Yep, I'm about three months late on an update. Probably thought I'd never post another chapter, huh? Well think again! In all seriousness, I wanted to take a little break to relax and ease some stress from work. So I apologize for the wait, hopefully there's still some of you awesome readers out there still interested in this story!
Chapter Nine: Full Moon
Dipper wasn't sure when the werewolves broke through the barrier, but he knew for certain that it was way too soon.
In the face of mortal danger, time tends to become irrelevant. Events that happened within days seem like mere hours. The adrenaline begins pumping, coursing, altering any sense of reality.
Through the windowpane, messy shapes and silhouettes clawed at the dome. With each scratch and swipe, blue embers leapt in the air, surrounding the beasts' heads like fireflies, showing tiny hints of their pointed ears. Behind them, nothing but pitch-black darkness. There was no telling when the sun would rise. Dipper couldn't even remember what time he'd gotten here.
Pacifica slowly backed away from the window, "Uh, Dipper, what are we gonna do?"
Dipper felt a slight sting when he swallowed. He glanced down at the sword in his hand. The one gifted by the alleged new author.
"It looks like there's an entire pack out there," He said lowly, "I can't fend them off with just this."
Heck, I probably can't fend even one of them off.
Pacifica turned to him, clearly panicking, "Well what do we do?!"
Dipper's brain went in overdrive. He strained himself, trying to quickly think of some solution. There had to be a way...
It hit him. The answer was right there in his hand!
He half-smiled at her, "Silver is one of their big weaknesses, right? But it doesn't have to be pure silver. Even this sword isn't, it's just the tip."
"Yeah, and? What are you saying?"
"Do you guys have any silver in here? Even anything laced with it?" Dipper figured he should count himself lucky. Of all the places to be surrounded by werewolves, a rich family's house was a pretty good one. He had no doubt that both of Pacifica's parents collected rare jewels and gems.
Pacifica's features eased as she caught on, "I think my mom has some jewelry that might fit."
Dipper nodded, "Good. Wherever you think that might be, go check and bring it here. Gather as much as you can."
"But it's just rings and necklaces and stuff. How's that gonna hurt a giant dog?"
"A sharp point helps, but it doesn't have to be. As long as it has some form of silver, no matter how small, it'll cause damage once it touches them."
Pacifica hesitated, "Are you sure?"
Honestly, he wasn't. He was just going off of what the journal said, and every list of rules horror movies went by. It was more of a gamble than a certainty, but he couldn't disclose that for Pacifica's sake. He had to seem sure. "Yeah, I'm sure."
She looked at him a moment longer, then ran off upstairs to complete the task. Dipper recognized what happened there. She'd read his body language and tone and decided to trust him. If anything, that only added more pressure, because if he turned out to be wrong, then he would lose that portion of trust. At a time that felt like a past life, Dipper probably wouldn't care about the status of Pacifica's trust towards him, but things were different now.
While she hunted on the second floor for more silver, Dipper held the fort in the living room, clutching the sword with both sweaty hands, nervously eyeing the window. They were still going at it and showing no signs of fatigue or discouragement. They were like mindless zombies, latching on to one goal and relentlessly pursuing it.
The looming danger seemed to push Pacifica into overdrive, because she returned shockingly fast with a near armful of silver-laced jewelry, carrying the mound of shiny metal in a small rug she must have swiped from one of the bedrooms.
She carelessly dumped them on the floor next to Dipper, glancing at him expectantly, "Alright, now what?"
"Now...heh, I guess we wait." For the first time since their assault began, the creatures actually seemed to be making progress. One of them seemed to back up a few steps and use all of its momentum in one wide strike, creating an ugly, blue gash in the barrier. It only provided enough space for a single werewolf to fit its head through, but pretty soon that would change.
Dipper's jaw fell, "And based on that, it doesn't look like we'll be waiting long."
Pacifica stepped closer to him, "I swear, if I get eaten, I'm so coming back to haunt you."
The werewolves, even through the frenzied fog of their mental state, knew best to stay back and let the leader handle the breach. The same one that created the gash delivered another momentous blow, tearing through the barrier with ease, from the point of its head to the ground.
Both Dipper and Pacifica screamed, with Pacifica darting away from him and back to her jewelry pile, clutching a ring and a necklace like they were protective shields. Dipper just stood frozen, moist hands wrapped completely around the sword hilt, never relaxing.
