Return to Gravity Falls

      The first thing Bill saw when he opened his eyes was the dirty pile of a yellow carpet that smelled like ethyl mercaptan. Bill winced and rolled over onto his side. Now he was looking at three pairs of legs hanging from the sofa, beneath which, besides the dust, lived a life form unknown even to a demon. Or maybe it was just a rat. A pair of legs with colorful stickers and mismatched socks (one blue with white stripes, the other gray with red hearts), fluttered enthusiastically from side to side.       “Oh, he’s awake!” said a girlish, clear voice. The phrase came out too loudly, and a dull pain began to throb in the back of Bill’s head.       “Of course I’m awake, Shooting Star. How could I miss the show that’s about to begin?” the demon muttered sarcastically, propping himself up on his elbows.       The filthy humans, which were sitting on the sofa, looked down at the demon and it was unusual and wrong. They were the ones who should be lying on the dirty, disgusting carpet, gazing in horror at the all-powerful clot of pure energy, capable of commanding another’s will and breaking consciousness, but not the other way. Bill grinned wryly, watching Shooting Star, Question Mark, and the pathetic parody of the gifted twin-brother try to feign calm. Behind the sofa, in his ever-present cloak, stood old Fordsy. A disgruntled expression plastered on his wrinkled old face, he scribbled incessantly across the pages of his notebook. Hiding from the world and Bill behind his notes, the old man tried to pretend nothing was bothering him. But the nervous tension was shown by the twitching eyebrow and the bulging veins on the neck. Yeah-yeah, Bill is also very happy to see this crazy guy who thinks he’s a genius… It’s strange, but Pine Tree isn’t with him. Where is he? He wanted to take the demon to Fordsy so much, but now’s disappeared. Shouldn’t this kid be right next to Sixer, absorbing the scientist’s every movement or word like a puppy?       The silence in the room was broken again by Shooting Star’s voice:       “Would anyone like some Mabel juice?”       “Not now, pumpkin,” Stanley muttered. He held a Pitt Cola can in his hand and watched the demon’s every move. His gaze betrayed anger, but Bill knew the relief behind it was hidden. Relief that the lack of sleep and minor memory lapses that had begun two years ago weren’t caused by insanity or some illness that comes with old age, but simply by the demon. Despite the situation, Stan was glad he was actually healthy and sane (as sane as a man obsessed with money and married to antiques could be) and Bill was dying to ruin that joy. He really wanted to scream in this clown’s face that he was rejoicing in vain, that the only thing he could be proud of in his life — his heroic self-sacrifice for the sake of defeating the demon — turned out to be a lie.       “We need to decide what to do with… this,” Pine’s voice came from the right. Bill turned his head and finally saw him. The boy was leaning sideways against the archway, wrapping his arm in bandages. Pine tree looked at the demon with undisguised distaste, wincing as he tightened the bandage too tightly.       “With 'this'?” Bill asked. “This one, for you to know, has a name and unlimited power, which your puny mind will never be able to comprehend!”       “C’mon, man… I deceived the US government, jumped off a cliff and got to the giant robot’s head, defeated a horde of zombies, outsmarted Sherlock Holmes, survived puberty, and passed my exams. And I beat you twice, Cipher. Do you think you scare me?       “You didn’t make such pompous speeches in the forest,” Bill chuckled. “And now, with an audience, you’ve gotten bolder and are trying to look better than you actually are, eh?”       “Oka-a-a-a-ay,” Shooting Star said, turning to her relatives. “I wonder if I’m the only one who’s bothered by the fact that the evil yellow triangle we erased from Gruncle’s mind now looks like an ordinary teenager?”       The girl folded her fingers into a triangle and pressed them to her left eye.       “Why aren’t you triangle?” she asked.       Soos pulled a crumpled candy from under the sofa cushion, popped it into his mouth, and muttered inaudibly:       “Maybe this is all some devious plan of some supreme, omnipotent being who wants Bill to reform and become a better person through immense moral suffering?”       Silence fell over the room. Dipper and Ford exchanged thoughtful glances. Stan grunted softly and took a sip of his soda. Mabel picked at the sticker on her knee, looking at Cipher, and Soos continued chewing the candy. Bill, having digested the nonsense uttered by this fat semblance of a human, burst into laughter.       “Better?” he repeated. “No being in the infinite dimensions can make me better!”       “We’re not surprised,” Sixer muttered. “But no matter what he looks like, he’s still dangerous. So, Dipper, could you…”       “Keep an eye on him?” the boy sighed and Ford nodded and Bill grinned on that. Since Pine Tree will be watching him everywhere, Cypher will make boy’s life much mor funny.       Stan yawned and crumpled an empty soda can.       “So, you two sort this out, and I’m finally going to have well sleep,” he said and disappeared into the hallway. Ford, who had been watching his brother as he left, sighed.       “Then we’ll put Bill in the attic with Dipper,” Soos decided. “Although there aren’t any more beds, just a mattress.”       “That’s more than enough for him,” Dipper replied. He didn’t relish the prospect of sharing a room with a demon, but he understood that someone who could wreak havoc with a snap of his fingers needed someone to keep an eye on him. Pines decided to consider this his academic exercise: keep an eye on the demon and prevent it from taking over the world, and you’ll get an A.       Soos went off to look for the aforementioned mattress, Mabel tagged along. The girl didn’t seem particularly bothered by what had happened, but as she left, she cast a worried glance at her brother. Dipper smiled, encouraging his twin. When only Ford, Dipper, and Bill remained in the room, the former, sitting on a dinosaur skull, said:       “From Dipper’s story, we already know that you appeared in Stanley’s head two years ago. Where were you before that?”       Bill, lounging lazily on the carpet, stretched his human hands toward the ceiling. He twitched first one finger, then the other. He bent them one by one, clenching them into fists. Then, thinking his hands looked better than Pinetree’s, he folded them across his chest.       “Do I have to answer?” he asked sarcastically when he caught the scientist’s irritated sigh. Sixer hand twitched toward his cloak, likely to reach for a hidden weapon.       “Of course,” he hissed.       “Hm,” the demon rolled onto his side and, propping his head on his hand, stared at the old man. “I don’t know.”       “But you must have popped into Grunkle Stan’s head from somewhere, right?” Pine Tree said, sitting down on the step.       “Well, yeah, from somewhere,” Bill agreed.       Silence reigned. Sixer, who had been studying the demon for a few seconds, began writing something in his book again, while Pine Tree, stared silently at Cipher with his lips pressed into a thin line. Feeling the tension in the room with every inch of his skin, Bill laughed.       “Come on, you’re glad I’m back! It would have been too boring without me.”       