths?"

Dipper nodded. "Yeah! Are you some sort of scholar? Secret paranormal scientist?"

Mabel, having only considered her own question, asked, "Is this a power I can learn," she pointed to his scarf, "Shape-bending? I wanna be like Evotar: the last spacebender too! Turn my accessories into deadly weapons!"

Soos, eyes wide, pointed to Mabel. "Yo, hambone, same! Evotar for the win!"

Wendy, above their chatter, asked, "Dipper has looked in every place he can think of that could have answers about wraiths, and then you just sort of casually know things about them?"

"And each little fact is correct?!" Dipper snapped, rubbing a hand through his thick hair. He grumbled, "Really making me look a bit bad at my job."

Wendy nudged Dipper, "Imagine how Robbie must feel."

Dipper quickly retorted, "I try not to."

From the avalanche of questions, Soos, who had been stroking at his chin hairs, asked aloud, "And, don't take this the wrong way, dawg, but, like, what are you?"

Dipper let out a relieved sigh. "Now that's the question I was hoping for," he said to Wendy and Mabel.

The din of question started to fade. From Soos, the eyes slowly turned to Zander. Some of that happy, sleepy energy started to fade into a sunken sadness. As the three watched, Zander stroked his face. His eyes swept over the room, glancing from one object to another.

Zander, wearing a heartbroken smile, stated, "I am centuries worth of mistakes that shambles around in the approximation of a person."

"So relatable," Soos muttered sympathetically.

As Dipper made to jump at Zander verbally, he continued quickly, "But I know what you're really wanting. Specifics. Well," he turned and stared at Mabel, "She's had a glance at some. Last night, while I slept," he longingly sighed, "Now there's something I never thought I'd say again. Hahhh. Anyway, I felt her in my memories. A familiar presence, seeing who I am."

"Oh," Mabel blew a quick raspberry, "That was just Haddiya. I was snooping by accident. I wanted to get back and kick Cipher in his nonexistent crotch!"

"No, Mabel," Zander offered her a smile akin to a rising dawn, "You. I could sense you in my memories. A warmth, a certain kindness." Her face went red. Zander seemed not to notice, as he rested into his chair, staring at the ceiling. "You see, there are areas of my mind I do not go to. I think those Sanitors call it 'the forbidden zone'. Honestly, its kind of hard to remember sometimes. Oh boy," he rubbed his face, and chuckled, "I've never really explained this to anyone before."

"Wait," Wendy squinted, "Anyone?"

Soos added, wiggling his hand in the air, "Like anyone-anyone?"

"The only people who knew," Zander explained, "Were Haddiya Sahar and Sefu Olishia." Though the twins seemed nonplussed to Haddiya, the gang squinted at the second name. Zander took a moment, and leaned closer to them, "That was the real name of Mister Omir Steindorf."

Soos gasped. "That wasn't his real name either!?"

While the twins and Wendy stared at Soos, Zander continued. "Since they helped make me who I am, I've never really needed to explain myself to anyone else, let alone my weirdness."

"Which is plentiful," Dipper added, and noted in his book, "But cool. Kinda cool."

"Thank you, Dipper," Zander warmly said.

"So," Zander stood, and walked towards Wendy, "Let me correct a mistake now." Wendy, looking to her peers, recoiled slightly as Zander towered over her. His eyes shone with a regret, and he reached out to her hand and gently took it. "I'm sorry. I left you alone for all these weeks, and I could have started this with you sooner."

"Started… what?" Wendy asked.

The hairs on Dipper's neck stood on end. He gasped, and clapped a hand to the side of his head. "Bill was right," he quietly realized. "You do know how to cure a wraith!" he exclaimed to Wendy.

Zander nodded. Wendy nodded, her body growing rigid. "I thought so. You said we'd talk about this back at the Haunted house-"

"Mansion," Soos corrected.

"Residence!" Wendy snapped, a heat behind her words, "Whatever. Zander, how much do you know?"

"Everything," he declared.

As Wendy rocked in her stance, Dipper barked, "What does that mean, everything!? How do you know everything!? Why didn't you just help if you knew!?"

Zander put a leveling hand on Wendy. It stabilized her. The two shared a look, and Zander nodded. "Yes," he told her quietly, "It's exhausting. The aches. They aren't pain, but something worse, something unrelenting. Every day you think you get used to the pain and it numbs, a new intensity arrives. You spend weeks, sometimes, wondering if it'd just be better to eat something painful, because then it'd be a different sensation."

"And that's just the hunger," he added, "The throat aches for water it cannot have, and so sometimes you consider just sitting in a body of water. Drowning might feel nicer than the constant tightness of absolute dehydration. But the thing that really kills you," Zander continued, inching closer, his eyes darkening, "Is the fatigue. Always strong, never feeling it. Feeling so wobbly you can't think straight without considering all your various options first, and responses. Dreams, Wendy. Can you remember what dreaming was like? To not be stuck thinking forever, never a moment to rest your mind? And then when you try, dare to try resting: that ravenous darkness. The void that comes chasing you the moment you think you can close your eyes and rest; does that sound… accurate?"

Wendy's mouth had fallen open. A scared, small voice of hers asked, "How… that's perfect."

"What?" Mabel quietly gasped. "Is… that right? That's horrible."

Zander turned away, telling Mabel as he walked to his seat, "If she is anything like me, yes."

"Woah," Soos put his hands together to form a T, "Time out. What was that, dawg?"

Dipper's entire body felt like it was made of cast iron; rigid and cold. He slowly turned, which took great effort. He had listened intently to every word Zander had said. Each syllable had been a potential clue, a coming passage of information cleverly worded. He hadn't been prepared for the nuclear strike of information that Zander had ended with.

Mabel had turned to her brother. "What does that mean? What does he mean, Dipper?"

Dipper, eyes wider than they had been since the events at the compound, stated, "Zander is a wraith."

---

His eyes hadn't left the stairs leading up since they had left with Zander. Stanford puzzled, his gaze fixed upon the clean stairs that ascended. Those stairs had carried away a squad of people he had come to feel a great amount of responsibility over the course of two weeks. It was no small amount of responsibility; many decades ago (or one to two, to Fords perspective), Shermie had been born, and with it a swell of grand brotherly concern. Of course, the age difference had given the youngest of three a whole generational gap, and thus Ford almost had felt like an estranged cousin, more than a brother. Still, when he would look upon the small form of the youngest Pines son, Ford knew that he could be there for him: once he was done with his school, or his research into the strange.

With these kids, these new kids, he almost felt more like an elder cousin than a great uncle. There was a sense of comradery that had grown quickly, despite Dipper's course behavior, or Mabel's distrust of Ford's understanding of Arcana. In ten days, Ford's world had grown, and shrunk, all at once. Never did he think that attitude-filled teenagers would be the source of his second-chance of adventure.

