Werewolf time. It may or may not be the mailman that Soos mentioned in the first episode. But that would be a little predictable, wouldn't it?

Or maybe it's a bunch of mailmen. Huh? HUH?

Chapter Seven: Friends First

Just a few hours after leaving the Northwest property and returning to the Shack, Dipper is awake again.

The Shack remained comfortably quiet when he returned, and Mabel was softly snoring in their room. He just slipped out of his shoes and fell into bed, not even bothering in removing his vest.

When sleep claimed him, his dreams were filled with the usual fantasies his subconcious mind concocted. Journeys filled with monster hunting and investigations, capturing and defeating all sorts of creatures in the rogue gallery, from ghosts to ghouls to demons and everything in between.

Stuff that, pre-Gravity Falls, would be outlandish and impossible, leaving Dipper waking up with disappointment. Now, every dream could very well be a premonition of next week's events.

Some new material had arrived in the fold though. Vague visions of blonde hair, porcelain skin, electric blue eyes, and a rare, but mesmerizing smile that seemed dedicated to him alone needed no introduction. They were thoughts that made his face contort happily, no doubt looking like a dumb oaf in his deep slumber.

But another person invaded his dreams too. And unlike the rich beauty, this one required introduction. A being without gender, a voice, or a face quickly conquered any blissful thoughts of the hours prior. All he could imagine was that darn hood staring at him through the tree line, purposefully drawing attention so he'd find that sword.

And how many other times had he been minding his business, even in the 'safety' of his room in the attic, had the being been watching him? For all he knew, it could've been every waking moment he's spent back in Gravity Falls.

That's the eerie realization that wakes him, nervous sweat coating his skin and his breathing heightened. He gained his bearings and managed to calm down, looking over at Mabel to find her still asleep, Waddles the same directly next to the desk in the middle.

Dipper rubbed his eyes and plopped back onto his pillow. If this kept on, he'd never get any proper sleep. He'd constantly be on alert, watching what he says or what he does, pondering exactly what this person wants. It's something he still can't wrap his head around. But the more he thought about it, the more it all seemed like someone's twisted way of messing with him. That journal had been planted in the woods. No one just writes down thirty pages worth of material then 'drops' the book conveniently so close to the Shack. Dipper was meant to find it.

But why? Is he just playing into the hands of this figure? Is the grand plan to gain his trust from afar by planting useful items? Why gain his trust in the first place? What does this person want with Dipper, and why is it only him they're after?

So many questions. He supposes he can't really complain, though. Grunkle Ford offered to resolve this matter himself, and Dipper was seriously considering taking him up on that.

But just as quick, he throws that idea out. No. This is his mess, and he'll fix it. A lot of the time, he relies on Mabel or Grunkle Ford or even Grunkle Stan to bail him out, but not this time. He won't let anyone get hurt here, especially the people he cares about.

With his mind a bit clearer, Dipper buried himself beneath the covers again and slept peacefully until about noon, where seemingly nothing eventful was going on for the day.

Grunkle Stan had taken over running the Shack for Soos so he and Melody could spend quality time together for the week. He made a big show of rolling his eyes and saying that Soos would owe him big for 'pulling him out of retirement' but Dipper knew a front when he saw one, his Grunkle was glad to be behind the mantle again, if not for anything than to just boss Wendy around.

Ford was...well, the same. Locked in the basement and doing his research, only emerging once a blue moon to eat and occasionally use the bathroom.

Dipper continued his Ghost Harassers rewatch. Mabel tried to watch an episode with him, but quickly claimed that it was 'boring, and Duck-Tective is better' then promptly left to go do something elsewhere. He didn't reply, or even glance her way. His mind wasn't even on the episode. It was glued to the countless ideas floating through his head about this mysterious new author.

Mabel vanished around the corner of the doorway then poked her head back in, frowning. "You okay, Dip?"

He mumbled an incoherent response, which didn't satisfy. Mabel came back in the room through his peripheral and rounded behind him, staying there in silence for a few moments. Then, Dipper's world went dark.

A fluffy, frizzy mess of a blanket fell over his line of sight and ticked his face, assaulting him viciously like a wild dog.

"Dipperrrrrrr!" Mabel called, rubbing her hair right in his eyes. "Snap out of it!"

"Ah! Mabel! Mabel, stop!" Finally, he had enough and just grabbed two clumps of his sister's hair and threw it off of him, vigorously wiping his face of any loose strands and blowing bursts of air against his lips to clear up any that may have stuck.