Once one part of the barrier fell, the entire thing crumbled with it. Dipper expected something a bit more dramatic, like a firework display of glowing colors, or a loud explosion. But the actual collapse was more akin to a bubble popping. No noise, just gone. Vanished to nothing.
Realizing they had a clear path, the werewolves bounded toward the cabin. It was hard to tell just how many there were, but even one or two would be too much to handle, and judging from the massive blob approaching, it seemed to be far more than that.
Just mere seconds after it fell, a thick, hair limb burst through the windowpane. It reached around wildly, trying to grab and claw them, while the rest snarled hungrily in the background.
"Stupid dog!" Pacifica shouted, her fear suddenly gone, "You broke my window! That's gonna cost us!" Deciding to take the first attack, she raked up a handful of rings from her silver pile and pitched them with a sharp precision. As soon as the werewolf poked its head in, the metal collided with its forehead. The snarling and growling quickly shifted to a piercing squeal of pain, proving Dipper's guess. Any silver would harm them, weapon or not.
Disoriented, the leading wolf fell on its back, allowing the others to come in without care for their pack mate. They stepped over it, completely forgetting one of their own had just been attacked. Three stepped into the cabin, each standing on their hind legs, eight feet tall, their muscular, man-like bodies covered in matted brown fur, slobber dripping from their hooking, razor-sharp teeth. One bite would be enough to tear Dipper in half.
"Keep throwing!" Dipper ordered, trying his best to sound braver than he felt, "Don't get scared!"
"I'm not scared!" Pacifica roared, "I'm mad! We just had that window fixed from the last time!" She picked up a necklace this time and immediately pelted it at the beast of the left like a snowball, "Take that!"
Her aim was, again, dead on, not only hitting the werewolf on the top of its head, but sliding towards its ear and getting caught around it. Dipper wasn't sure what it felt like for them to come in prolonged contact with their weaknesses, but judging from the sound it was making, and the way it clawed at its ear, it must have felt like fire.
In an act of revenge, the middle wolf showed its teeth at Pacifica and prepared to take a swipe faster than she could pick up another accessory. Dipper's jaw clenched. He knew he had to step in.
"Get away from her!" He yelled, dashing forward and taking a blind, uncoordinated chance of a strike on the creature. Out of sheer luck, Dipper managed to catch the werewolf's forearm with the tip of the blade. The deadliest, most potent part.
A different reaction ensued from that as opposed to the jewelry. If a ring laced with silver caused a pained bark or cry, then an attack from pure silver caused pure agony. The werewolf immediately made a horrible, blaring whining sound, nearly shaking the entire building with its volume. Fight or flight kicked in. It jumped and held the wound with its other paw, crashing into the wall on the right and falling to the floor, writing in a fetal position.
Dipper had been so distracted by the outburst, not to mention the shock that he actually managed to do something useful, that he didn't see the last standing werewolf move to grab Pacifica.
When he heard her shriek, it was already too late. He whipped around and watched in pure terror as the monster bashed its shoulder against the front door, effortlessly ripping through the side of the cabin and leaving behind a werewolf shaped hole. It had her by the torso. She was trapped and smothered underneath an iron grip, but she tried to her best to squirm and fight it.
"Dipper! Hel-" The rest didn't reach him. The werewolf took off on three limbs, a victorious, drawn-out howl trailing behind it as it quickly closed the distance for the woods.
Dipper's legs became wobbly. Pacifica...no, she couldn't actually be gone. Not like that. Not after he said he'd keep her safe, after she trusted him.
Suddenly, anger rose in his chest. No, he wasn't afraid anymore, and he hadn't failed. He could still get her back and stop this mess.
He started out the newly made hole in the wall, but something stopped him in his tracks. Something...stupid, that would no doubt waste time and prove pointless. It was a quick passing thought that he should've shoved to the side and ignored.
Pacifica's mom and dad are still in here. What if the two werewolves we hit go after them? What if her father wants to help? Shouldn't they at least know their daughter's just been captured?
He knew he was wasting time just standing here thinking about it, so his body made a quick decision for him. As fast as he could, he ran over to the trapdoor and flung it open, revealing Preston and Priscilla Northwest contained in a small room below, Priscilla on a makeshift bench, staring mindlessly at the ground, and Preston face to face with the trapdoor, likely listening to the whole thing that just occurred.