An all-too familiar ache on his neck flared up. There was the sickly warmth of long-term embarrassment again. As much as he saw the growing kinship with him, the twins, Corduroy and Ramirez, he saw past it. He remembered the events that led him here: the night where Stan had broken his perpetual motion generator. The entire day stung, and the memory of that night dug deep with its venom. He could see the look of hope fading from his young brother as he waved up to Ford in the window. To Ford's great pain, he had closed the curtains, and sat alone on the bed in a room built for two.

"Stanford?"

Stan jolted. He turned. "Ah," he put his best smile back on his face as Delilah Pines approached, followed closely by Jenson Pines. "Yes. Sorry, I was far away."

"Not literally though," Delilah asked, peering up at him as she examined him from several angles, "Right? Nothing weird or strange? Just a bit… tired?"

The instinct to raise an eyebrow at her never appeared. He was so accustomed to the weird that it was a comfort to know that his Nephew had, indeed, married weird. He smiled. "No, no, the average way of losing oneself to thought."

Jenson shuddered. "I hate it when I do that."

"Ah," Ford leaned closer, "Some thoughts yourself keeping you awake at night?"

"Memories of dad trying to remind me how important it was to fight my own fights," Jenson grumbled, "Or how to swindle someone the fastest."

Ford let out a bark of a laugh. "Wow! He sounds just like my dad- Riiiight," he scratched his neck, "Shermie. Took after our old man in the end. It's strange to think that he's a man, and thirty years my senior. Wonder if he looks like dad too. Hope not, for his sake."

Delilah snorted. "Can't imagine he'll take well that you're young again."

"Speaking of not taking it well," Jenson eyed him, "Why didn't you ever call him back?"

Ford blinked. "Call him back?"

Jenson shrugged. "He said that he tried calling you. Ever since your brother died, that is."

Stanford stared at them as if he had just been told the least amusing factoid in existence. He took in a long breath, and then asked, "Since my brother what?"

"Well," Jenson pocketed his hands, "What dad told me is that a few years after I was born, Uncle Stanley died in a crash. You took it pretty hard," Jenson squinted at him, "You changed."

"I changed?"

"Yeah, you became a little less… tidy."

"And smelled worse," Delilah shrugged.

Glowering, Ford announced grumpily, "He stole my identity. He stole my identity for thirty years."

"Oh," Delilah realized, "That does make more sense than a complex divergence of personality."

Jenson asked, "Does that mean you didn't get married?"

Ford gasped, "I am certainly not!" He then stood a tad taller, adjusting his collar, "Not out of inability, mind you. Time is a valuable commodity, which I spent furthering my study of the paranatural and supernormal."

Squinting, Delilah inquired, "Superpowers? Paranorman?"

"No no, paranatural and supernormal," Ford smiled, "See, paranormal and supernatural are oddities in themselves. What is adjacent to 'normal', hm? The definition of normal is fluid, so what can be considered outside normal, exactly? And what is 'superior natural', after all? Naturality is a concept by human standards, after all. See, I prefer Paranatural, adjacent to natural, and supernormal, superior normality."

Delilah leaned to her ex, and quietly said, "You sure this isn't your time-scrambled, long-lost brother? Or father? Close cousin?"

Jenson shook his head. "It certainly explains where in the family all the smarts went. Dad said Gran and Pop-pop were smart, in a grifter sort of way, but not like this." To the beaming scientist, Jenson asked, "So, then, Gravity Parks-"

"Falls. Gravity Falls," Ford corrected.

"Right," Jenson tried again, "It was real?"

"Of course!" Ford cried out. "I spent well over a decade in that sleepy town, uncovering its weird secrets, and strange facts: From mushrooms that cure bad breath to ancient alien sight-seers."

As Jenson seemed to hit a mental roadblock, Delilah chuckled. "Well, sure could have used those mushrooms. I get terrible morning breath."

"They're not fun to cultivate," Ford sighed, "Growing in areas that smell vile makes them an uncomfortable crop, to say the least. All the effort to cure bad breath requires gestation in a place that smells like a combination of foot stink and locker rooms."

"Eugh," Delilah groaned.

"Exactly!" Ford pointed at her, "That's my discovery: Grosseughma Oregonense. Mushrooms that only grow in gross environments. They absorb stink for energy."

Jenson, who had recovered, asked pointedly, "But it is safe, right?"

"The mushrooms?" Ford asked.

"No! Gravity Falls!" Jenson snapped. Ford's mouth closed, and he stared with his best, wide-eyed poker face. Jenson leaned a little closer. "We sent our kids to a town, allegedly to you, or your brother, I guess. It was safe?"

"Well, uh," Ford cleared his throat, "Rest assured, that should I have been there, I would not have recruited your children into being assistants to my cause. Not without, of course, your expressed permission."

"Holy Moses," Jenson whispered, "It was dangerous."

Delilah glared at him. "All woods and parks are dangerous, Jenson. Coyotes and stuff exist. Are you going to lock up Mason and Mabel just because they could run into trouble?"

Jenson defiantly said, "Yes. Definitely. Absolutely."

Delilah turned to Ford. "Your nephew, my ex, worries too much."

Ford shrugged. "It's a step up from his other uncle," Ford then laughed, "At least he worries at all." Delilah and Ford shared a quick laugh. Jenson cast each a scathing look, and sighed.

"I'm getting water. All this excitement is a bit much." Walking away, he paused, and looked to the two once more. "Need anything?"

"Nope," Delilah told him, "Go get your water and drink off the anxiety."

As Jenson strolled off, Ford watched him go. He was tall, just like the Pines tended to be. He was similarly broad of shoulders like himself and Stanley, but had a nervousness that Ford could relate to. The smile on his face, seeing another Pines that was even close to himself, grew wider yet. He turned to Delilah, about to ask her something, and caught himself.

She watched her ex go, a horribly mixed expression of pain on her face. Clearing his throat, Stan caught her attention. She scoffed. "My turn to be distracted. Sorry."

Ford nodded. Honing in on her, he asked, "You're… unhappy, aren't you?"

Delilah's smile drooped. "No, I'm fine," she lied terribly.

Stanford, uncertain how to proceed, nodded. Perhaps it was best to agree, even if his heart told him otherwise. "Yes… you look… happy?" he tried, his own best lie a terrible one.

She groaned, her frail mask of emotions crumbling around her like a sand castle to a gentle tide. "It's that obvious, isn't it?" she asked him.