By the time he finished, Mabel was in front of him on her knees, her head tilted like a confused puppy. "Did you get possessed again or something? You're acting like a zombie! Ooh, do I need to bust out the microphones again and sing a nifty little song? I'll go get Grunkle Stan!"

Before she could bounce to her feet and dash off, Dipper grabbed her arm, "I'm not possessed!"

She dropped back down, more confused than before. "Well, what's wrong? You didn't even bat an eye when I insulted your nerd show, which was a dead giveaway. But I meant it. Booooring!"

"Mabel!" He hissed, trying to calm her down. He figured this would happen. Sooner or later, he would have to tell her about the fourth journal and the mysterious new author, especially since that person was now targeting Dipper. He knew that if he didn't come clean and Mabel found out elsewhere, she'd be heartbroken and assume he didn't trust her.

Pressing the red off button for the TV, the entire room fell silent, leaving nothing but Mabel's ears at attention. Dipper wasn't even sure where to begin or how to explain it. Did he go into detail? Did he leave stuff out? What if Mabel barely reacts to it and it's not as big a deal as it seems? Maybe he really is going crazy.

She must have noticed his grim expression, because hers darkened, beginning to match. "Dipper, you're scaring me. What's up?"

He sighed, "You know how yesterday me, Grunkle Ford and Wendy went into the woods?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, it wasn't a complete bust. It was actually pretty awesome. We found these weird looking spider-bat hybrids that trapped us in cocoons and nearly had us for lunch! But Grunkle Ford really came through. We found out the spider-bats have enhanced hearing, so we used that to our advantage."

"Okay...that sounds cool, but it's just another day, right? I mean, we've dealt with worse."

"Oh, it's not the spider-bats I'm worried about. I just wanted to talk about them. Hybrids are cool." He took in another deep breath, knowing the real meat of his troubles came next. "It's the other thing we found in the woods that's got me all...you know, zombified."

Mabel leaned forward, her eyes wide, "Was it a talking monkey?"

Dipper reared his head back, "What?! Why would I be freaked out about that?"

"I dunno, talking monkeys are always too smart for their own good. I figured it tricked you into doing something embarrassing in front of Grunkle Ford and Wendy."

"Okay, you've been watching way too many talking animal movies."

Mabel rasberried, "Now you're being silly. There's never such a thing."

"Whatever. The point is, when we were in the woods...we found this." Dipper reached behind him and pulled open the first desk drawer, retrieving the journal from it and blowing off dust on the cover.

Mabel gave it a single glance and shrugged, unimpressed. "It's one of the journals. What's weird about that?"

Dipper rolled his eyes, "Mabel, take another look. And not for half a second this time."

Mabel did, and when she noticed the clear difference, her jaw fell, voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "There's another journal?!"

"Yeah. And before you ask, I didn't write it."

"Did-"

"No, Grunkle Ford didn't either."

Mabel processed that for a few moments. Dipper saw her brain absorb the implications of another journal in real time. Even she, someone who isn't as into the paranormal as him, knew how weird that was.

"Who was it, then?"

"I don't know. And that's not all. Look." Dipper turned the journal open and flipped several pages to the last one before it became empty. The page dedicated to himself.

That seemed to freak Mabel out the most. Her skin became pale. "Dipper..."

"And you remember the silver sword? That was from them, too!" In a two-sentence summary, he quickly recanted the other morning when he chased after the figure and found the sword in their standing place, with the note attached.

"The handwriting was the same on that note as this journal! It's the same person!"

"Who else did you tell?"

"Grunkle Ford. But I might as well not have, because I don't want him doing anything."

"Why not? He's the expert, he could probably think of something."

Dipper shook his head, aware that he was probably being stupid in dismissing help, especially from Grunkle Ford, but still convinced in his heart it was the right thing to do. "I can't, Mabel. This person wants me, not him, and not you. I can't let you guys get hurt because of my problems. I can fight my own battles."

That didn't sound as convincing as he intended.

Mabel's eyes steeled. Her finger came up to poke his chest, "Listen. I'm your sister, so it's my job to look out for you. I don't care what you say, if any creep or peeping tom tries to come after you, I'll get em' with the grappling hook right to the face!"

"Uh...that would probably kill them."

"Well then I'll whop them over the head with the handle!"