He looked at Dipper with disbelief, "What are you doing, you fool?! Don't expose us!"
Preston made a grap for the trapdoor, but Dipper stopped him, "Look, there's no time! Pacifica's been taken by one of the werewolves, and I need help getting her back!"
He balked at that, eyes blazing with fury, "Wha- How could you let that happen?! See, this is exactly what I meant! She should've never been so stupid as to bring you here! This is your fault!"
Dipper didn't fire back. In truth, he partially agreed with him, and that elicited a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"I know I messed up! But we can still get her back! Will you help me, or not?"
Preston hesitated for a moment, first thinking about the danger this would ensue, but that was quickly overpowered by protectiveness for Pacifica. Dipper would have to give him credit there. He may be a bad father, but he was at least willing to try.
Finally, he groaned and pulled himself out of the underground panic room, "What do we need to do?"
"First, get to the golf cart and avoid them!" Dipper pointed at the two werewolves they attacked earlier, now rid of the pain the silver caused and getting back on their feet. They seemed far angrier than before.
"Good lord!" Preston exclaimed, "They're hideous!"
Dipper rolled his eyes. That's the first thing he says? "Yeah, and their deadly, so we need to go!"
Preston wasted no time in running through the werewolf shaped hole in the wall, looking back and making a face, "And they've damaged my house! Ugh, this will take days to get fixed!"
Dipper ignored him, backing up slowly towards the hole Preston just went through with the sword raised in front of him. He began swinging it back and forth to ward the beasts off. "Back! Get back!"
The two werewolves flinched and kept their distance for a few seconds, which was all Dipper needed. Once he felt the distance between he and them was far enough, he spun around and sprinted toward the golf cart, throwing himself in the driver's seat and cranking the ignition.
"Get in!"
Preston forewent any proper procedure to enter a vehicle. His posture looking a lot like Dipper's, just jumping on the seat and grabbing onto a handle above him to keep stable. "Step on it, boy!"
Just as Dipper slammed the bottom of his shoe on the gas pedal, the two pursuing werewolves jumped fifteen feet from the porch to the cart, just missing it by half a foot. Luckily, their momentum caused them to lose balance and tumble, buying he and Preston a few seconds, which they would desperately need in a vehicle like this.
Dipper had to hand it to the golf cart though. It was faster than it looked. After all, he and Mabel were able to run from the giant gnome configuration at the beginning of last summer.
It was easy to follow the tracks of the werewolf that took Pacifica through the open field. The grass was a bit higher than normal, so any spot where it had been flattened was an obvious footstep trace.
Dipper's heart was pounding. He never let up on the gas pedal for a second. He could only worry about Pacifica, and hope to everything that the fact it didn't kill her on the spot meant it wanted her alive. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if she got hurt, especially because he wasn't paying attention when he should've.
"I think the tracks lead to the middle of the forest!" Dipper announced, raising his voice so it could be heard over the rushing wind, "Mabel, Pacifica and I came out here a few days ago and found what we think to be the werewolves' hideout!" He wasn't sure why he even said anything. It would've been better to just ride in silence. Perhaps he was reassuring himself more so than Pacifica's dad.
"Dragging my daughter into your nonsense..." Preston nearly growled, his voice just barely audible, "I don't know what you think will happen after today, but mark my words, if you ever come in contact with her again, I will-"
Dipper put up a silencing hand, "Wait a sec, do you hear that?"
Preston went quiet. Both of them not only heard, but felt the same thing. The ground was shaking beneath them and throwing the cart off balance. Through the night wind, two distinct howls broke through and reached their ears.
Dipper and Preston locked fearful eyes. They were gaining, and fast.
Knowing there was no chance of outrunning them in the golf cart, Dipper thrust out the sword to Preston, "Here! You'll have to keep them away!"
The patriarch looked at him like he had three heads, laughing incredulously at the suggestion, "Me? Are you insane?! I will drive and you do the fighting! Low-class rebels should be good at that!"
Dipper rounded on him, keeping one hand on the wheel, "If we switch now, it'll just slow us down! This is for Pacifica, man! Your daughter! Fight for her! Take the sword!"
It was his best shot at getting some cooperation here. He knew that in Preston's head, he was probably too good to even look in the direction of a hideous monster, let alone engage in combat with one. But if Dipper reminded him of the stakes here...then it might knock some sense into him.