He half-shrugged. Discomfort becoming residual, Stanford explained, "The twins explained a bit of your story to me when they were catching me up on the ride. I'm sorry. I imagine that wasn't easy for either of you."

Gloom spreading throughout her form, Delilah crossed her arms and stared after her ex. "Being back with him like these for these weeks has been hard."

"Fights?"

"No," Delilah sighed, "Not really. I tease him, sure, and he never cares. I wish he would," she looked at the ceiling, "At least then it'd be easy to just be professional. Or grumpy. Or whatever two divorced parents do."

Ford scratched his chin. He told her, "As far as I know, pretty catty behavior; scowl hearing your ex's name, leave the room hastily in their presence, write biography's and refer to having a child with them as merely 'having mated'." He paused, and stared at her. He repeated her words, "You wish he'd care?" She nodded. "You want him to be upset?"

She looked to her ex-family-in-law. "Look," she told him, "We weren't alike. Ever. I liked to put flowers in my hair, and he had severe pollen allergies. He enjoyed collecting rocks, and I liked skipping them across creeks. He wanted to play Battlesaber, and I wanted to send Godzilla to eat them."

Ford answered, "There is a kaiju module for Battlesaber. You could have done that."

She smirked. "For second edition Battlesaber. Jenson plays fifth."

"There were three more editions?" Ford's eyes twinkled.

"Yes, and that isn't the point, yunkle," Delilah glared at him.

"W-What did you call me?" Ford stammered.

"Yunkle," she shrugged, "Young uncle."

"So that is where Mabel gets her alliterative amalgamation prowess from," Ford nodded to himself, taking a mental note. At the continual sadness in Delilah's eyes, Ford relented in his temporary excitement. He looked back to his nephew. The man was sipping at his water, and looking out the windows, a certain crestfallen nature to him. "I have the feeling that both of you are unhappy," Ford scratched at his neck, five digits doing their work to relieve the weird sensation of uncomfortable topics.

Delilah nodded. She quietly explained, "Neither of us thought we'd spend this much time together again. I mean," she snorted, "I'm fine. Honestly," she chuckled, "It's kind of nice to see how much he's changed in the two and a half years we've been apart. But… I think I make him uncomfortable now."

The noise that came from Ford startled her, and it startled himself. He was not, as he would put it, a charismatic guy. Certainly, when it came to talking the talk, he was always in his brother's shadow. So, in a moment where he listened to the saddened tones of his nephew's ex lament, he should not be too surprised that he let out a small, awkward, laugh. His face immediately cooked; he felt a heat seep into his cheeks and neck.

"Sorry," he immediately apologized, a hand at his mouth.

The mother's face looked stoney. An eyebrow raised, Delilah pointedly asked, "I didn't realize you found that funny."

Panic flooded Ford's mind. "I do not!" he protested.

Her energy leeched, Delilah crossed her arms. "I'm going to get some air," she told him, and marched by.

"No," Ford quietly pleaded, turning to face her as she left, "I – it was just –" as she departed, he felt the truth slip from his lips, "Reminded me of… my brother and I."

"Is that so?"

Ford yelped out of his skin. Whirling about, he found the source of the voice that had felt like it was inches from him. To his terror, it had been inches from him: Harmony, the stage manager. The woman had snuck up directly behind him. She hadn't moved in his sudden twist and jump. Holding his chest for breath, Ford whined, "Please do not do that! Made me think the Hide Behind was back."

The cold woman squinted. If she had been distracted by his words, it was only for a moment. With a raised eyebrow, she stated, "I know the story of your family."

"O-oh?" Ford stammered.

"Yes, the twins," she glared at him. "Miss Corduroy, and mister Ramirez, all accounted for. Zander made it very clear of his fascination with them. They had qualities that engaged him, made him think they could help him in this goal." She took a step closer, once again inches from Ford. As his face grew hot from the proximity, she spoke again, "But you: nothing. He had nothing to say about you this summer."

"This summer?"

The edges of her lip curled up. She gave him a smile that felt as friendly as a stiletto knife. "Since June. Zander's kept tabs on the movers and shakers of Gravity Falls; Stanley Pines, The Northwests, his precious little student Arline, the twins and their friends. You never came up, not even once. Now," she leaned forward, and Ford felt his legs bend back, trying to allow space between them, "How is it that you managed to remain hidden?"

Taking a full step back, Ford cleared his head. "You see, my explanation is a complex one, but I shall happily elucidate your concerns for any perceived espionage." Her face visibly fell. Ford, undeterred, elaborated, "Thirty years ago, with some unintended help from the demon Bill Cipher, I made a device that broke the barriers of time and space and dimension itself. I, as far as I know, fell into it."

"Now, thirty-three years passed for me," Ford continued, "and an event called a 'reality explosion' went off in Gravity falls. This did not create any thermal expansion, nor shrapnel, but instead erased what had existed in Gravity Falls, as if every single thing present hadn't existed. This, you see, is where my fortune, or misfortune, comes into effect."

"If Gravity Falls hadn't existed, I couldn't have made my portal device. If my portal device hadn't existed, I could not have been swallowed by it in the first place. Hence, I have returned."

"Then why aren't you in you an elder?" Harmony pointedly asked.

"Ah!" Ford pointed to her, beaming, "You're sharp! I obviously should have aged – save for the fact that what was done was un-done. This was not the explosion returning me, so much as it was… well, un-doing my events. Furthermore, due to my lack of existence in this time, space, and dimension, I seemed to have been unaffected by the events of passing time. After all, if I am not present in the universe, I would not have felt its passage of time."

"That," Harmony scowled, "Is annoyingly complex. Couldn't you have shortened it to 'I've returned from another dimension'?"

"Wouldn't be accurate," Ford huffed, "It would be more accurately summarized to be 'I returned from nonexistence'." At that, Harmony shivered. Ford laughed, adding, "Though, as far as I have been informed, the me from this timeline has undergone more-" Harmony stared, wide-eyed, at him at the term 'me from this timeline', but Ford continued, "Rigorous treatments, I never experienced a moment passed being picked up by the anti-gravity of the portal's well. As far as I know it, the eighties were just eleven days ago."

"Sometimes I wish they were," Harmony quietly grumbled.

Ford snickered. He pointed to her, "I can imagine. I am sure that, with the medical practices at the time, it was easier to collect blood, and do so without being detected-"

Harmony rushed into his face, her face stretched thin as fury and cold vengeance poured out of her eyes. "What was that you said, little scientist?!" she hissed to him, just a decibel over a whisper.

Feeling sweat building along his forehead, Stan adjusted the hem of his shirt. "Well, I didn't want to say out loud, and felt like in single company, you wouldn't mind my observation."

"And that would be?"