"I hope it doesn't come to that. I mean, I don't even know who they are or what they really want. I just know they're there, watching. For some reason, interested in me. It's creepy."

Mabel hummed, "Hmm, and you didn't know about it...so that means they could've snatched you if they wanted, right?"

Dipper didn't like that terminology, "I don't know about snatch, but-"

"Maybe they're actually nice and their actions seem creepy," Mabel suggested. "Think about it, they gave you the sword to help with Pacifica's werewolf problem, right?"

"Well yeah, but-"

"And they dropped the journal on purpose for you to find it?"

"I think so, but that doesn't mean-"

"And what thing always helps you when you're in a bind?" She pointed to the journal, still open to his dedicated page. "Beep boop, the journals!"

"Yeah, but..." Dipper thrust his hand towards his sketched picture, "They made a whole page for me! As if I'm some weird creature that needs to be studied!"

"Maybe you are. Maybe this author is an alien!" The idea excited Mabel, "It'll be like E.T! We can adopt the alien and raise it as our own! You two can be nerd buddies!"

There was so much wrong with what she just said, Dipper didn't even entertain debunking it. He just pinched the bridge of his nose, "I seriously doubt the new author is a baby alien, Mabel. I saw them with my own eyes! They were tall and fast and all...shadowy! I'm telling you; I don't think they're up to any good."

Mabel calmed, sinking to a sitting position on her bed, looking at Dipper with concern. He could tell. Whenever Mabel exudes emotion, he can feel it from short distances, like a twin sense. "If they aren't, we'll face them together, okay? They may be shadowy, but we have twin power. Mystery twins, am I right?"

He turned to her, smiling. He was glad he confided in her. "Yeah. Mystery Twins."

"And hey, I know for a fact that they don't have a Waddles!" Mabel reached below her bed to heave up the massive pig by the belly.

Dipper laughed, "What's Waddles gonna do?"

"Like I said last night; three days, no bath." Mabel sat him back down like he would explode, gagging, "Yuck! We've gotta get you clean, porky!"

Dipper rolled his eyes, standing up and placing the journal back in the drawer, "Maybe Grunkle Stan can help you. I'm sure he'd love to spend the afternoon washing a pig."

"I'll use my charm on him if I have to. Speaking of charm and last night..." Mabel's tone shifted, "...how'd it go with Pacifica?"

There it was. Dipper almost thought he'd get away with one Pacifica-free conversation with Mabel. But that's proving to be impossible. If he's even in the same room with the girl, Mabel's going to work her magic, taking the two voodoo dolls she's made for them and forcing them to kiss.

"It went fine."

He heard her bed spring groan, indicating she'd switched positions and was now lying on her stomach, chin tucked in her hands. "That's it?! Give me details! Was it romantic? Did she let down her hair so you could climb inside?"

"She's not Rapunzel."

"I never said she was. But did she?"

"I steered clear of her parents, apologized, and agreed to stop those werewolves from attacking her house tonight. It was just that, Mabel. Nothing 'romantic' about it."

"Yeah...that smile in your sleep says otherwise!"

Dipper looked at her, slightly weirded out. "You've been watching me sleep? You're no better than the new author!"

Mabel shrugged, "Hey, not my fault I wake up before you do. I'm a proactive Oregonian! Up with the sun and pecking with the woodpecker!"

Dipper cringed, "Please don't say pecking again."

"Oh, come on! Would it be easier to kiss and tell if I were a guy? That's an easy fix!" Grabbing her bundle of hair, she squeezed and straightened it out until it became a brown spiral, draping it over the space between her upper lip and nose, then tucking the end behind her ear, making it look like she had a thick mustache. "Wassup, Dipdawg?" Mabel deepened her voice, "So what's the deal with the Northwest chick? You guys gonna make out or what?"

Dipper's entire face got red, "Mabel!"

"That's what bros are for, homie. You should totally bag that, man. She's a ten!"

"Ugh..." He relented, placing his face in his palms, peeking through his fingers, "This is worse than Wendy."

Mabel stared at him for a moment, probably not sure how to respond to that. He wasn't even sure what the undertones of that statement meant either. That Mabel's teasing had gotten worse, or if the types of feelings he was getting were. In retrospect, he could chalk all of that up to Wendy coincidentally being not only an attractive, older girl, but a really easygoing, cool, go with the flow type of person that Dipper would've gravitated towards even if she were a guy instead. It just so happened that she wasn't, and hormones were starting to kick in at that age. What results, is complete puppy love. Unfounded and hopeless.