Reluctantly, Preston snatched the weapon from his hand, pulling himself to a standing position just as the werewolves caught up, their bounding figures appearing on either side of Dipper's peripheral.
When he smelled the rancid breath and saw the sheer size of their teeth up close, he began to regret his decision of giving Preston the sword. He must've been insane to think that this guy would be any use here. He locked himself in a panic room and left two thirteen-year-olds to fend for themselves for crying out loud.
But something snapped within Preston. His free hand nearly crushed the overhead handle with his grip, the once heavy sword turned into a paperweight as it flashed before Dipper, back and forth several times poking the werewolf in the face like a rapid stapler. Just as quickly, the one from behind sunk its claws in the roof, using its incredible strength to slow their speed to a crawl.
Preston shifted his stance, then struck, slicing the werewolf from its waist to its shoulder. As quick as the cart slowed, it sped up again. The werewolf couldn't even cry out in pain. The silver cut acted as a blast of force, knocking it back as if a semi-truck swiped it.
Dipper stared at him. For half a second, Preston Northwest stood there staring out in the darkness, sword outstretched in position like an ancient warrior. He actually looked...kind of cool.
"Uh...how the heck did you just do that?"
He ducked below the roof and sat back down, speaking with an obvious pride, "Fenced for ten years. Oregon state champion at one point."
And you didn't think to use that skill to help us out back at the cabin? Dipper thought, but kept his mouth shut. He would probably never figure him out, even if he tried.
They broke through the tree line and entered the deep forest, with only the cart's yellow, rather ancient lights leading the way. Just ahead, they scanned a rustling of tree tops and falling limbs, the sounds of leaves crunching were actually branches being crushed under the weight of the culprit werewolf. The one that grabbed Pacifica.
Preston's upper body jerked forward in surprise at the sight, "Pacifica! Pacifica, can you hear me?! I'm coming, dear! And I'm armed!"
Suddenly, Dipper felt like he was sitting next to a different person. What happened to the guy hiding in a panic bunker?
It took all of his focus to not wrap the cart around a tree. He felt like he should've been holding a controller, driving through a narrow, bumpy path at high speed. But it was all real, and if he had to guess, it wouldn't be much further until they reached the den. If Pacifica made any noise so far, he never heard it.
A few more seconds elapsed before the werewolf skidded to a halt. Dipper reacted immediately, stomping on the brakes and nearly throwing both he and Preston overboard.
The werewolf spun around mid-run, stopping in front of the large hole Dipper fell down just a couple of days prior. They'd made it to the hideout. Good. But now they had to deal with the werewolf and his backup currently emerging from the darkness, standing side by side in a formulated line. Not good.
Preston jumped off the cart in a fencing pose, "Unhand her, filthy dogs!"
Dipper didn't even react. He kept his hands glued to the steering wheel, staring ahead like a doe, somehow under the impression that if he didn't move, everything might disappear and he'd wake up in his bed.
Pacifica's eyebrows knit at the sight of her father in the forest, prepared to duel with a pack of monsters, "Dad? What the heck are you doing out here?"
Preston scoffed, "What does it look like? Saving you, of course! This amateur couldn't handle it, so I had to step in!"
At that, Dipper rapidly shook his head, breaking the delusional trance. Slowly, he tore himself away from the 'safety' of the golf cart. "Pacifica, I'm so sorry. We're gonna get you out of here, okay?"
She peeped an incoherent response, nodding silently. For several moments, nothing happened. Both parties remained in a standoff, Preston completely frozen in his stance and the werewolves growling dangerously.
He tried to take advantage of the pause and think of a plan, but nothing came to mind. At least, nothing plausible. He'd have to rely on Pacifica's dad to do all the work in every scenario, and while his actions just a minute prior were impressive, he'd have to be superhuman to take on four of these things at once.
And even if he managed to turn into an invincible action star, what then? The middle werewolf wouldn't just let Pacifica go willingly. Even if Dipper used the cart as a weapon and drove into its arm, would it be enough to knock her free without hurting her?
The growling stopped, switched with a sound that made Dipper scrunch his nose. It sounded worried...afraid, even.
The werewolves hunched their shoulders, cowering from something approaching Dipper's right. He turned his head, silently hoping it wasn't another, bigger monster deciding to jump in on the party.