"…Vampire?" Ford asked. Her darkening eyes closed, and she leaned back. The woman of sharp looks readjusted herself. His hands still up, he assured her, "I make no efforts to weaponize this knowledge! I was just observing."

With a low growl, Harmony said, "Pines. They have a gift of observation." She looked to him, the whites of her eyes filling with a bloody-red color. She then snarled, "If I find you ever use said knowledge against me, or those I work with, I will kill you."

Seeing the red fill her eyes, Ford crossed his arms. He asked, "Blood-art is a power vampires spend many years learning to master," Ford reached for his hip, and then scowled, "Ah, right." He snapped two sets of fingers with his hand, "Dipper. Or Mason, whatever his parents called him."

Harmony leaned closer, her narrowed eyes emitting a dangerous energy. "You're not taking my threats seriously, Mister Pines. That could cost you."

Despite the insistence of danger, Ford chuckled. "Oh, I am certainly taking the presence of a dangerous creature seriously, but not the chance that you will act upon those predator instincts."

"You're awfully bold," Harmony warned him.

"Yes, I am, but more so, I am methodical," Ford detailed, "Knowing that you're likely far older than you appear, I deduced that your relationship with Mister Maximillion, or Orvas, as you call him, runs deep. Orvas Maximillion was, after all, a name he used during the nineteen hundreds, meaning you're close enough that he has revealed much of his obscured past, or you've witnessed it. Knowing that, you aren't going to jeopardize his goals – you're with him for the long haul. Whether or not we understand it, Zander Maximillion has decided that I am worth keeping alive and around. Thus: you won't hurt me."

From a scowl, Harmony the stage-manager vampire had her eyebrows raise. The red in her eyes faded, and she leaned back to her normal stance. "There was a time I'd have killed a man for saying even half of that," she awarded Stanford, "And we're in strange times. I suppose you're right: I won't kill you for now. Don't make me regret these choices."

Ford assuaged her, "I only want to know. For example," he let out an awkward chuckle, "How is it you are as close to him as it seems?"

Harmony looked aside, considering. After a moment, she shrugged, and told him, "Three hundred years ago, he rescued me from a den of vampires. He led me to be raised in an environment of privilege. When the environment turned sour, he helped me stand on my two feet. I've never forgotten his kindness. Nor have I forgotten his power."

"His power?"

She chuckled darkly. "I am a dangerous thing, Mister Pines," she assured him, "Someone that can kill, and who has. All my strengths and weaknesses combined do not hold a match to the raging fire that is the Guardsman, Orvas, Zander. We all should fear his capability. But… no," she frowned at looked to the side, "I do not believe that I fear him. Perhaps… I think I owe him my help. He never wants to hurt anyone. He's just rather stupid at times."

"Heh, I know the type," Ford snickered, "Strong, and then kind of stupid from time to time."

Harmony looked back to him. With a side of her mouth curling to smile, she told him, "I won't be keeping my eyes on you, Mister Pines. Do not make me regret that choice."

As she turned and strode away, Ford assured her back, "I won't! I'm just trying to be helpful, and learn more! That's all."

Stanford played with his knuckles. The conversations he had with Miss Harmony, with Delilah and Jenson, it all made him feel… weird. Not the fun kind of weird he liked, but he continued to feel out of place. He, of course, knew that he was out of place. Between being a strange fellow himself, and being more than thirty years misplaced, Ford pondered how he was supposed to ever feel like he fit in again. Holding his hand to his side, he looked to his palm, wondering what to do with himself? How could he help himself feel better?

In a moment, he saw their faces when he congratulated them. Dipper, Mabel, their friends; they smiled at him. He felt a calm, like he was home. A familiar face giving him grief, while at peace seeing him; it was like Stanley was at his side already. He sighed, feeling a pleased warmth spread over his shoulders and arms like a blanket.

---

The four turned slowly to see the man take a seat. The face of warmth slid away, as Zander relaxed fully. Even with his previously charming demeanor, he sat with such a slouch that made him seem angry and exhausted. He looked to the group at large with eyes that hadn't felt true rest in ages.

Wendy, with no need to breath, let out a long breath. "This whole time," she whispered, "You had the answers." Zander, his eyes falling to the floor, nodded. The lips on Wendy's face twisted as she scowled. "You let me and Dipper struggle all this time. How could you? You could have helped!"

The being sitting in the chair shook his head. "Not in any meaningful way," he told them.

Bursting with energy, Dipper roared, "How could you be anything but meaningful!? You've known just about every twist and turn we've had to go through since you've arrived in Gravity Falls! Steindorf, Graupner, even Bill! If you're really a wraith, then you must have important knowledge for us!"

"I know a little of Bill," Zander argued, "I don't know about him. That was a Haddiya thing, not me." Dipper glared at him, the burning eyes of a knowledge-thirsty teenager boring into Zander's own. The ancient man nodded, and acknowledged him, saying, "But fair is fair. I've been holding back."

The truth, ever a pursuit for Dipper, snuffed the flames of anger. He shook his head, and looked to the others. Mabel cast to Dipper a sad look, and Soos seemed nervous. Dipper pleaded with Zander, "Why? Why did you hold back on us?"

Zander pursed his lips. "It would have distracted you."

Wendy snapped back, "From what?"

"Survival."

"Survi-" Dipper repeated, then he laughed. Shaking his head, Dipper boasted, "I think we've done a good job at surviving, with and without your help, thanks."

"You think so?" Zander asked, his eyebrows rising. He leaned forward, his tone sharpening. "You have no idea what the help I offer even is. How do you know it wouldn't have gotten in your way?"

"Sure I do!" Dipper laughed. "It's some sort of magic ritual, undoing the curse of the wraith."

"No," Zander shook his head, "It is not."

Dipper's mouth opened wide, and then closed with a clop of his teeth. Timidly, he asked, "It… isn't?"

"Wait," Mabel rose her hand up, "You sure? I mean, I can imagine it might be some weird sorta techno-trick, but magic seems… right?" she surmised.

Letting his posture drop, Zander's head fell to rest just by his knees. He asked aloud, looking to the floor, "I remember something Bill Cipher told you all, last night. In my head, right?"

Wendy crossed her arms. "You're going to have to be more specific than that, dude. He said a lot of messed up stuff."

Zander tilted his head around, peeking through his arms at them with one eye. "What was Bill's answer to Dipper's question?"

Soos chuckled, and quickly spouted, "Oh, eat veggies, drink water, and get plenty of sleep." Zander straightened up and then leaned back into his chair; a frustrated, forced smile on his face. Soos, waiting for a correction, or perhaps details, blinked. "I don't get it," he told the room.