This...he's not sure of yet. It's certainly not puppy love, or maybe even a crush. It's more of...an interest. He can't put a label on it. He knows for sure that he finds Pacifica gorgeous, and always has, even if he didn't want to admit it when he first met her. He knows that they have shared experience in the weirdness of the town, and she actually knows of its secrets, which is huge for him. The other girls back in Piedmont have no idea what's right under their noses, lurking just a few hundred miles away. They lead completely mundane lives by comparison, blind to the truth. Not that it's their fault, but they just don't know the same things. It should stay that way.

But beyond that...does he really know her? Like know know her? If they were to...well, hypothetically, start dating, would they have anything in common? She likes mini-golf, Dipper sucks at it. She likes singing, Dipper...likes listening to music, but if he even starts humming, his voice will start cracking. She likes fashion, Dipper pretty much wears the same thing every day of the year. She likes money, Dipper doesn't know whether he has five bucks or nothing in his wallet, and doesn't really care.

He'd be discouraged with that layout, if not for the counterargument that he's probably seen the real her more times than anyone else, including her parents. He saw the way she got excited when they captured the lumberjack ghost at the manor, and the way she locked in when it was time to front an attack on Bill's fortress. Deep down, she likes the adventure, just like him.

But still, that isn't enough. There's only so many weird things they can find before they have to do something else.

Dipper decides to voice this, "I mean...even if there was something there, and that's a big if, what would we even talk about? Or do? We're total opposites. And at the end of the day, I don't really know what she's into."

Mabel, the emotion guru that she is, knew it was time to get serious and put on her sage hat. She removed her makeshift mustache, "I wouldn't say that. She seems to like solving mysteries with us. She likes mini golf and trying on clothes. Uh, let's see..."

"Yeah, but that could just be stuff her parents forced on her. That's why it's so hard to gauge! I've only seen the mask slip a few times, and those were in bad situations! Not in hangout settings!"

Mabel pressed her fingertips together, nodding with her eyes closed, "Well, I think I have the solution to this dilemma, Dipper-san. Would you like to hear it?"

"San?"

"The Karate Boy? Anime? It's Japanese!"

"Yeah, sure. Tell me."

"Talk to her!"

Dipper raised an eyebrow, "Talk to her?"

"Duh! That's how you find out stuff about people! You sit down and have a conversation with them. Ask questions! Lots of them! Too many if you have to! Dig deep in that blonde soul!"

"I guess." He ducked his head, covering his face with his hat brim. If he was opening up about his doubts, he might as well go all the way. "But I don't know, what if it turns out to be a waste? Pacifica probably doesn't feel that way towards me. It'll just end up being all in my head like before."

Like before.

He had to give Mabel credit. She exaggerates about being a love expert, but there's some merit to the claims. He knows better than anyone that she has incredible emotional intelligence and intuition. Dipper could tell by the gleam in her eyes that she read between the lines of those two words and understood.

"Oh...I get it. Wendy."

"Yeah. But it's not even just her. Other girls that are actually my age think I'm a joke. I've never gotten a valentine's card, Nicki Martinez laughed at me in sixth grade when I asked her to come to our birthday party, and Jess, who's your friend by the way, turned me down when I asked her to the eight-grade prom, even though you had me convinced that she liked me!"

Mabel lowered her brows guiltily, "I thought she did. I already said sorry for that."

"It's okay. But you know what I'm saying, right? I've already been burned too many times, so why should I even bother?"

Mabel surprised him with what she said next, "I don't know. Maybe you shouldn't."

It made him tilt his head up and stare at her, trying to figure out how someone could so quickly replace his sister with a fake. "Huh?"

"Maybe you shouldn't bother. I mean, at the end of the day, it's up to you who you like and what you wanna do about it. I can give all the advice I want, but let's face it, I'm not exactly the ideal role model for romance. Mine always end up lasting as long as a goldfish."

Now he felt bad. He'd managed to bring Mabel down to his level of self-pity, which is quite the feat. Usually, she's headstrong in the face of negativity.

"I'm sorry about last summer, okay?" She said sincerely, "About Wendy and Jess. I shouldn't have pushed so hard. I just want you to be happy and find your person. But I know now that I've been going the wrong way about it. This time, I'll stay out of it and be on standby. If you need my help, I'm there for you."