Then again, that could actually work in his favor. While everyone was distracted dealing with the new threat, the werewolf's grip would loosen on Pacifica, and he could get her to safety! But then there's Preston to think about, and they can't just leave a group of monsters fighting in the woods so close to the Northwest cabin...
Ah, he's overthinking again. It's much better than another monster, or ten armed men for backup. Through the spaces between the leaves, hints of sunlight penetrated through in little rays. Each one acted like an anti-transformation bullet. As soon as they hit the black, leathery skin, the werewolves began shrinking in size, their whimpers of protest getting higher and higher in pitch. Dipper figured within a few seconds the situation would be under control. They'd turn back into humans and the middle one wouldn't be able to hold Pacifica's weight with one hand. He'd drop her, she'd get away from him, and they would high tail it out of there. Rescue misson complete.
Only...none of that happened. Well, it did, as far as Pacifica being freed, but everything else went an entirely different direction, taking Dipper's psyche for a ride like a thrilling novel.
They shrunk past the point of human size, and the fur never disappeared. It only shrunk along with the skin and slightly changed color from jet black to acorn brown. Smaller and smaller they became, going below Dipper's height and even his waist. Pacifica didn't care all that much about getting to safety anymore, sheer curiosity had overpowered her survival instinct. She was just as confused as he was as to what was happening.
Finally, the de-transformation was complete. Not werewolves to humans, not werewolves to regular wolves, but werewolves to tiny, bushy tailed, twitchy nosed squirrels.
Squirrels. That's what they've been afraid of this entire time. Things that, if Mabel were here, she'd want to keep as pets.
If that wasn't already surprising, the middle one began talking, "Ah man! Not again! This always happens!"
The one to his left clenched his tiny fists, "Calm down, Casper! We can still take them!"
The werewol- squirrels that Preston knocked off the cart earlier had caught up with them, one with a paw placed over his chest and the other covering his face with both.
"I don't know, boys, we may be outmatched here."
"Yeah, they've got silver! How'd you two-legged devils know our weakness, huh?! Have you been spying on us?!"
Dipper couldn't speak. He was overcome with shock. It wasn't the first time he'd been thrown for a loop, but he really didn't expect a twist like this. Were-Squirrels? Nobody could've guessed.
"Answer me!" The squirrel screeched.
"Uh...I mean, we thought you were werewolves."
The middle one, Casper, raised his voice, clearly offended, "Yep, and there it is! The constant comparison of us to those doofuses! Just because we derived our powers from them doesn't mean we're related! At least we have a society! Those losers wander the woods alone every full moon!"
Dipper scoffed, "Wha- can you blame me? You look the exact same! Size, claws, fangs, even your noses look the same!"
"And you freaks have been breaking into our house every month!" Pacifica shouted.
"Freaks?! You wanna repeat that, little Miss Perfect?!"
Pacifica stood straight, picking up a rock and glowering threateningly at the group of rodents, "You heard me. And now that you're back to normal size, I think it's time I do a little damage of my own!"
Before she could play whack-a-squirrel, a gruff, but still high-pitched voice entered the fray, "I believe I can clear up all the confusion."
Each squirrels' body reacted to the sound, jumping away to form an entrance for the new voice, bowing to their little knees. From the darkness of the den hole, a taller, much older looking squirrel with gray fur and a tiny stick for a cane emerged, looking between Dipper, Pacifica, and Preston calmly.
"So these are the humans we're in conflict with. Greetings. I am the elder of the pack. I am called Jonnes, and you two are the Northwests, correct?"
Finally, Preston broke his statue like stance and reacted to the situation, dropping the sword to the ground and taking a seat on the passenger side of the cart. He began laughing louder and louder until it became maniacal. "I always knew this freakshow of a town was odd, but this? Man-eating squirrels?! I must be in a ridiculous dream!"
The elder squirrel ignored him, instead focusing on Dipper. "And you are the Pines boy. You've been coming around this forest a lot lately, haven't you?"
Dipper had no clue what he was talking about. The one time he came with Mabel and Pacifica, maybe? "Um...no, not really-look, what's going on here? Why have you been attacking their home? Why did you try to take Pacifica?"
Pacifica raised the rock higher, emphasizing her threat, "You'd better start talking!"