Zander, with a mixture of amusement and fury, told them, "And there is the truth. Out of Soos' mouth: eat, drink, sleep."

Dipper scowled. "Don't lie to us, Zander," he warned.

"Yeah," Wendy said, downcast, "Wraiths can't do that."

Mabel gasped, and hopped closer to the rockstar. "Oh no! Did Bill alter your mind? Maybe you really believe that stupid stuff now!" She spun to her brother, hands squeezing Zander's cheeks and chin, "Dipper, we might need to go back into his mind!"

Zander snorted. "Please don't. Besides, you need someone to sleep, and, well," Zander gently patted Mabel's hands, "You saw what happened last time I was put to sleep, and then woke up."

Like she felt a hot surface, Mabel peeled her hands away, and stepped back. The room was quiet once again. The reminder to Zander's outburst the night before was a sour, touchy subject. Zander stood up, and walked over to a bookshelf. He pointed his finger across many titles, eventually drifting on one. He snorted, and pulled it out. Walking to Wendy, he handed it over.

Wendy, holding the book up, read aloud, "Nomnology; the New-Age Guide to Good Gobblin'?"

"A wraith," Zander explained as he walked back to the shelf, "Is a curse-type of undead. Many undead, you see, are just… puppets of flesh and bone. Some, like ghosts, lack flesh and bone, and are often slaves to a memory or cause. But some, like Wights, Wraiths, and Liches," he let out a heavy sigh, "Have all three: body, mind, and spirit."

"A wight is arguably lucky," Zander grimly told them, "They're bound to another soul: often the necromancer that created them. They can think, but they're really just slaves to the will of another. A lich is theoretically the most powerful type of undead, but come at costs: either their sanity, or a need for fresh souls; you know, the evil stuff. And then, there's us," he indicated Wendy and himself, "Wraiths."

He pulled out a book, which held the title, 'Myths, Monsters, and Madness', and flipped through some pages. "Wraiths are considered wild, dangerous monsters that haunt locations. Even with flesh and blood, they are often considered unstoppable. Wounds close up, death seems unattainable without complete and total bodily destruction. Well, they're not far off, I guess. Most wraiths lose their minds and simply wander around their familiar land, screaming at or attacking anyone they see."

"Yet," Zander sneered, "With all that said and done, the spell isn't actually that complex. Robbie was able to replicate it in one attempt. Graupner as well. See, the most beneficial thing about the spell, and greatest news for Miss Corduroy here, is that it is actually remarkably easy to undo due to its simplicity."

Wendy cried out, "You're really serious, dude!? All I have to do is eat and stuff?"

"Well… sorta," Zander put aside the book he had held. "Wraiths are in the half step between life and death. One foot in each door, so to say. When we eat, or drink, or sleep, we act in a way that is alive. Being alive causes the spell's longevity to fade, and the real, living you to return. Basically, you need to re-start the engine of living."

Dipper pointed out, "But Wendy can't! You can't! You even said so earlier."

Mabel added, "Hunger, thirst, fatigue, right? That awful stuff, you poor undead Martian space princess," she told Wendy, receiving an amused, thankful smile.

Zander lifted his finger up. "A point: can't, or won't? Does it hurt enough that you stop?"

The eyes on the twins bugged wide. They looked to Wendy, who frowned. "It hurts a lot."

"Life does," Zander snorted, "And jump-starting life hurts."

Dipper slammed his palm to his head. "That's it!" he furiously started to write in his journal. "The answer! It wasn't a pain to keep you from burdening yourself with tasks of life, like I thought. It's a pain to stop you from curing yourself!"

Zander beamed, and pointed to Dipper. "Bingo."

Mabel snorted. "Yeah right, magic doesn't get solved like that. Right?" she asked Dipper.

"Well," Dipper, still furiously writing, "I mean, it can? Sometimes it's as simple as we think it is. All powerful ghosts haunting an island? Calm them down, get them to reconcile. Demon possessing someone? Just out-do their thinking." Her offered a thrilled look to Wendy. "Maybe, just maybe, Zander's right? And all you have to do is eat, drink, and sleep?"

Soos walked over, and put a hand on Wendy' shoulder. "Dawg, I am going to be your perfect guide on this journey. Call me Soos Sempai."

Rolling her eyes towards Soos, Wendy shook her head back towards Dipper. "But I have eaten. I've had food since the curse happened! I mean, like, not much, because it sucked, but-" She looked to Zander with a helpless look, and asked "How can it be that simple?"

He looked to the nearest window. "The evil of the curse is thorough; how you are cured is almost as bad as the gradual decay of your existence. Do you choose to be in agony as you are denied comfort, or do you willingly increase your suffering in attempts to live again? Without any expertise or knowledge, you wouldn't know to endure the pain, but rather avoid the additional agony."

"But, again," Wendy stepped over to him in a huff, "I have eaten!"

Zander's eyes twinkled as he asked, "Do you think you've eaten enough to keep you alive all this time? Same for rest and drink?"

"Meaning… what?" Wendy asked.

With an excited cry, Dipper declared, "Oh my god! I get it! That's evil!" As Wendy faced him, he explained further, "It must work like some loan on life needs. So, for example, as a wraith, if you haven't eaten or drank or slept, and do that for three days," he looked to Zander, "You'd need three days worth of those things to make up the difference! All the while, your body fights you, because it's all painful and uncomfortable!"

The rockstars smile stretched ear to ear. "That's perfect, buddy."

Elated, Dipper turned to Wendy. Feeling his heart pounding in his throat, Dipper announced, "That means all you need is three years!" Wendy looked out of focus, her eyes drifting onto Dipper and staying locked onto him without really seeing him. He laughed, levity finally arriving in some form. "Wendy, we can cure you!"

Mabel cheered, leaping high into the air. "Sweet Moses that is the best news we've had since Zander being alive!" She then giggled, and looked to him. "Well, not gone, I mean. Wraith stuff, you know."

The redhead turned and looked around. She saw Mabel, who beamed at her. She looked to Soos, who had sparkling, tears-forming eyes. She glanced to Zander, who offered her a tired, proud smile. Then they fell onto Dipper, who was breathing heavily. "I… can be normal again?"

Dipper, laughing despite himself, answered, "You can be you again." Wendy rushed over to Dipper, and swung her arms around him, lifting him up into a powerful, bear-like embrace. Dipper gasped from the intense squeezing, and laughed.

Wendy's chest throbbed, and she let out a weeping laughter. "I'm going to be me again!" she cried to the ceiling.

Mabel and Soos rushed to their side. For the first time in a long while, the four survivors of Gravity Falls shared a true embrace. How long had it been since they had felt hope like that? There was laughter, intermingled with the stifled tears and sobbing of Wendy Corduroy, who had just been given her best piece of news in years.