Dipper smiled at her, "Come on, you know I don't really want you to stay out of it. Heck, you're the only person that can actually push me to take risks when it comes to girls."

She returned the sentiment, "We'll try to keep that to a minimum, though."

"So what should I do now?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe the best way to know for sure is to just start off as friends first?"

She said it as an unsure question, but it really resonated with Dipper. That was it. That was the solution. Instead of overthinking things and jumping into something he's not sure of or even ready for, he should just build on what started towards the end of last summer. Pacifica is his friend. He's sure of that now. And before it becomes anything more, if it becomes anything more, he should focus on that friendship.

"That's it. Mabel, you're a genius!"

"You're darn right I am! Love guru! Love guru!"

Dipper arched an eyebrow, "And here I was thinking you got all humble on me, sis."

"Hey, you have pride in your expertise, I have pride in mine."

Towards the end of the day, the sun began to set, casting a dark orange glow across the landscape and lighting the horizon with the faintest streaks of purple. Save for a few wispy marks, there were no clouds in the sky, only brightening stars and the rising full moon.

Dipper stopped the cart in front of the Northwest Cabin gate and hopped off, approaching the buzzer like he did a couple of days ago. In similar fashion, he jammed his finger to the small button and announced himself.

"Hello?"

Instantly, the same muffled voice as before replied, "Yes?"

Dipper cleared his throat, "Uh, It's Dipper. Pacifica should be expecting me."

Unlike before, the voice on the other side actually said more than just one word this time, even taking to a polite tone. "Ah, Mr. Pines, of course. Come right in."

Dipper stood there stiffly while the gate creaked open. Well, that was weird. Before, he rambled on uselessly trying to get the guy's attention and now he recognizes him, even calling him 'mister.'

Figuring Pacifica told the butler about tonight's mission, he shrugged and got back on the cart, driving slowly down the driveway and passing the peacocks, all of them looked at him with cocked heads and ruffled feathers, as if to say, "Back already?"

As he came to a stop near the steps, Dipper noticed someone sitting on the front porch in a rocking chair adjacent to the front door. For a split second, he thought it was Pacifica, and started to spout some sarcastic greeting or inside joke, referencing the ghost capture at the manor, until he saw who it actually was.

Mrs. Northwest. Pacifica's mom.

Now that he thought about it, he found it odd that when he came by the other day, she was nowhere to be found. Granted, he didn't go inside the house, but he figured she would be right beside Pacifica's dad, spouting orders at Manly Dan and the lumberjacks, or at least looking at them haughtily with her nose raised in the air.

Now, she looked like a shell of that woman. She appeared to have gotten thinner over the past several months, but not in the way her daughter had. Pacifica's figure was growing athletically, shaping and curving into that of a young woman. Her mother seemed almost withdrawn, like a frail plant on its last breath. Her skin had gained a few wrinkles, her eyes were lifeless, and she was wearing a dark red cocktail dress, drinking what seemed to be wine.

Dipper had long since turned the cart off and walked up the steps, just standing there waiting for Mrs. Northwest to acknowledge him, or at the very least, the big medieval looking sword strapped around his torso. But nothing happened. She just kept staring ahead at nothing, her eyelids shadowing the white beneath them.

Finally, he had to say something, or else he'd feel like he was breaking and entering. "Um...Mrs. Northwest?"

At that, she responded, offering a little noise of acknowledgement, but not looking at him.

"I'm here to help with your..." Saying werewolf seemed to be the wrong thing. He wasn't sure why, but it just felt odd to talk about the paranormal with someone who looked so far removed from that topic. "...problem. I'm supposed to meet Pacifica."

The index finger pressing against the wine glass lifted momentarily, pointing behind her at the house. Her voice sounded like a ghost's "She's in her room upstairs."

Dipper furrowed his eyebrows, not taking his eyes off the woman until he entered the cabin. That was a little freaky. Was she depressed or something? He knew they'd lost most of their money, but despite that, Mr. Northwest seemed to remain the same. Was it different with her?

He shook his head, not really willing to go down that road. Luckily, his mind didn't stay on the subject very long, because it jumped to the next thing. This cabin. It's massive.

Dipper's tense limbs fell to his side, his mouth dropped at the high ceiling of the building. Mabel was right. Even though this place is smaller than the manor, it dwarfs the size of even the Mystery Shack tenfold. His senses were assaulted by so many things at once. His nose by the smell of old primer and leather, his skin by the warm air radiating from the crackling fireplace, his eyes by the enormous glowing chandelier hanging above the center of the room, the old paintings, the mounted animal heads, the expensive furniture, the dark oak design adorning the walls. It looked nearly identical to the lobby of what he remembered at the manor, just shrunken.