Jonnes sighed, "Everything that we have done, has only been out of survival. We are trying to stop the destruction of our land." His beady eyes found Preston, "The destruction that you have caused, sir."
Preston looked up, confused, "What?"
Dipper's eyes widened with realization, remembering that first day he came to the cabin. Manly Dan and his sons were cutting down trees. "The lumber. Pacifica, you said your dad's cutting down trees and selling the lumber, right?"
She lowered the rock, "Yeah...why?"
"That's it! Why didn't I think of it before? This is their home! Your dad's been cutting down parts of their environment, so they want revenge!" He shouldn't be smiling. It just came naturally when he figured something out. "And that's why you always tried to capture Pacifica, because her dad took something from you, so you wanted to take something from him!"
Jonnes nodded, holding a faraway stare beyond them, "That's right. Generations ago, since that fateful night, when our ancestors were bit by a passing, hungry werewolf, our society has lived in this forest. There's never been an issue until now, when you, the Northwest family, moved in and began tearing said forest down."
"But...we didn't know you lived here!" Pacifica protested, "Besides, it's not like I chopped down all your trees, so why kidnap me?"
"We figured if we took something precious from your father, he would cease his operation."
At that, Preston became interested, rushing over with his index finger in a spinning motion, "Hold on a moment, what was that? Cease my lumber operation? Are you insane?"
"Are you?" Dipper asked bluntly, "If you stop cutting down the trees, they won't attack your house anymore, or try to take Pacifica. It'll solve everything."
"B-But selling the lumber is the key to begin regaining our status! Without it, we'll be stuck as nothing!"
"Typical," Pacifica snorted, putting a hand on her hip, "You'd choose 'status' over your own daughter. Why should I expect anything different?"
The comment slammed into him like a ton of bricks. Preston's hard, unwavering look flickered toward the dirt, a fraction of shame visible, but he did well to hide it.
"How am I supposed to trust you?" He asked, rather validly. If it didn't come from his mouth, it would've came from Dipper's. "You're a bunch of savages! What's to say you'll break a hypothetical deal?"
"You'll just have to trust us," Jonnes said, "I would think that with your only offspring in jeopardy, you would be quick to make the wise decision."
But Preston still hesitated, weighing the options. Dipper believed, or at least, wanted to believe that it wasn't really about choosing between Pacifica's life and money, but him trying to figure out if there's a possibility of having both. Which is...still horrible. He had no idea why he'd try to mentally justify the man.
After what felt like an eternity of contemplation, Dipper groaned, "Just make the deal, man! It's your daughter!"
"Alright, alright!" He caved, "I will cease my operations. But you must vow to never show your brutish faces near my property again!"
One of the squirrels stepped forward angrily, "Hey! It was our property long before you got here, buddy!"
Jonnes silenced him, "Enough. Yes, we promise to stay away, as long as you hold up your end."
Preston nodded reluctantly, "Very well."
Taking that as the signal that everything was settled, Dipper beckoned Pacifica over, and she followed, but not before shooting several glares at the squirrels.
"I should've whacked them anyway," She muttered, dusting herself off, "Jerks ruined my clothes."
Dipper quickly snatched the sword from the ground and addressed the squirrels, who hadn't moved an inch, despite a truce being made. "So, uh...we're gonna go now. Hope there's uh, you know, no hard feelings."
The other, more impulsive squirrels looked like they wanted to vent a little more about some of silver induced wounds they received, but they kept quiet. Jonnes hummed amicably, "Yes, no hard feelings. Perhaps we'll see you around here again sometime."
Dipper began cranking the golf cart as soon as Jonnes started talking, but paused at the last part. Again? Why would he say that? Dipper wouldn't be coming out here again. At least...he didn't think. It was hard to tell with Gravity Falls, so maybe it's possible.
He decided to just let it go. Passing comment from a senile old squirrel. It meant nothing.
Dipper reversed the cart and turned around, Pacifica squeezed between him and her father, safe and sound. While he was glad to have another mystery under his belt, that fact right there meant much more.
The ride back to Northwest Cabin could be described as...a very quiet, tense five minutes.
Or ten, or twenty. It felt much longer to Dipper. The negative electricity could be felt between all three parties. Preston's dislike towards Dipper was evident, Pacifica's dislike towards her father even more so, and Dipper's anxiousness was stronger than both. He had no idea what Pacifica was thinking in regard to him right now. Was she mad that he let her get captured? Did she never want to see him again now that everything had been solved?