As the four slowly allowed themselves space, Zander quietly cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Mable spun around as the four looked to him.

Zander, smiling to them, explained, "I hope you can understand why I withheld this. I promise that I was going to tell you at the end of all of this, but I know that doesn't mean much. I swear that I wasn't trying to keep you from this. Just… well, imagine everything you've undergone, right? Now, add Wendy's increasing vulnerability. The frustration that comes with reclaiming your humanity, your very life. And all the while: you're doing everything you've done this summer. A missed meal is a setback. Every day you miss a bit of food, drink, rest, you grow more resentful of your quest, and the task still ahead of you. I… I didn't want to tell you until we had finished, and you could see yourself undergoing this healing without distraction."

"That said," he quietly said, "I… still could have given you something. A shred of hope. And… truthfully, I was afraid that you'd fear me even more if I made it clear I knew too much. Look how you reacted when you found out I was the Guardsman instead of Zander Maximillion?"

Dipper deflated. Wendy gave Zander a thoughtful nod, wiping at her eyes. Mabel, ever the positive, smiled. "But you've told us now! Wendy can begin to heal." As Zander nodded to her statement, Mabel frowned. She asked, "So… is that why you acted the way you did?" she got a bit quieter, and clarified, "Last night? After being woken up? That was your first time getting any real rest for hundreds of years?"

As Zander solemnly nodded, Dipper added, "At least several hundred. You were around before the creation of the Starkissed Stone of Conservation, which was… the fifteen hundreds, right?"

"Technically the sixteenth century," Zander clarified, "But I'm just a bit older than that. I haven't gotten a good night's sleep in… well, let's just say it might be too late for me, now."

"Wait, what?" Wendy glared at him, "You can't be serious. You just gave me all this awesome hope, and you're going to dismiss helping yourself?"

While Wendy's heated reaction came first, it was Dipper who, quietly, shook the room. "We've never seen you eat. Your kitchen was never stocked. You had water bottles in there for visitors, and just ordered food when guests came by. That means you've not been eating. You know how to cure yourself, but aren't. That means either you like being a wraith, which I sincerely doubt."

"Correct," Zander awarded him a smile and nod.

"Or," Dipper gulped, "You have, for some reason, decided not to cure yourself."

Zander sighed and let out a long, pained sigh. He turned away, looking to an unfinished painting. "The knowledge I have on wraiths came much later in my life. It wasn't until Haddiya and I started to experiment on myself that we discovered half the things I know. The Re-living process," he chuckled, and told them, "That's what she called it, takes you as much time to undergo as you have lost. I had gone so long that… it'd take thousands of years before I'd catch up."

Soos's eyes bulged. "T-Thousands, dude!?"

"No way, dude," Wendy quietly muttered.

As Mabel's eyes fell to the ground sadly, Dipper frowned. He inquired "That was plural; thousands. Not one thousand, but more than one." To Dipper's words, Zander nodded. "Wait," Dipper frowned, "You said you knew more before Haddiya Sahar and you figured out stuff. How… did you know? Wait," mental cogs of the mind machine always turning, Dipper asked, "You know something about Wraiths from an origin point, don't you? Like… you knew the first wraith!"

Zander chuckled. "You're almost correct," Zander warranted to Dipper, "See, I do know the first wraith. In that way, I am uniquely privileged. But, sadly enough, so do you four."

As if she had seen a piece of a dark divine being, Mabel whispered, "Oh my gosh."

Zander said to them, "You have the distinction in knowing me: Zander Maximillion. I am also the Guardsman. And… I am also the first wraith."

The world was loud with the sounds of the wind beyond the walls, the creaking of the walls, and the occasional distant voices from far below. The five occupants in the room were deathly quiet. What near silent breaths escaped the mouths of the twins and Soos beheld a room filled with awe, perhaps mingled with fear. Zander turned to the bookcase, and placed his original book back, leaving his hand resting on its spine.

"The… first wraith?" Dipper repeated.

Holding his hand up for a moment, Zander glanced over his shoulder. He nodded. Then he turned, looking to the entranced four. "I was made as a test. It was very, very long ago; a few centuries before the rise of the roman empire."

"The what!?" Dipper stammered.

"Shh!" Mabel hissed.

"There, I encountered my first master. My enslaver. My… killer."

"No," Mabel quietly whined.

Zander continued. "He was a terrible monster. All said though, a man, and a pioneer amongst mages. He feared death, losing his progress, and cared little for others. See, he got it in his head that death was something magic could control. He practiced a lot before he got to me – had a small army of corpses at his side. He might have been Europe's first 'modern' necromancer. I sometimes wonder if half the reasons fantasy consider necromancy evil is because of him."

"What was his name?" Soos asked.

Zander shrugged. "I don't know. He never told me in all the years I knew him. Or I forgot. It's been so long."

"What an absolute tar pit," Mabel growled.

"But he had this idea," Zander scoffed, "that if a body could maintain its youth perpetually, its mind indefinitely, and soul forever, why not bind all three into one spell? Well, the answer," Zander chuckled darkly, "Is because the three suffer equally. See, once a wraith, you no longer need; but forever want. You want food, drink, sleep and dreams. And, truthfully, you do need them. Even though Wendy and I won't perish because of our lack of these things, we suffer because of them. That man thought it was novel. After he killed, and then rose me up, he made notes of his study on me. Years later, I would be free, and would have to figure out my problems on my own."

"He just let you leave?" Wendy asked.

Zander shook his head. "He had kept me on a leash the entire time. One day, he was a little distracted with an important spell of his: Lichdom. I just so happened to realize he couldn't focus that moment on anything else, and took my shot."

"And escaped?" Soos cheerfully asked.

"Killed him," Zander darkly answered with doom.

Soos hissed out breath. "Yeesh. Well, dawg, sounds like he had it… coming."

"But the curse continued," Zander told them, and then winced. He corrected himself, "Continues, and was far too late for me. When Haddiya and I figured out how a wraith could return to normalcy, I realized that in order to return to a life-like state, I would need to spend more than a thousand years in constant discomfort, more than I already was undergoing."

Soos shook his head. "Aw, dawg. I'm so sorry to hear, man."

Mabel frowned. "That doesn't sound like Haddiya," she argued, "Giving up on you."

Dipper laughed. "And you would know her better than him?"

"Well," Mabel pouted at her brother, "I did spend some soul-bonding time with her! So, yes! Maybe I do."

Zander chuckled. He explained, "She didn't give up. She knew that she needed to help me. And, thus… wait," he looked around. Pulling from his shoulders, he unraveled the dark fabric of his scarf and condensed it into a ball. Marching to his desk, he asked around, "Anyone see a projector? Old-school sorts. The kind you'd find in classrooms in public schools?"