But instead of it exuding arrogance and size just for the sake of it, this place felt...cozy. Like the kind of home you'd find at the top of a mountain isolated beneath rows of trees, mounds of snow and a running creek. Peacefully still in the vast spectrum of time, like a puzzle you want to glue and hang up on the fridge, every time you pass the picture, you just smile and think of better days.

Dipper smiled. This was an improvement. Sure, it resembled the horrible place atop the highest peak in the town, but it was different. He was glad Pacifica was staying somewhere that (hopefully) didn't remind her of bad memories. Maybe she could make better ones here.

Speaking of, what was it her mom said? Upstairs?

Dipper carefully scaled them, loosely holding on to the polished railing, eyes flickering right and left, trying to find what might be Pacifica's door in a hurry. He wished Mrs. Northwest specified. The last thing he wants is the man of the house bursting from a room behind him and starting an argument. With the new phobia of being watched all the time, jumpscares weren't exactly something he was in the mood for.

With the rows upon rows of identical looking doors on either side of the dimly lit hall, Dipper felt helpless. He might as well play eeny meeny miny moe.

But then he remembered last night and which window he threw that pebble at. It was on the left side of the house, around...the center! That's where she was!

He located what he figured to be the right door and braced himself before knocking. On the off chance that it wasn't her room, he just hoped it would be a small closet for cleaning supplies or something.

He wrapped his knuckles against the door. Nothing.

He tried again. Still nothing.

Frustrated, Dipper threw all caution to the wind and just turned the unlocked knob, pushing open the door with a little more force than intended.

He stumbled into the right room alright. On first glance, it screamed feminity. The walls were a bright hot pink, which...isn't what he would've guessed from her. That seems really loud for a Northwest, and very Mabel-like. But other than that, everything pretty much matched his imagination. The room itself was twice the size of he and Mabel's back at home combined, with every girly thing you could imagine. A big white dresser opposite the bed, on top of it, a three angled mirror, a shrine of makeup tools, and a dangling phone charger. On either side of the dresser, there were two cracked doors, probably for her closet and personal bathroom, if he had to guess. No boy band posters, though, so maybe not as Mabel-like as he thought.

Dipper figured if Pacifica found him entering her room with his shoes on, she'd kill him. Oh, who is he kidding, if she found him entering her room at all she'd kill him, but he needs to find her so they can prepare their defenses. Besides, he's faced down Bill Cipher and Gideon's giant robot. He's pretty sure he can handle an angry girl.

His nervous gulp betrays that thought.

The sneakers are off with two simple pulls. He hesitantly walks on fluffy carpet, poking his head around the corner of the doorway to find her laying on a queen sized bed with her knees bent in front of her, eyes closed and fingers wrapped around her cell phone. She's got little wired earbuds in, and she looks more peaceful than he's ever seen her, like a sleeping goddess.

For a second, Dipper just stares, nervous sweat building on his palms. He knows he's probably got a three second window to either wake her or walk out before this goes from 'accident' to 'creepy.' But it's so hard to turn away when the mask is off. When the stress of her family and her front aren't getting to her. When he can see that face for what it truly is.

Her hair is sprawled out beside her head like a golden blanket. Her chest is rising and falling in a soothing consistent pattern. She's wearing a purple t-shirt, pink no-show socks, and jean shorts that show off a good portion of her slightly tanned legs, which are practically glowing from the ceiling light.

Dipper realizes he's entered the realm of being creepy. Friends don't stare at other friends like that, man. Get it together!

He decides it would probably be better to call her name before resorting to touching her shoulder. He'd rather not get smacked across the face if he can help it. "Pacifica?"

The music must've been on low volume, because her eyes fluttered open, then expanded into saucers. The earbuds flew from her ears and she sat up at the near speed of light, backing up towards her headboard as if he were going to kidnap her.

"Dipper?!"

"Yeah, uh...hey."

"Hey?" She mocked, "You weirdo! Why didn't you call first? Or better yet, knock on the door like a normal person!"

"I did, but you didn't answer! I honestly wasn't sure you were even in here!"

She crossed her arms, "Then why'd you come inside, genius?"

He started to fire back, but no, she had him there. "Uh...curiosity?"