The skin puppets became silent. Bill wondered, why they thought he would tell them something. He’d already done them a great honor by having a heart-to-heart with the boy in the forest. Pine Tree should be jumping for joy at being the first to hear his story! But no, that leather sack merely pouted and examined the demon, studying the new body. Well, Bill understood the interest in its appearance. The body, judging by what he’d seen and felt, turned out to be quite nice. It’s easy to control, you can do whatever you want, and you don’t have to endure a torn-out soul next to you, who would accompany your every action with a condemning sigh or a hysterical demand to stop.       Finally, Pine Tree couldn’t resist yawning. Sixer, noticing this, put his book away and approached his grandson. They whispered briefly — so briefly that Bill didn’t even have time to complain — and then the scientist disappeared around the corner. The boy rose to his feet.       “Get up,” said he to the demon.       “And if I don’t?”       “I’ll drag you by the leg, and you’ll bang your head on every step.”       “Sounds fun!” Bill laughed. “But you won’t do that. You’re too gentle, and…”       To his surprise, Pine, without changing expression, grabbed Cipher by the ankle with his good hand and dragged him toward the stairs.       Sliding on the wooden floor wasn’t fun.       The demon felt hundreds of splinters and thousands of chip crumbs piercing his flesh through his exposed skin.       “Let me go!” Cipher yelled. “Or I’ll turn your eyes into ostrich eggs!”       “Mhm, try to.”       Bill tried. He wished that at that very moment the eyeballs of the insolent human offspring would turn into dark green, almost black eggs that emus lay. But nothing happened. Pine Tree didn’t scream in horror, clutching his face, and didn’t start begging to return everything to the way it was. Instead, he continued dragging Bill up the stairs. Each step ripped the skin from his vertebrae, and it felt like a hole punch was being driven into his neck. Bill screamed and began kicking the boy with his free leg. Pine Tree, cursing, released the demon.       “Don’t yell! That’s it, I let go, just shut up!”       It’s very naive to think that a demon, like an obedient dog, will comply with a human’s demands and shut up. Completely ignoring Pine Tree’s words, the demon screamed and cursed, looking into those perfectly ordinary brown eyes. Why hadn’t they turned into eggs?! Everything in this world should be under the control of the demon who had been lurking in the corners of someone’s mind for two years, plotting a grand return! Yes, instead of a perfect equilateral triangle, he now looked like a member of the hominid family, a suborder of primates in the class of mammals, but his powers should be there! Bill mentally commanded Pine’s hair to turn into rattlesnakes and his ears to become drums. But again, nothing happened. Growling in despair, the demon grabbed the boy by the shoulders and shook him.       “WHY IS NOTHING HAPPENING?!”       Pines was stunned. A swearing voice came from Stan’s room. Coming to his senses, the young man grabbed the enraged Cipher under the arms and ran to the attic. Pushing the demon into the room, Dipper closed the door, cutting off the rest of the house from the frantic teenager’s screams.       Bill continued screaming. He ran to the table where the books were scattered and froze. After an exhausting night and incessant shouts, Dipper’s head started to ache. Bill, breathing heavily, stared at the books. Then, with a growl, he threw everything on the floor.       “Hey!” Dipper exclaimed indignantly.       Ignoring the boy, the demon began to break a nearby chair. He broke off one leg and threw it out the window, which was fortunately open. Then he tore off the seat, another leg, and the back. Holding what had been a chair by its two remaining legs, he began to pound them on the floor.       Leaning against the door, Pines watched and made no attempt to calm down furious Bill, even when the latter, throwing aside the broken chair, began kicking and tearing boy’s books. Dipper noticed that before grabbing each book, Cipher paused for a second, as if waiting for something to happen. When nothing happened, he began smashing everything with renewed vigor. Finally, when Dipper’s books and notebooks were reduced to tiny scraps of paper, Bill calmed down and fell onto the mattress Soos had brought, knocking out a cloud of dust. Sighing, Dipper stared silently at the clock, which read four thirty in the morning. Chances are, no one was sleeping right now, not even Abuelita. It was very difficult to sleep when someone was screaming so furiously and slamming a chair on the floor.       Dipper walked over to his bed, brushed off the paper debris, and climbed onto it. Facing the demon, he opened his journal and stared at the blank page. Pain and Bill’s words, “Why isn’t anything happening?!” rang in his head like alarm bells. Was the demon really so upset because he couldn’t carry out his threat? Taking a pencil from under his pillow, Dipper wrote:       “Even though the demon appears to have lost his powers, the magical barrier still reacted on him. Does that mean he still has some abilities?”       The young man looked up at Bill, who was sitting across from him. What demonic powers could he possibly still have? Levitation? Unlikely; he would have shown them right away. Mind reading, perhaps?       Dipper, carefully watching Cipher’s expression, began to mentally curse the demon. But Bill didn’t react. He continued to stare at Dipper, or rather, through him, with expressionless eyes. Just in case, the boy insulted Bill a little more, to check if he was faking it. Once the test of mind-reading ability was over, Pines simply stared at Cipher.       If he hadn’t known who sat before him, he would never have recognized the demon. Even in the forest, it had taken him a while to accept that this was Bill Cipher, the mind demon who had infiltrated people’s dreams and once caused Weirdmageddon. There were no demonic features in Bill’s appearance. No sharp claws, no elongated ears, or slit pupils. Everything was like a normal person: light skin, reddened in places after Dipper dragged the guy along the floor, and tousled blond hair, from which a branch was sticking out. It had probably gotten caught Bill’s hair after Pines knocked him out. The only things Dipper could detect as reminders of his former demonic form were his overly sharp cheekbones and amber, almost golden eyes. And even then, such features were not uncommon in humans. After thinking for a bit, the young man decided that Bill was even handsome, but only because he had a very symmetrical face.       As Dipper studied Cipher’s clothes — a plain white T-shirt and matching knee-length shorts — a question arose: why exactly had this particular outfit materialized on the demon? His fingers tightened around the pencil:       “Find out why he’s wearing white.”       Glancing at the writing, he frowned, then quickly crossed out the sentence. No way. He won’t figure out such nonsense. At least he was wearing something. Dipper wasn’t prepared to see the naked demon.       Around six-thirty, the attic door opened slightly, and Mabel’s curious nose peeked through the resulting crack. A most intriguing sight greeted her: her brother, clutching his journal so tightly he’d crumpled several pages, was silently staring at Bill, who, in turn, was looking at Dipper, but, unlike Pines, wasn’t blinking at all. Mabel glanced at the trash scattered around the room and quietly cleared her throat, trying to attract anyone’s attention. Dipper, transfixed, turned to his sister. She smiled.       “Shall we go downstairs?” the twin asked in a whisper. He shook his head. Of course, she remembered that he had to keep an eye on the former triangle, whose gaze was burning a hole through her beloved brother, but that didn’t mean Dipper couldn’t even go down to the kitchen now. Bill probably wouldn’t do anything if left alone for an hour. But Dipper wasn’t taking any chances. So Mabel decided to cheat a little.       “Hey, Bill!” she called.       Cipher blinked and jerked his head. Then, his lips stretched into an unnaturally wide smile, his eyes seemingly bulging, he turned to the girl.       “Shooting Star, good morning!” he drawled. “Need something?”       His grimace, despite his polite tone, was quite creepy, causing Dipper to silently scowl and finally slam the journal shut. Mabel, however, smiled.       “I wanted to invite you into the kitchen for a snack. I’ll make some delicious waffles with syrup! Dip-dop and I need to get our energy up before our day at the Mystery Shack, and you can join us and try some waffles. I also made Mabel juice; it’ll perk you up!”       “Demons don’t need food,” Bill said, still smiling frighteningly widely. “But you’re inviting me with such enthusiasm that I can’t ignore the invitation.”       Bill stood up and walked over to the girl.       “Only after you,” he announced, opening the door wide. Mabel, dropping a playful curtsy, skipped down the stairs, hoping very much that Bill wouldn’t push her down.       Dipper had no choice but to follow. The young man, whose adrenaline had finally let go, actually really didn’t want to move: the hand cut by Cypher hurt, and his skull felt like someone had decided to use it as a drum kit. His legs were barely functioning after a sleepless night — his second, it seemed — and Dipper considered himself lucky that he hadn’t tumbled down the stairs head over heels.When Dipper and Bill sat down at the table, a delighted Mabel placed glasses of what she called juice in front of them. It looked like regular coffee without milk, a fact hinted at by the dirty coffee pot lying in the sink. In any case, the drink was created by Mabel Pines, which means that this coffee can contain paper confetti floating in it — for a positive mood — or, for example, toy googly eyes — for sharp eyesight.       While Dipper eyed the contents of his mug skeptically, Bill, without thinking, raised the glass to his eyes. Dipper frowned:“I hope he’s not going to…”, but didn’t have time to finish his thought. The demon, not doubting his actions in the slightest, had already tipped the mug, preparing to pour hot water over his eyes. The guy, tightly pressing his lips together, was already preparing to listen to the cries of pain, but Mabel stopped Bill.       “Stop! People drink with their mouths!” she shouted, pulling the hot drink away from the teenager’s face.       “Oh, right,” he said, catching himself. “Right, I have a human form now.”       Cipher raised the mug to his lips. Mabel, turning away from the demon, winked at her brother. Dipper frowned, and Bill downed the coffee in one gulp. Then, coughing, he dropped the mug and clutched his throat. “Probably burned himself,” Pines thought without a shred of sympathy, looking at the boy’s teary eyes. Mabel feigned horror.       “Gosh, Bill, is everything okay?” she asked.       “What was that?!” Cipher croaked. Mabel, hiding a smile, picked up the mug from the floor.       “Just hot, strong coffee! With red pepper, garlic, and salt… And there was some kind of viscous liquid in the saucepan, I added that too.”       Dipper stared at his mug in horror.       “I’m not drinking that!” Mabel snorted in displeasure, took the coffee from her brother, and poured it down the sink.       “Oh, very well,” she said, pretending to be offended. “Strong coffee combined with pepper actually gives you a boost.”       “Did you add garlic for a boost, too?”       “Of course! And Uncle Ford said it was delicious!”       Bill cleared his throat. He felt as if the cryptids inside his throat were throwing a party with sulfuric acid and fire extinguisher foam. It was a shame Pine hadn’t tried his sister’s creations; watching him suffer would have been amusing. Leaning back in his chair and trying to ignore the sharp pain in his throat, Cipher watched the twins from under his brows.       Pine Tree, his blank gaze sweeping the room, looked like a typical Mirrorworld inhabitant: pale, with drooping eyelids and ink stains under his eyes; his clothes were smeared with dirt and blood. He could easily stand the boy behind a mirror frame and scare curious children. Bill barely suppressed a satisfied smile: the sight of a tired and dirty boy pleased the demonic eye. Or rather, eyes. Now Bill had two eyes. Two completely normal human eyes. Disgusting. Human eyeballs can’t even project three-dimensional images using light beams! And drinking with them is impossible. Surely these pathetic humans, currently arguing over the taste of the brew prepared by Shooting Star, would secretly gloat if the demon had actually poured the drink over his own eyes. Bill wondered if he would have lost his sight or simply suffered excruciating agony?       The kitchen smelled of the torment of wheat, previously ground to dust, and sucrose. Shooting Star, kneading a pale yellow substance in a huge bowl, contentedly inhaled the aroma of her mash. It was surprising that people found pleasant the smell of milk taken from cows, with which they were supposed to feed their calf, and the syrupy substance produced by bees from the nectar of honey plants. Bill had liked the smell at first, too, but then he felt a tightening in the place where a person’s stomach is located. In addition to the bitter-sour taste lingering from the so-called coffee, saliva appeared in his mouth. Bill frowned in displeasure.       What was this?       He knew, of course, that people needed food and felt stomach pains if that need wasn’t satisfied — and, ironically, could also die of starvation — but he was a demon. He didn’t need food to sustain life. Cypher swallowed his pent-up saliva and immediately felt a fresh attack of pain in his throat. With every passing second, being in this stupid kitchen and in this idiotic form was becoming more and more unbearable. Not only did he no longer have demonic powers, and couldn’t, for laughs, make Star’s skirt turn into freshly flayed human skin… But now he had to eat human food to keep his new body from shutting down from lack of energy? Yeah, right, the hell he would!       Dipper, having stopped arguing with Mabel about the strangeness of her drinks, which he still couldn’t get used to, leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He really wanted to sleep. But, unfortunately, proper rest was now only a dream. And all because of the demon that fell on his head, sleeping in the same room with whom, to put it mildly, was a stupid decision. What if Cipher decided to strangle Dipper in his sleep? Or, worse, escape and cause another Weirdmageddon. Sighing heavily, Dipper rubbed his eyes with his palms, trying to erase the fatigue. He’d have to remember exam times and stock up on coffee and energy drinks.       “I’ll have to ask Mabel to go to the store for them,” he decided, watching his sister and Waddles twirling at her feet.       Mabel looked calm, even humming, but she kept turning around, glancing at her brother and then at the demon, who was now irritably hypnotizing a plate of cooked waffles.       “I wonder what it is about ordinary waffles that angers him? The fact that they don’t scream in pain when they’re fried?” Pines thought.       “Dipper!” yelled Mabel, and the boy startled in surprise.       “What?” he asked.       “I am calling for you for the third time,” the girl poured, “What would you like on your waffles, I asked. We have syrup and whipped cream.”       Dipper blinked. At the other end of the table, Cipher stopped staring at the waffles and chuckled into his fist.       “What, Pine Tree, too difficult question?”       “Oh, shut up! With whipped cream.”       “Oh, how can you talk to your sister in such a rude manner! Aren’t you two close?” smirked Bill and began to rock in his chair. Dipper rolled his eyes: “hope you fall down”.       Mabel placed waffles and coffee in front of the brother.       “Here, bro-bro,” smiled she, sitting next to Dipper, “and coffee is normal, so stop looking at it like it’s going to sing for you or something.”       The boy nodded, thanking his sister, and pretended he didn’t notice that she tore a piece of his waffle. With his nose in his mug, he watched the demon rocking like a pendulum. And then the sound of alarm clock rang from the upstairs. Mabel heard the annoying tune and clapped her hands.       “Oh, it’s almost time for work!” the girl perked up, jumping up from her seat.       “I hope you won’t run off with the girls today?” Dipper frowned. Mabel laughed and clapped her disgruntled brother on the shoulder.       “Don’t worry, I’m with you today!” She tousled the boy’s chestnut hair, shaking out small blades of grass. “But you really should tidy yourself up first, otherwise you’ll scare away the customers. Oh, by the way, you should change your clothes too, Bill! You’re both so dirty.”       The boys simultaneously looked down at their clothes, which made Mabel smile. Bill pulled down the bottom of his T-shirt and stared at the white fabric covered in green stains.       “Ugh,” he frowned.       “And you have twigs in your hair!” Mabel sneered.       “That’s disgusting,” Cipher said, standing up. “And that needs to be fixed immediately! Do you think there’s anything worthwhile in your brother’s junk, Star?”       “Oh, I’ll help you pick out an outfit!” the girl exclaimed excitedly, grabbing the demon’s hand.       “Hey!” Dipper protested, watching the twin lead Bill away. “Don’t touch my things!”       “Don’t be greedy, Pine Tree!” the demon’s voice rang out from the living room.       Dipper facepalmed. “I hate him.”       Shoving a waffle into his mouth, he threw the plate in the sink and stormed out of the kitchen. He didn’t want to leave his sister alone with Cipher. Of course, Mabel could easily defend herself if necessary: ​​she had a grappling hook and a powerful right hook in her arsenal, but keeping an eye on the demon was Dipper’s job, and he had no intention of leaving it to anyone else. After all, he really didn’t want to disappoint Ford.       Mabel had already managed to rummage through the closet, dumping half of it on the bed. Bill, plopping down on Dipper’s bed, snatched up every item that fell nearby.       “What a tacky pair,” he said, snagging his worn gym shorts with two fingers. Iron-on stickers of UFO and alien faces were sewn onto the black fabric here and there, and the laces looked like they’d been chewed on every day instead of breakfast. “Your brother really wears these?”       “You haven’t seen his favorite pajamas yet,” Mabel smirked.       “It’s none of his damn business what my pajamas are!” Dipper burst into the room. He rushed up to the demon and snatched the shorts from his hands.       “Come on, Dipper, It’s just clothes!” Mabel smiled.       “My clothes!”       “I hope you have something… decent in your wardrobe,” Bill drawled. He lay down on his side, propping his legs up on Pines' pillow, and smiled at the seething boy. Dipper abruptly kicked demon’s legs off the pillow.       “I didn’t know the all-powerful demon needed my clothes so much,” he chuckled sarcastically. “Can’t you just create an outfit for yourself with a snap of your fingers?”       The boy noted, not without pleasure, how Bill’s eyes darkened. But instead of exploding with anger, the demon laughed.       “Why bother if everything I need is handed to me on a silver platter?”       “Oh, come on,” Mabel said. She tossed some clothes at the boys and nodded toward the bathroom. “Better get yourselves cleaned up.”       Dipper, pulling off his T-shirt, sighed resignedly and trudged off to wash up. Bill stared at the red-and-black checkered flannel lying on his lap.       “What’s this?”       “A shirt,” Shooting Star chuckled. “And here are jeans.”       A pair of faded blue jeans fell next to the demon.       “But I think they’ll be a bit short for you,” Star mused. “You’re taller than Dip.”       “At least they don’t have those stupid green faces on them,” Bill said, getting out of bed.        As Cipher entered the bathroom, Mabel let out a sigh and nervously ran a hand through her hair. It felt so strange to be going through this routine with the demon who had tried to kill the twins years ago lurking nearby. She glanced around at the disarray in the room. Mabel’s bedroom was directly below the attic, so she could clearly hear Bill throwing a tantrum. She didn’t know what had angered him, but she was afraid that next time Cipher would decide to hurt Dipper, not just rip up his books.       A scolding voice came from the bathroom: her brother was demanding that Bill stop splashing water all over the room and finally get dressed. The situation, had it been anyone else instead of the triangle, would have made Mabel laugh, but now she was angry. Angry at the demon who had brazenly barged into her and Dipper’s lives, and at Uncle Ford, who had placed such a burden on her twin’s shoulders. Why did he only assign Dipper to watch Bill? Why didn’t he ask Mabel to do the same? Sure, Dipper was far more responsible than she was, but Mabel Pines didn’t consider her brother’s sense of responsibility a positive quality. Because, in his desire to do everything perfectly, he forgot about himself and ruined his health. Mabel was sure her brother wouldn’t sleep for the next few days, if not a week. Firstly, because sleeping next to a demon was pure madness, and she knew it herself: who knows what this supernatural teenager might come up with. Secondly, he probably thought that he would disappoint Ford if he decided to sleep and asked someone else to look after Bill during this time.       Mabel crouched down and took the sock from Waddles. “I need to clean up while those two are freaking out in the bathroom,” she decided. She began putting the scattered clothes in the closet, humming softly to distract herself from her oppressive thoughts, when the attic door opened.       “Grunkle Stan!” Mabel smiled, turning to the man who entered.       He didn’t look so great after his short sleep, but it was clear that even those few hours had done him some good.       “Where’s that blond guy?”       “He and Dip are in the bathroom.”       Stan shuffled toward the bathroom and opened the door. Now, instead of muffled swearing, Mabel could clearly hear her brother cursing the laughing demon.       “How long are you going to wash your asses here?!” the uncle shouted discontentedly, looking at the boys who were almost fighting. “The workday starts in fifteen minutes, and you, demonic brat, will be toiling away for my financial well-being.”       