Dipper's eyes grew wide. "You just have those lying around!?" he excitedly inquired.

Mabel snorted. "Nerd," she told Dipper.

"I did," Zander hummed, pulling out drawers, looking around shelves. He grumpily announced, "Harms. She must have cleaned it out. That's what I get for taking too long – I hadn't used it in a while anyway." He turned to the gang. "Anyone know how to make a make-shift projector?"

Soos took a step upon a chair. Suddenly, there was a wind in the room, as he removed his cap, placing it over his heart. He told them all. "I have heard it. My summons."

Zander asked the others, "Wait, what is going on?"

Soos rose his hands above him, and cried out, "F-Fixin' it with Sooooos!"

Zander asked Soos, "You can make a projector that works with this?" He pulled up his scarf, and it recoiled into a stone – a larger, palm-sized starkissed stone.

Soos then looked over his shoulder. "Hmm. I might need some expertise," he said, and glanced to the door leading out. Holding his held aloft arms, Soos crab-walked to the door. Walking through, and out the door, Soos declared, "F-Fixin' it with Soos, guest starring Mister Pines brother!"

It had taken Soos no more than three minutes to return with a bewildered Stanford Pines in tow. "Sorry, I was trying to get a grasp of the changes music has undergone in thirty years! I can't believe I missed a resurgence of the popularity of the seventies!" He had lamented as he stumbled in with Soos. Then, he saw the room, and his eyes had widened and drank it all in. "What a collection," he whispered.

Mabel, approaching Ford, announced, "We're trying to make a projector that works with Star-smoochers!"

Pink in the face, Ford pleaded to those around him, "Pardon?"

Dipper easily elaborated, "Starkissed stones. Zander needs a projector."

Soos, turning back to face the comprehending scientist, added, "See, I can totes build a projector. Not too hard, y'know? It's the whole 'making it work with weird magic rocks' thing that I'm not too keen on."

Ford's eyes rose up. "You have knowledge in lens craft and mirror work?" he asked with awe.

"Nah dawg," Soos chuckled, "It just doesn't sound that hard."

An impressed look flashed over Ford's eyes. He looked around, seeing the four onlookers before him, and then rolled up his sleeves. "It'll take a minute, maybe several. With Mister Ramirez as my aide, this shouldn't be a problem."

As the two started, Zander offered them a distant, "Thank you," before sitting down and rolling the orb in his hand around his arms like a toy.

Mabel, letting Dipper and Wendy watch the frantic, but methodical, process Ford and Soos underwent, walked over to Zander. She noted how heavy his eyes seemed to be – he watched the orb roll and leap around his arms like he was transfixed. Giving him a moment of quiet, she eventually asked, "Are you going to be okay showing them this stuff?"

The orb continued to be played with. Zander snorted, "I should be. Why do you ask?"

Mabel crossed her arms and hugged herself. She felt a cold from the memory of last night, something stuck to her and biting into the meat of her comfort. Guilt and anxiety mingling together, Mabel admitted, "I… went to the forbidden district."

With only a small pause, Zander merely said, "Ah. I guess that explains why I dreamed about Haddiya. It should be… okay. I think it'll be okay. Maybe…" Zander caught the orb in his palm and groaned. "Honestly, Mabel?" he sighed, "I don't know. I've not really… done anything like this before. The more I think about it, the more scared I get."

Mabel's heart violently throbbed. Sitting before him was the famous Zander Maximillion, the infamous Guardsman of the Paths, and they were acting vulnerable. Mabel gulped, and repeated, "Scared?"

He nodded. "You've, no doubt, seen some of the… terrible things I did in my past. What we saw at that compound was just another relapse," Zander said, his eyes fallen to the ground as he slumped in his seat.

Playing with the hem of her sweater, Mabel admitted, "I saw… some not great stuff. I wasn't all that surprised when you went all animal on those cultists." He looked up, into her eyes. It was intense, seeing those green eyes, knowing well that they were an intense silver just behind a thin line of plastic. He frowned, and Mabel quietly asked, "I made you mad, didn't I?"

Mabel watched him a moment, her already large eyes wider than normal, shimmering with anticipation. He snorted, and told her, "I'm not mad."

"Just disappointed?" Mabel guessed, her voice trembling.

Zander held back a laugh. "Nope, not disappointed. Nothing, you, your brother, or your friends, did made me unhappy. My… outburst," he carefully worded, "Was directed that the Rising Grasp. I wasn't re-diverting hatred, or holding off on you all. Fury just overtook me," he quietly explained.

Watching him with her big, shimmering eyes, Mabel joked, "Consult a doctor if it lasts four or more hours." Zander's eyes shot wide and his mouth dropped. Mabel slapped her face loudly. "Ugh, moses, just ignore me," she whined, "I'm being stupid, Zander. I'm sorry."

Despite her insistence of embarrassment, she heard him laugh. When she peeked out beyond her hand, she saw the man she had first seen, almost two months ago. The rockstar, charming smile, effortlessly laughing, felt alive again. Whatever trepidation and recursive shame she had felt evaporated. He beamed at her.

"Laughter helps," he told her, "It always helps."

Mabel giggled, her cheeks warming. She turned to look at her brother and Wendy, who were standing by a bookshelf, pointing at the titles of covers, and snickering. Her lips curved into a wide smile, and she asked Zander, "Do you think that's why Wendy came back to the Mystery Manor each summer?"

Zander winked at her. "I have no doubt. I've had many, many years of excitement," he told her, "and though I have had some close calls and dangerous moments, this particular summer might stand out as the one with the most laughs." He looked to Soos and Ford, rigging up a makeshift projector-looking contraption. He said quietly to Mabel, his smile sturdy but a stern look in his eyes, "No matter what comes from all of this, I am never going to forget this."

"Y-yeah?" Mabel asked him, feeling a tad breathless.

He nodded, and turned back to her. Warmth bleeding from his every pore, he put a hand on her shoulder. "You really stuck it out for me this whole time," he acknowledged. As Mabel went red in the face, Zander added, "I can't say I deserve your adoration and friendship, but I do appreciate it Mabel. I'm sorry for my lies and hidden truths."

"Well," Mabel shuffled in her place, seemingly taken off at the word 'friendship', "I, uh, thank you? I mean – bah, pffft," she blew a raspberry, and waved a funny, dismissive, limp hand towards him, "As long as this works out for everyone, who cares, right? All this trauma and angst – we'll laugh about it after this summer!" she giggled.