"Ugh, creep."

Dipper ignored that, "Gotta say, your room isn't what I expected."

"What, you've been fantasizing about being in my room?"

The comment made his heart beat a little faster, but he didn't dare show it on the outside, "It's pink. Like...Mabel pink."

He could've sworn her voice got a shade softer, "It's my favorite color."

"I thought purple was your favorite color."

The sharp tone quickly resurfaced, "Well, look at that, Journal Boy was wrong about something. It's pink. My parents hate it."

Oh...

Dipper turned to her, eyebrows knit, "Did you just call me Journal Boy?"

She raised her chin challengingly, "Sure did."

"What, you got tired of dork and nerd?"

Pacifica shrugged, smirking, "You've gotta spice things up every now and then."

"It was getting a little stale."

"Shut up."

If you'd been a fly on the wall eavesdropping on the conversation, you'd think at first listen that two enemies were going at it, that their words were full of venom and distaste. But Dipper and Pacifica both had small smiles on their faces. Par for the course, he actually liked the back and forth he had with the girl. It was challenging in a way he isn't used to, but once he gets going, he can match and up the ante if needed, raising the bar every time she matches his playful verbal strikes.

But then the awkward teenager side takes over and Dipper begins sweating again. Even Pacifica's noticed by now that their alone in her room. Sure, the door's open, but this territory is uncharted. Before now, they only saw each other in public settings, most of the time with other people around. Going from that to standing five feet from someone's bed is a bit jarring, especially after the conversation he just had with Mabel.

"So...tonight's the night, huh? Full moon and all."

"Yeah...werethings."

Dipper twiddled with the hem of his vest. Jeez, I hoped getting back on topic would break the tension, but this is brutal! C'mon Dipper! This is serious! Werewolves are a classic monster type and you have the chance to encounter them, so focus! This is a big deal in your career!

"S-So!" His voice cracked, which only worsened his nerves, "It'll be dark soon, so we should probably get started."

"With what?"

"Well, you implied that it's not just one werewolf, but a group of them, right?"

"Yeah, so what?"

He nodded towards the sword hilt peeking over his shoulder, "This might be enough to deal with just one, but a whole pack...doubt it. So I opened Journal Two earlier this evening and looked in the incantations section. It's a few pages Grunkle Ford dedicated to ancient Scandinavian spells meant for offense and defense. You see, most people theorize that a few thousand years ago, a group of druids-"

"Blah blah blah," Pacifica drawled, "Speak English, Dipper."

He knew good and well that she's smart enough to understand what he said. She just wants to mess with him, "Fine. This sword will help, but it won't cut it, so I looked in one of my journals and found an incantation that'll create a barrier around the cabin."

Her eyes brightened, "So when the werethings try to break in they'll get blocked!"

"Exactly!" Grinning like a cheshire, he whipped out Journal Two from his vest and sat down on the edge of her bed, flipping to the bookmarked incantation page. "Look here. What do you see?"

Pacifica repositioned on the bed so she was peering over his shoulder, her voice inches from his ear. "It's a square."

"Yeah. And see those symbols?"

"Looks like...an x and a...bird? What the heck are you showing me?"

"The blueprint for the barrier. If you carve or paint this exact design in the right places, utter the correct incantation, it's supposed to summon a forcefield-like, transparent structure that'll keep out physical forces for a short time. Granted, this is low-level stuff. It won't hold out long, but it should help keep the werewolves at bay for a while. I'm hoping it'll last until sunrise, but if not, we can use the sword as a last resort, and any other silver you have in the cabin."

"So you're gonna...what, dig out that shape around the cabin and cast a spell to protect it?"

"Pretty much. Cool, right?"

"Yeah. Your uncle must be like, a total mad scientist to know all this crazy stuff."

"Well he did come from another dimension through a high-tech portal when I first met him, so mad scientist is probably an understatement. The guy literally owned a Quantum Destabilizer."

"What's that?"

"A cool sci-fi gun that almost killed Bill at the start of Weirdmageddon. He missed, though."

"Wait, you're telling me that your uncle has a gun capable of killing that freaky triangle, and you didn't bring it tonight to take care of those werethings?"

"It was a one-shot sort of deal. Besides, that gun had enough power to level the entire town! You really want me to use it on a few simple werewolves?"

"Hey, you haven't seen those things! They're big and hairy and...ew! I can't even think about it! I can still feel that gross hand around my waist!"