Now it was Dipper’s turn to laugh at Bill.       “What?” Cipher asked, surprised. “I’m an all-powerful demon, do you really think I’m going to work for you, old man?”       “You’ve been stuck in my head for two years and you owe me rent. Either you work, or I’ll sell you up for organs.”       Dipper genuinely enjoyed the way Bill’s ears turned red with indignation. The demon looked ready to pounce on Stan.       “Get over it, you supernatural scarecrow,” Stanley chuckled, flicking Bill on the nose. “If you live in this house, you work in my shop. That’s the law.”       Cipher, pushing aside age-spotted hand, jumped out of the bathroom and raced downstairs. Dipper was about to follow, but his uncle held him by the shoulder.       “You look bad, kid, maybe you should rest?” Grunkle Stan frowned. “And don’t worry about the blond one, he’ll be under my watch, so he won’t go anywhere.”       “Thanks,” Dipper smiled, “but I’m not tired, and unkle Ford asked me to keep an eye on him, so I’ll go too.”       Mabel, standing behind Uncle Stan, snorted in displeasure.       “If you fall, I won’t catch you,” she muttered, folding her arms.       “It’s all fine, really!”       “Well, whatever you want, kid,” Stan let go of his grandson and, waving to the twins, went downstairs. “Then I’ll expect you in ten minutes! Hey, you blond brat, where are you going?! Don’t even think about it, you’re not shirking your work!”       “It’s funny what Stan calls him,” Dipper smiled. “A supernatural scarecrow… I’ll have to remember that!”       Mabel didn’t share her brother’s enthusiasm. While the boys were arguing in the bathroom, she’d managed to clean out the closet and gather the scattered wood chips and scraps of books into one pile. Now, sitting on the clean floor, she glared at the young man with a disapproving gaze.       “What?” Dipper rubbed his neck, feeling uneasy.       “I hope you’re not planning on getting yourself into the same state you did on exam days?”       “Mabel…”       “I’m worried, Deep!” the girl waved her hands and slapped her knees. “Uncle Ford put this crazy guy on you, and I know you don’t want to disappoint him, but take care of yourself a little, at least get some sleep now!”       Dipper sighed, looking into the worried brown eyes.       “Better not mention energy drinks,” he thought. “Or else he’ll tie me to the bed.” Out loud, he said:       “Okay, May, I promise I’ll take care of myself.” The boy sat down and put his arm around his sister’s shoulders, smiling reassuringly. “But right now, I really don’t want to sleep, and I’m ready to work. I really want to watch Grunkle Stan torment Cipher!”       Mabel, giving in, nodded and even managed a smile:       “Yes, this should be fun!”       Stanley clearly decided to take revenge on Bill for all the sleepless nights during which that guy exploited his body. After placing Dipper and Mabel behind the register, Uncle Stan sent Soos out to give tours — even though Stan may no longer be Mr. Mystery, he still enjoys bossing around the store — and began training the demon. First, Stan explained that from now on, Cipher’s main job was to sell tourists expensive goods, and since Bill, in Uncle Stan’s opinion, was clearly a pathological liar, he shouldn’t have any problems. Then he added to the demon’s duties the need to sweep the floor of the store and drag boxes of souvenirs from corner to corner. When Bill asked, “Why the hell should I do all this?” Stan replied simply: he turned him around, kicked him in the ass, and sent him off to sweep the floors, threatening to tape his mouth shut if he tried to interfere.       Dipper and Mabel exchanged contented glances as Bill, cursing, tried to dodge yet another kick from their uncle. At first, the twins worried that customers might have questions, but they apparently decided there was nothing strange about this attitude toward the young employees and laughed calmly at Bill’s attempts to move the barrel of keychains. These attempts were accompanied by seemingly encouraging words from Grunkle Stan, who followed Cipher everywhere like a shadow.       Closer to lunch, the customers with their wallets significantly lighter, left the Shack. Bill, cursing anyone who dared to laugh at his suffering, rubbed his buttock, which was sore from the constant kicks.       “Do people always have body parts hurting for so long?” he grumbled discontentedly, leaning against the counter.       Dipper, ignoring Cipher’s presence, buried his head in his phone and typed a message to Wendy:

“Hey, can you buy me some energy drinks and bring them without Mabel seeing?”

The reply came immediately: “No problem, man! Why don’t you go yourself?”

“Long story.”

      “Are there always so many customers in your shabby little shop?” Bill continued to ramble. For some reason, he preferred to pepper Dipper with questions. “Hey, Pine Tre-e-e-e!”       “Can you just shut up for a second?” the boy growled, not looking up from the screen. A new message from Wendy was flashing on it:

“Then you owe me a detailed story!”

      “Why are you so angry, kid?” Cipher lay down on the counter, propping his head up with his palms. “What’s wrong with me wanting to know more about the specifics of your short, worthless human life?”       Stan took the magazine from Mabel, rolled it up, and slammed the demon’s head.       “Get off the counter, you monster!” her uncle shouted. Bill, ignoring the remark, reached for Dipper’s phone.       “Hey!” Pines protested, jumping up and pocketing It.       “What, are you hiding secrets th…” Bill didn’t have time to finish. Stan, infuriated by the ignoring, grabbed the guy by the leg and pulled him off the counter. Cipher crashed to the floor with such force that he knocked over a snow globe sitting on the edge of the shelf. Mabel, catching the souvenir just before it hit the floor, cried out contentedly:       “Ta-da!”       “Nice!” Soos praised.       “I’ll destroy you all!” Bill angrily rose.       “Try to,” Dipper replied.       “You know, it’s hard to take threats seriously from a kid in short pants,” Stanley snorted. “So go sweep the floors again instead of gossiping!”       Bill folded his arms and rolled his eyes, but went to get the broom. Let these mortals enjoy their supposed control over the demon and the situation; Cypher decided it was nothing to play along. He could play the obedient man for a long time. And when they relaxed and began to trust him, Bill would take matters into his own hands and take his revenge. First, he’ll strangle the boy, damn him, in his sleep, and then he’ll take on the rest. Never mind that he no longer had his powers; Bill would find a way to get them back. He’d managed to acquire a new body, which meant he could do this, too. But for now, he needed to be patient.       “And don’t forget to bring that box over here!” Stan shouted. “I don’t like the way it’s positioned.”       “I probably won’t kill you, old man,” thought Bill, looking at the broom. “I’ll chain you up and make you run around picking up your family’s guts after I disembowel them.”       Soos, who had been munching on a candy bar, leaned toward the Pines and whispered:       “Maybe you shouldn’t be treating him like this? Why don’t you be nicer to him? Maybe then he’ll…”       “What, become nicer?” Dipper whispered, raising an eyebrow skeptically.       Soos nodded.       “I’m not going to run around giving him lessons in morals and ethics after he almost killed Mabel and me.”       “But I agree with Soos,” the girl whispered. “I’m not saying we should trust him or stop watching him, but maybe we should slam his head against magical barriers or the floor less often?”       Stan, remembering how he and Dipper had tried to drag the demon through the barrier, burst out laughing.       “I don’t know, pumpkin, I’d give him a few more slams, that was so hilarious!”       Dipper, looking into his sister’s pleading eyes, sighed.       “Okay, May.”       Mabel smiled widely and hugged her brother tightly. Hugging her back, Dipper glanced at Bill, who was hypnotizing the broom, and remembered how Ford had tried to finish off the unconscious Cipher with that very broom.       When he and Stan had just dragged the demon to the Mystery Shack and were about to bring him inside, they encountered a magical barrier. The magical wall blocked Bill’s entry, causing him to slam face-first into the barrier and slide off Stanley’s shoulders to the ground.       “What the hell is this?” uncle frowned. Grabbing the demon by the scruff of the neck, he tried to drag Cipher to the threshold, but only nearly broke guy’s nose. Cursing, Stan left Bill lying on the ground and went for his brother. Dipper sat down on the porch steps. Soon, worried and angry voices came from the house. Ford burst out, holding a broom. He threw his cloak over his cartoon cat pajamas, a gift from Mabel.       “Where…?” Uncle Ford began, but then, seeing Bill, he fell silent and strode resolutely toward the demon. From the way Stanford held the broom, it was clear he planned to use it like a stake.       “No!” Mabel rushed out of the house. “Grandpa Ford, what are you doing? You can’t do this!”       “Let him just finish off this thing,” Dipper thought absently, clutching his bleeding forearm. “There’ll be fewer problems in the future…”       Ford, judging by his screams, thought the same. The boy had never seen his uncle so frightened and angry at the same time. Trying to prove his point to Mabel, Ford, waving his arms, described to the girl all the misfortunes a living demon would bring them, reminding her of Weirdmageddon and how Cipher nearly killed her and Dipper.       “I still don’t think it’s worth killing him!” Mabel declared, clinging to her uncle’s arm, preventing him from stabbing the demon with the broom handle.       “Come on, sweetheart, who needs him?” Stan waved his hand, sitting down next to Dipper.       “No one,” Mabel agreed. “But I won’t let my family become murderers!”       Dipper smiled faintly, and Ford, covering his face with his hand, froze.       “Okey. I…I think we can leave him in the shack until we figure out how to banish him to some other dimension.”       “That’s reasonable,” Stan shrugged.       “But he doesn’t deserve such kindness!” Ford snapped. “Why, after everything he did to m…”       “Uncle!”       Stanford fell silent. Mabel turned Ford to face her.       “Uncle, I know you’re worried, but believe me, if you kill him, you’ll regret it later.”       “And why?” Ford frowned.       “First, because…” the girl paused. She bit her lip, lost in thought, and then continued ingratiatingly. “Because then you won’t know why the triangle demon took human form.”       The scientist fell silent again. Sighing, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand and nodded.       “Okay, maybe you’re right.” Mabel stopped clinging to the uncle’s arm, and he dropped the broom to the ground. As Ford left to remove the magical barrier, the girl approached her brother.       “Oh, my God, Dipper, what happened to your arm?”       Pines nodded toward Bill. Pressing the wound to his shirt, he asked, “Why didn’t you let uncle kill Cipher? It certainly wasn’t because you cared about Ford’s scientific interests.”       “I told you: he’s not worth becoming murderers for.” Then Mabel smiled slyly and winked at her brother. “And while the demon lives with us, we can take it out on him for all the trouble he’s caused us.”       “Everything is clear with you.” Dipper chuckled softly.       “I’m serious, Dip, just imagine how much fun it will be to prank him!”       “Of course, May, I’m glad that from now on I won’t be the only object of your pranks.”       His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Dipper, releasing his sister from his embrace, opened a text from Wendy: “I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”       “Oh-oh, who’s there? “Mabel smiled, peering over her shoulder.       “Wendy just said she’d be here soon,” Pines shrugged and put the phone away. “And what?”       The girl narrowed her eyes and smiled.       “Oh, nothing,” she drawled mockingly. Dipper rolled his eyes.       “Stop it,” he muttered.       “Stop what?”       “Using that tone.”       “What tone am I using?” Mabel feigned surprise. “My tone is normal!”       “Oh, I know!” Soos smiled. “You always drawl your vowels like that when you hint to Dipper about his former crush on Wendy.”       “Pfft, that’s not true!” Mabel laughed.       A clanging sound was heard. The kids stopped laughing and turned to see Bill hit a glass display case with the broom handle and knock it to the floor. The exhibit behind the display case — a strange snail with bat wings and huge human eyes on its antennae — was now lying on the floor, missing one eye. Grunkle Stan looked up from counting the money and grumbled discontentedly, “You’re nothing but a loss, you clumsy idiot.”       “Need help clearing the glass?” Soos asked.       Bill, ignoring the guy, pointed his finger in Stan’s direction.       “That’s it! Call me that again, you nature’s mistake, and I’ll shove this broom in your…”       “Yeah, yeah,” Stanley waved him off. “Just don’t hurt yourself when you clean up the glass.”       “What makes you think I was going to clean it up?” Cipher tossed the broom aside and kicked the already damaged exhibit. “I’m not your servant! It might have been amusing at first, watching you revel in your meager power over me, but now it’s starting to get a little irritating.”       “Okay,” Soos interjected, picking up the broom. “I’ll clean up. Mr. Pines, sit down.”       Grunkle Stan, who had stood up to slap the demon, sat back down with a loud sigh and began counting the money again. Dipper caught Mabel’s gaze.       “What?” he whispered, suspicious. Instead of answering, the twin pointed at Bill and Dipper, then mimed walking with her fingers and nodded toward the porch.       “Oh, come on…” Pines rolled his eyes, but still stood up from the register. Mabel smiled and handed him two cans of soda she’d pulled out of the counter drawer.       “I’m turning into a damn demon’s babysitter,” Dipper thought gloomily. He walked up to Bill and handed him one can.       “Come on, let’s get some fresh air,” Dipper sighed. Bill laughed, but took the drink.       “What, are you afraid I’m not getting enough air here?”       Dipper frowned and, grabbing the demon by the collar of his shirt, dragged him along.       “Stop showing off,” the boy grumbled tiredly, ignoring Cipher’s angry cries and attempts to break free. Once outside, he released the nervous teenager and, opening a can of soda, sat down on the steps. Bill, to the boy’s great surprise, did the same.       “What are you thinking about, Pine Tree?” the demon chuckled, nudging the boy’s knee with his own. Dipper sighed loudly.       “About how you’ve already gotten on my nerves,” Pines admitted. Bill laughed.       “Oh, I tried so hard!”       Dipper mumbled something incoherent and squeezed the soda can.       “I could leave now,” Cypher confided, leaning toward the young man. “Do you think you, in such a disgusting state, could stop me?”       Pines stared at the demon, who had stuck his finger inside the can instead of drinking, playing with it and shaking it, spilling the contents. The sharp edges of the aluminum hole cut into the pale skin, causing small beads of blood to appear on it. Dipper was surprised to discover that the demon’s blood looked just like human blood.       “I might not be able to stop you, but Mabel has a grappling hook and she’s good at aiming for heads.”       “True, most often in mine,” the guy finished mentally, taking a sip. Bill chuckled softly.       “And why did your sister want to bring me out here?” he asked.       “Probably so you wouldn’t talk back to Grunkle Stan and get hit with more,” Dipper shrugged.       “So, what, she wanted me to silently follow Stanly’s every command?” Or maybe she thinks I’m going to let this senile, kleptomaniac push me around? His attempts at self-assertion were only funny for the first five minutes.”       Dipper rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. In the distance, the lumberjack’s daughter’s bright red hair flashed through the trees. Dipper barely held back a sigh of relief, and Bill, who had finally decided to take a sip instead of spilling his soda, suddenly choked.       “Oh, Pine, look, it’s your sweetheart!” he exclaimed joyfully and jumped to his feet. “Is that who you’ve been talking to all day through that glowing rectangle?”       “Through the phone,” Pines muttered. “And she’s not my sweetheart.”       “Oh, come on,” the demon drawled sarcastically and tapped his fingers on the peak of the boy’s cap. “You were head over heels in love with that redheaded Ice Girl, and what dreams…”       “Okay, that’s it!” Dipper abruptly rose to his feet and practically walked right up to Bill. “Shut up and don’t even think about mentioning my feelings for her, okay? It’s all in the past! And please act like a normal person!”       Cipher laughed venomously.       “How formidable.”       “I’m serious, Cipher. No one outside the Mystery Shack knows you’re the triangle-shaped, crazy demon who once took over the town. And if you don’t want any of the townspeople to find out and seek revenge, I advise you to act…” Dipper sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “At least a little less crazy, and especially not tell anyone who you really are.”       Demon nodded, chewing his lips. Of course, he had no intention of listening to Pine’s advice, but he loved making false promises. And what could the little people of this pathetic town do to him? Sue him? That would be hilarious. Pine Tree, relaxing, turned to Red as she rode up and waved. Bill grinned broadly. Let the show begin.       “Hey, Wendy!” Pine rejoiced, bounding up to the girl as she dismounted her bike. Bill rolled his eyes: the joy with which the two embraced settled bitterly on his tongue, irritating his throat.       “Hey, Dip,” Red waved her hand toward the trunk, where a dozen black soda cans rested. “Just like you asked. But why do you need so many?”       Pine Tree cast a suspicious glance at the demon, and Bill, his smile widening, feigned innocence.       “It doesn’t really matter,” he muttered.       Red, following the boy’s gaze, snorted in surprise.       “Who’s this?” she asked, pointing at Bill.       Pine Tree, rolling his eyes, said reluctantly, “Oh, just an acquaintance…”       “A long-time acquaintance!” Cipher, spreading his arms wide, put an arm around the boy’s shoulders and winked at the confused Red. “We met when Pi… I mean, Dipper, first came to Gravity Falls!”       “I haven’t seen you around here before,” the girl shrugged. “And what’s your name?”       Pine Tree stared at Bill, his funny little human eyes narrowing suspiciously. Cipher, suppressing a satisfied smile, said slowly, “Actually, you’ve met me before.”       “Really?”       There was a clap — Pine Tree slapped his forehead with his palm.       “Yes! I’m Bill Cipher, nice to meet you again, Ice Bag.”       The demon extended his hand for a handshake. Red, frowning, stared at the demon as if he were the eighth wonder of the world.       “Wait,” she turned her surprised gaze to Pine Tree, who buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Is this the one?”       “Of course I’m the one!” Bill cried. “Remember how I turned your entire family into stone statues?” That was sooo much fun!       Red’s face suddenly took on a completely strange hue: it became the same color as her hair.       “Wendy,” Pine’s quiet voice was heard. “Don’t listen to him.”       “And I think I turned you into…”       Bill was cut off by a fist slamming into his face. A sharp pain flared in his nose, spreading through his entire skull and even his throat. Unable to keep his balance, the demon staggered and landed on his butt. A hot trickle of blood flowed from his nose.       “Oh, you…” the enraged Red grabbed Bill by the collar and pulled his hand back for a second punch. Cipher, his nose burning and his buttocks aching from the unexpected landing, growled softly, “Not again…”       “Wendy, wait,” Pine tree placed his hand on the girl’s shoulder, trying to stop her. “Mabel asked not to hit him too much.”       Ice Bag forced an ironic smile.       “Oh, really?” she grumbled, clutching the fabric of the Bill’s shirt even tighter. “Why shouldn’t I hit him? He deserved it!”       “He did.”       Bill laughed silently and wiped the blood running down his lips.       “What are you laughing at?” Red snapped angrily. “After everything you’ve done, every citizen of Gravity Falls would kick your ass and then bury you alive!”       “What fun,” the demon thought. “But I think burying me alive would damage this body’s vital functions…”       “You’re right,” Bill said suddenly, raising his hands as if in surrender. “I did commit terrible things, and now I understand the torment I’ve caused you all. I’m so sorry.”       Both Pine and Red stared at Cipher, who was trying to feign sincere remorse, with utter surprise. The girl was so confused that she even stopped clutching his shirt and took a step back.       “You’re lying,” she grumbled, but the former anger was no longer in her voice. “You don’t regret anything.”       Pine shook his head silently.       “Well, actually, I’m not lying, I really am sorry,” Bill sighed, but didn’t say anything out loud. “Sorry that I didn’t killed you all then…”       “Okay,” Dipper, feeling awkward for some reason, rolled back and forth on his heels. “Wendy, I’ll go take energy drinks inside…”       The girl nodded and entered the Shack. Mabel’s cheerful voice came from the store. Pines took a case of drinks from the trunk and nodded toward the back door.       “Let’s go, we’ll enter there.”       “Why should I come with you?” Bill chuckled. “I’m sure you can handle this without me.”       Dipper barely restrained himself from kicking the demon in the insolent face.       “You need to be in my line of sight,” the boy said. “So I can stop you if you start causing chaos.”       “Oh, come on,” Cipher drawled, but he stood up anyway. “You could have just said you enjoyed my company!”       “I don’t enjoy your company. I only tolerate you around because I have to keep an eye on you.”       “Yes, yes, how could I forget that you are a faithful and obedient dog, who carries out every command from Sixer.”       “Fuck you!” Dipper, enraged, forgot he was always supposed to keep Bill in sight, overtook him, and disappeared into the house, slamming the door. Once inside, the boy, looking at the old wooden staircase, realized he’d acted like an idiot, leaving the demon alone. “What if Cipher’s already escaped?” he panicked and opened the door. He immediately ran into a smiling Bill.       “Hey, Pine Tree, why’d you run away?” he laughed. “Does it really make you angry that much?”       “I should have hit him in the face with the door,” Dipper thought and rolled his eyes.       “Get to the attic already,” he grumbled, ushering the demon inside.       Five minutes later, both boys were already downstairs. Stan, upon seeing Bill, rubbed his hands in anticipation.       “Hey, bug-eyed demon, come help me!” Stanley shouted, grabbing Bill by the shoulder. “You’ll be putting those exhibits on the top shelves! I hope your skinny little arms are up to this simple task?”       Bill squinted and looked appraisingly at the exhibits the old man was pointing to. Enormous jars, glistening in the sun, held pickled fake reptile limbs and human brains. Without waiting for an answer, Grunkle Stan led the demon deeper into the store. Dipper approached the cash register, where Mabel and Wendy were chatting.       “Where’s Soos?” he asked.       “He’s gone to give a tour,” Mabel replied. — And I just told Wendy about your night adventures!       “Great,” Dipper breathed, relieved that he wouldn’t have to reminisce about the previous night. Wendy frowned, looking at her friend.       “Tell me, Dipper, don’t you find Stanford’s decision a little… odd?” she asked.       “What are you talking about?”       The girls exchanged glances.       “We’re talking about him asking only you to keep an eye on Bill,” Mabel said.       Dipper rolled his eyes.       “Listen…”       “No, you listen,” Corduroy interrupted him. “I think you need to talk to Mr. Pines about not tracking the demon alone. Not only because you’ll get tired, but also because I think he just dumped Bill on you and then shut himself off.”       “What?” Dipper was surprised. “Ford never dumped anything on me!”       “Bro, think about it,” Mabel took her brother’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “Grunkle Ford has a long, long story with Bill. You remember how he reacted this morning, right? I’m sure it’s because Bill really, really pissed uncle off, and now he’s emotional about the triangle’s return.”       “When he asked you to watch the demon, he was motivated solely by his hatred for him,” Wendy continued. “And I doubt he was thinking about any of you at that moment. And especially about your condition. That’s why you should think of it.”       The girls seemed to have opened Dipper’s skull with their gaze and filtered his brain. Of course, in the back of his mind, Pines understood that his uncle was worried about Bill’s return more than anyone else, but he didn’t imagine that because of this Ford could stop thinking clearly and, even more so, forget about his family. A fragment of his uncle’s phrase floated into his mind: “…After everything he did to m…” He probably meant “to me,” not “to us.”       “Perhaps you’re right,” the young man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll talk to him, but later. We need to let him cool off a bit first.”       It was not possible to talk to Stanford either in the evening, when he suddenly showed up at the store at the end of the working day and took Cypher away without saying a word, or later. Three days of living with the demon merged into one continuous skein of events: a sleepless night hugging energy drinks mixed with coffee, then breakfast, during which the demon glared at the food, work in the shop, Grunkle Stan’s screams and Bill’s surprising obedience, and then Grunkle Ford’s silent appearance.       “Why do you think Uncle is taking Bill away?” Dipper said thoughtfully, running his finger over the three-dimensional letters on the book cover.       The twins were sitting in the attic, unpacking the books Mabel had bought that afternoon to replace the torn ones.       “I don’t know,” the girl sighed, removing the transparent film from a collection of Lovecraft’s works. “But I don’t like it.”       “He’s probably trying to figure out what Cipher’s capable of in his human form,” Dipper drawled, ignoring his sister. “I’ll have to ask him what he learned.”       “Dip!” Mabel lightly kicked her brother in the leg. “You’re thinking about the wrong thing!”       “What?” the boy asked, surprised. “Why?”       “Because! Have you noticed how pale Bill’s been for the last two days? What if uncle’s been experimenting on him?”       “Well, how else would he know about Cipher’s abilities?” Dipper shrugged.       “I don’t care how pale he is, I look like a ghost myself, almost transparent,” Pines thought, staring blankly at the book. Mabel sighed.       “I know it’s strange to feel sorry for someone who tormented our entire family, but I still feel sorry for Bill. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t drink, he works the equivalent of three people, and now they’re experimenting on him!”       “He said it himself, he doesn’t need food.”       “What if he just thinks that?” The twin nervously twirled a strand of brown hair around her finger. “His hands were shaking so much today. Bill’s clearly weak! And have you seen the bruises on his wrists?”       “Or maybe he’s just pretending to garner pity,” Dipper frowned, throwing the book on the table. “He’s doing a great job, you’ve already bought it.”       The girl pouted, offended.       “Oh, come on,” she muttered. “Unlike you, my heart is not a stale cracker, okay?”       “Okay, okay.”       The attic door creaked open and Bill stepped inside. Dipper turned and frowned. Perhaps it was the conversation with his sister that had affected him, but the demon’s haggard appearance caught his eye. There were shadows under his eyes, and his face was drawn. His already sunken cheeks seemed to have disappeared entirely. His hands, as Mabel had noticed earlier, were covered in small bruises.       Bill, noticing that they were looking at him, smiled broadly:       “Evening,” he waved a trembling hand. “What are you doing?”       “Can’t you see?” Dipper frowned, irritated by his own observations. “Sorting through new books.”       “You’re so mean, Pine Tree,” Cipher laughed, leaning against the wall. “You frown whenever I ask you.”       “Don’t pay him any attention, Bill,” Mabel chuckled, standing up. “Want to come with me to the kitchen for a bite to eat? I promise I won’t frown!”       Dipper pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t need food, he’ll get by,” he thought. Bill said something similar out loud:       “Shooting Star, I already explained that food is needed only for pathetic sacks of… I mean, people. And I’m not human.”       “Yeah, but…”       “I’m a demon. Demons don’t eat food!”       “Yeah, we get that,” Dipper grumbled and sat down at the table, his back to Cipher. “Anything else you want to say?”       To his surprise, the demon remained silent. A second later, there was a crash and Mabel’s terrified scream: “Oh, my God!”       Dipper immediately jumped up and turned around, clutching the book in his hand to slap Cipher. His exhausted and constantly tense brain decided the demon had finally stopped pretending to be a goody-two-shoes and was attacking Mabel. But instead, he saw the twin kneeling beside the teenager sprawled on the floor, feeling his pulse.       “Dipper, he’s unconscious!” Mabel gasped. “Call for uncles!”