He brought the cart to a slow, safe stop, parking it ten feet from the front porch steps. Preston stepped off, straightened his suit, and stormed away, never speaking until he put his hand on the doorknob.
"Pacifica, let's go."
"I'm coming. Just give me a second."
"Now, Pacifica."
She didn't budge. Like in Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons, her character had built up an incredible resistance to persuasion. Her charisma far outweighed the evil Patriarch, despite his 'stern tone' spell. What she said next was up to chance. She'd have to roll at least a thirty-one to win this verbal battle.
Wait, where the heck did that come from? He seriously needed to play a game with Grunkle Ford to get the D,D & D itch scratched.
"You said after this I can't see him anymore, right? I figured I should at least say thank you, since you won't."
Yep, that was definitely a thirty-one.
From the way the knob shook at his death grip, Preston wanted to argue until noon. Dipper wasn't sure he wanted to be around when the screaming started, but with Pacifica still sitting shoulder to shoulder, he couldn't just drive off. If that happened, Preston might chase him all the way back to the Mystery Shack on foot. Which...would actually be pretty funny.
Luckily, that didn't happen. Preston calmly opened the door and slipped inside without another word. Now, everything turned silent. No morning birds, no crickets, just Dipper and Pacifica's breathing.
He hadn't realized he'd been holding in the words until her dad went inside. Now, they were spilling out. "Okay, I'm really sorry about that. I-I just wasn't paying attention and then the werewol- I mean, were-squirrel grabbed you! It all happened so fast! If you hate me now, I totally-"
Dipper was cut off by something colliding with his chest, then two more things tightly encircling his shoulders and squeezing.
A jolt of electricity crackled through his insides, making him very aware of the heat building on his skin. Pacifica was hugging him. Pacifica was hugging him.
He didn't even have time to return the embrace. Faster than it began, it ended, with her yanking away and sitting awkwardly at the other end of the seat. But for a full second, he felt it, and now he'd remember every detail. Probably the scent the most. A sweet, enchanting mix of lavender, lilac flowers, and champagne that made his mind go fuzzy.
Dipper stayed quiet far too long. Realizing this, he began nervously tugging on his shirt collar, "You uh, want to pay me so we can pretend that never happened?"
"I can let that one slide," She muttered, then in a louder voice, "And I'm not mad at you, dork. You helped get rid of the werethings, just like I asked. Why would I be mad?"
"I wasn't paying attention. If I was, you wouldn't have been taken."
"Look, as disgusting and terrifying as it was, if that didn't happen, my dad wouldn't have been able to make the deal with the old rat. It all worked out."
Dipper didn't think of it that way. She was right, if even one event was erased or switched, the same conclusion wouldn't be reached, and that deal probably would've never been made.
"Yeah...you're right. It's like the butterfly effect. If one small event is changed, it creates a different outcome."
"What do butterflies have to do with it?"
Dipper chuckled, "They don't. Forget I said anything." Figuring trying to go in for another hug would earn bad results, and not knowing what else to do, he stuck a clumsy hand toward her, "So...I guess this is it. Would it be weird to say I kinda had fun?"
She eyed the handshake attempt, unimpressed. "Ugh, you really don't have a clue, do you? Give me a pen."
He retracted the hand to fish one out of his inner pocket, "Alright...here."
"Now put your hand back out."
Dipper obeyed.
Pacifica, like the night she wrote her address on his arm, grabbed his wrist and used his skin as a canvass for some neat scribble. What though, Dipper couldn't tell yet.
When she finished, she promptly placed the pen back in his palm and exited the cart, walking swiftly to the cabin. Dipper held the back of his hand to his face, reading a series of numbers. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to identify a phone number. Her phone number.
"Wow..." A girl's phone number. Oh, he was so rubbing this in Mabel's face. She said he'd never be able to get one! "But hey, I thought your dad told you not to see me and Mabel again."
"He did, but he never said anything about texting!"
"Oh...alright. Wait a second, I don't have a cell phone!"
Pacifica stopped at the door and smirked over her shoulder, "Well you'd better get one before the ink wears off."
-x-
And that's chapter nine! If my wording or structure felt off, it's probably because I haven't written in a while. The next update will be out much sooner, trust me. Fanfic author's promise!