Dipper chuckled, but something about what she said made him pause. "Did you just say one of them grabbed you?"

"Yes, and it was disgusting."

"Wait, Pacifica, this is an important detail. You're telling me that one of the werewolves physically grabbed you? When?"

"Uh...last full moon. I already told you they broke in when I asked you for help the other night."

"Yeah, but you never told me they tried to capture you! That's a pretty big thing to leave out!"

"Okay so I forgot! Sorry!"

Dipper snapped the book shut, "That changes everything. Remember how I asked you if they took anything?"

Now facing her, he watched as Pacifica pursed her lips, recalling her words. "Yeah, and I told you they hadn't."

"But you count. They weren't aiming for a piece of jewelry or an accessory, they were aiming for you. If the paranormal take something, there's always a reason behind it."

"They probably want to eat me or turn me into one of them! You're making this out to be something deeper than it is."

"I'm telling you; this just doesn't sound right. Werewolves are mindless when transformed, so for one of them to try and capture you instead of just rip you open on sight...that's odd."

Pacifica sighed, glancing out of her uncovered window, "Do we really have time to be mulling it over? It's already dark."

Dipper followed her gaze. The sun had vanished quickly, its absence filling the sky with darkness. She was right. There was no point in figuring it out now, it was too late for that. At this point, they were wasting time.

He shook his head at her, "You should've told me every detail, Pacifica."

Her eyes wouldn't meet his. She weakly threw her hand up, "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know it mattered."

"It's fine. We've still got time to put up the barrier."

"How are you gonna do that anyway? Did you bring a shovel?"

Pulling open his vest, he showed her the can of spray paint sitting in his vest pocket, "This should work. Wendy let me borrow it."

Pacifica let out a nervous laugh, looking at him like he had three heads. "You're gonna spray paint our yard? My Dad'll like, kill you."

Despite her father still having power and influence, capable of having him completely removed from the property to never return, any threat involving him seemed empty. He had no respect for the guy, therefore, no fear. "Let him. He can't be so bad that he'd just allow his daughter to get taken by monsters. Trust me, once he sees that all I'm trying to do is keep you safe, he'll ease up."

Pacifica's eyes widened a fraction, the tips of her ears turning a light pink. Dipper blinked. Did he say something weird?

Keep you safe. You. Not all of you or you guys, but you specifically.

Oh no, he totally did.

"I-I mean, all of you guys! You, your mom, and dad! Obviously! I just said you because you know...uh...you're the one their trying to capture! And I don't want that to happen, of course, so that's why I said that! I mean, not that I would leave your parents to get hurt or anything. They're bad, but like you said, they don't deserve getting turned to stone or eaten by werewolves! So just to be clear-"

"Dipper." Pacifica stopped him, his nonstop mumbling becoming too much. "You're gonna blow a nerd gasket."

He managed to catch his breath. "We should probably go outside and get started." Before this gets any more awkward, he wanted to say, but held his tongue. "You sure you're okay with the spray paint?"

"A chance to see the vein on my dad's head pop? Yeah, I'm alright with it."

"Lead the way...partner."

Pacifica scoffed, the warmth of her close proximity fading as she got up to put on a pair of white tennis shoes. "Oh no, don't call me that. Just cause' I'm tagging along tonight doesn't make me a mystery solving geek. Besides, Mabel's your partner."

"Yeah, but so are you. Did you already forget? You're the third member of the Mystery Trio!"

Maybe he imagined it, but he thought he noticed the corners of her lips twitch. The beginnings of a grin at the inclusion into the group. Quickly though, she hid it with a nonchalant hair flip, "Pfft, I guess I accept. After all, someone has to bring good looks to your little club."

Dipper nodded skeptically, "Ah, so I'm the brains, Mabel's the heart, and...you're the face."

She winked, "Now you're catching on. Follow me, brains."

Dipper hopped up, his initial excitement to begin what had been building for the past week snuffed by a looming worry. He turned to look out of Pacifica's window, seeing that the full moon had risen higher, like an anomaly North Star, pointing the way.

He hoped they were fast enough to get ahead of the weirdness curve.

-x-

The Karate Boy = The Karate Kid (Gravity Falls version) Every time they reference another show or something they change the name a little. I didn't change E.T because...I mean, come on. What do I do with that?

Also, personal headcanon of mine that Soos showed Mabel anime and she loved it. Though what her favorite would be, I can't really say. Sailor Moon, maybe?