His smile stayed wide, but his face felt, for a moment, plastic. Zander told her, "I hope so. That's really all I can ask: a happy ending for everyone." As Mabel frowned, noticing his moment of oddly intense focus, he turned to Soos and Ford. "Is it ready?" he asked.

Mabel, very quietly and mostly to herself, grumbled, "Would it kill to get a smooch?"

As Zander walked around Mabel towards the inventors, Ford declared, "Oh yes! You have a wonderful selection of high-powered magnifying lens to select from."

Soos chuckled, "Combining Mister Pines brother with my Fixin'-it abilities, we made a new invention!"

As Ford quietly protested "Stanford, Soos. My name is Stanford," Dipper and Wendy approached, joining Mabel and Zander.

Dipper asked, "It took three minutes for you two to make a new invention?"

"Oh, no!" Ford chuckled. He and Soos wheeled a platform over, which contained something that looked like a cross between a gem-exhibit stand and a classroom projector. Ford elaborated, "It took a minute for us to come up with the blueprints, and then two minutes to put this together. Another thirty seconds were spent debating whether my brother had a right to turn my home into a tourist trap," he added, casting Soos a scathing look.

Soos, standing his tallest, proudly told the room, "The Mystery Manor brought income to the town, and had a sascrotch in it. Deal with it, Mister Pines brother."

"Stanford," Ford growled.

"Boys," Wendy cried aloud, "Focus dudes. Ugh," she shivered, "I sounded like my homeroom teacher for a second there."

Mabel put a hand on her shoulder and told her "We sometimes become what we hate to do what we must."

"Sadly true," Dipper agreed to his sister. He took his chance, and leaned forward, asking Zander, "So, why did they need to invent a new thing for you?"

Zander said, "They didn't need to. They could have helped me find my old one, but Soos seemed really excited about the idea."

Twirling a wrench in his hand, Soos clicked his tongue and pointed to Zander. "Got it, dawg."

Zander looked back to Dipper as he approached the device, "If this does what I need it to do, it is going to allow me to do broadcast the contents of this," he then tossed up the starkissed orb, catching it in mid-air.

Wendy said, "The thing you gave me?"

"Yup," Zander nodded.

"That thing that is also a scarf, somehow?" Dipper asked.

Zander chuckled. "Starkissed is a weird, weird material. Hundreds of years ago, magicians studied it for its many properties, but study for it ended after the Stone of Conservation was activated. So… couldn't really explain how I can do this," Zander said, and then allowed the orb in his hand to seemingly unravel. He took one end of it, and then wrapped it around his neck. "Tada!" he cheered, and then whirled his head around, allowing the scarf to recondense into an orb once more. "Spear, ball, cloth, frying-pan, any simple shape I want, as long as it has the same mass."

Stanford sighed, watching the performance. "It's a beyond fascinating substance. I truly wish pain upon those who didn't allow the study to continue!"

Zander made a worried chuckle. "Your wish is, and has been, granted for a long time." Before Ford could request clarification, he looked to Wendy. "See, Wendy, this thing is a gift." He walked over to the device, and placed it onto the part that looked like it belonged in a gem expose. "It was given to me by… someone very close."

"Haddiya," Mabel blurted out, only to then clap her hands to her lips. "Sorry!" she whimpered as the room turned to her, "I, uh, found out some secret deets in the forbidden district."

Zander smiled to her, and then looked back to Wendy. "If I had been destroyed or captured, I wanted it to go to a wraith. You'd find that the lingering aches and pains would start to numb. You'd not get back the things we miss, but you'd not be so distracted with all… well, you know."

Wendy stared at the orb. "The pain goes away?" she asked with great intensity and focus.

"It milds the pain. See, it's basically a translator for the soul and mind," Zander explained, "When the soul doesn't need to eat due to being undead, the curse of the wraith denies the conversation to the mind to happen."

"Which is why I'm so hungry, thirsty, etcetera," Wendy nodded.

Zander nodded. "This orb has an enchantment that would allow a wraith to get help. The magic within constructs a mind for a wraith that allows organization and processing, as if one could sleep."

Dipper snapped his fingers, pointing to it. "That's why it was a city instead of a palace! And why when we got there, the Sanitors acted like they'd just gotten back!"

Mabel leapt at her brother, adding, "And why they were so desperate to get to work, because three days of messy had built up!"

Soos asked, "Why'd they sound like dudes we knew?"

"The magic that enchanted them to be," Zander explains, "Uses my memories, memories a wraith can't normally access without sleep. The mind is like the body, ready to reject foreign objects that could be hostile. Reducing stress to the mind meant having the magic trick the mind into accepting them – using voices it was familiar with."

Dipper whistled. "That's really complex magic. Wait," he glared at Zander, "You hate magic. Like, any chance we get to use magic, you've been telling us not to. What the heck gives!?"

Ford piped up, "I too would like to point out the hypocrisy in warning others to use no magic when your entire stable existence hinges on a magical artifact gifted to you."

Zander, a hand out to each, pleaded, "Please, guys. Hold on. I know… I know that it is a bit hypocritical. I think that, by the end of this, you'll understand why I've sworn to keep people away from relying on magic."

"Even though you do?" Wendy inquired, cocking an eyebrow.

Zander looked to her, and replied, "Even though I must." He gave the orb a turn, pushing it along the sides of the device, "You of all people should know the dangerous ramifications of magic when mis-used."

The room was quiet when Zander flicked a switch on the monitor. Bright light, slightly tinted with some discoloration of age on the glass, filled the platform under the Starkissed orb. The light was directed through the stone, and it began to emit the beautiful, rainbow coloration that starkissed always emitted – an aura projecting itself out through the midnight black surface. A small beam of light pierced the orb, and entered a lens above it. From said lens, a blast of dim light filled the entire room.

The twins looked around in awe. There were minor points of light, like celestial bodies. Dipper, able to find a point of light, realized he could walk around it. He asked Ford and Soos, "It's a holographic projector?"

"Uh, I guess?" Soos nervously looked to Ford and shrugged.

Ford on the other hand nodded and smirked. "Darn right it is. Light passing through a Starkissed Stone has a tremendous amount of data, photons layered upon photons. With a bit of fenagling, I simply gave them structure. We won't just see what mister Maximillion wants us to, it'll come to life before our eyes."

At that information, Zander looked far more anxious than before. "Oh joy," he mumbled, "Seeing my memories again, in third person. But now with an audience! Yay," He groaned, and scratched at his hair. To the group at large, he asked, "Well, let's not hold back."

"Hold back?" Soos asked.

"Yup," Zander nodded, and asked plainly, "What do you want to know?"

---

To be continued in part 3.

ps, two songs in episodes, back to back!? I'm crazy! Hope you enjoyed them :)