Return to Gravity Falls

      “A temporary loss of consciousness caused by spontaneous hypoglycemia, also accompanied by dehydration,” Stanford said sternly, adjusting his glasses. “So don’t worry, sunshine, nothing serious happened to him.”       Mabel, sitting on the mattress next to the unconscious demon, frowned and rubbed her forehead.       “Can anyone translate that?..”       “Hunger fainting,” Dipper said, sitting on the table. “And lack of water.”       Mabel crossed her arms over her chest, “So I was right when I said he needs to eat!”       Stan sighed with displeasure and grumbled, “Great, now we have to waste food on him too.”       “Grunkle!” The girl indignantly nudged him with her elbow.       “What? Not only did he exploit my body, but now he’s going to empty my fridge too!”       “But it is Abuelita who buys all the groceries!       While Mabel and Stan were arguing, Ford approached his grand-nephew and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.       “How are you, Dipper?” he asked.       The boy spread his arms and said, “Well, I’m fine, I guess. I’m just really tired.”       Stanford nodded. Then, rubbing his neck, he whispered:       “Forgive me, Dipper, for making you watch the demon alone. I…” He sighed heavily and looked away. “Anyway, today I’ll make a schedule of who’ll be keeping an eye on Cypher and when. So you can rest.”       “It’s okay, uncle Ford, I understand,” the boy smiled. “Thank you.”       Ford tousled Dipper’s already wild hair and left the attic. Dipper noticed his uncle tried not to even glance at the demon, near whom Mabel and Stan were still arguing. The latter, however, was already losing ground.       “Okay, damn it!” exclaimed Uncle. “I’m not slipping him a laxative!”       “They changed the subject so quickly,” Dipper thought in surprise. Mabel nodded contentedly.       “That’s right, Grunkle Stan!”       “Yeah, yeah… You really can talk the stripes out of zebra,” he grunted in response, waving his hand. “Okay, you two handle the rest. I’ll go talk to the nerd.”       “Abuelita will be so happy when she finds out Bill’s eating with us now,” the twin smiled as soon as uncle Stan left. “She looked so disappointed yesterday when Bill refused her pie!”       “How did you end up arguing about laxatives?” Dipper asked.       Mabel laughed.       “Oh, Grunkle just said that,” she lowered her voice and added a slightly grumpy rasp, mimicking Stan’s. “Since that supernatural clown is going to be crawling around my fridge now, I’m going to throw laxatives in his food! That would be a laugh!” She switched bacl to her voice, “and I told him it was a waste of money. He caved right in!”       “I’m sure he’ll find a cheap alternative to laxatives in no time,” Dipper smiled.       Mabel narrowed her eyes and rolled back and forth.       “Actually, I was planning on pranking Bill first by slipping something into his food…”       “Didn’t you do that by giving him your garlic coffee?”       “Oh, right! But it’s a drink, that doesn’t count!”       Dipper laughed, but a wide yawn cut him off. Mabel’s smile instantly faded.       “Get some sleep, Dip,” she said. “While Bill’s out, you can relax. Otherwise, you’ll soon pass out yourself.”       “Yeah, I’ll rest, but later.” Dipper shook his head, cutting off his sister’s objections. “Uncle Ford said everyone will take turns watching Cipher from now on, so It’ll be easier for me.”       “Oh, that’s great!” Mabel exclaimed happily. “Did you hint to him?”       “No, he brought it up himself.” The twin nodded vigorously.       “That’s good! I hope it’s my turn to keep an eye on Bill today. I was just looking for someone to go shopping with me! You’re too tired, and your constant grumbling is ruining my shopping experience. And the girls won’t be able to come today.”       “You’re going to take him shopping?” Dipper frowned.       “Yeah! I want to buy a new dress! And Bill needs clothes too. He can’t just show off in your pants forever. They’re too small.”       “I don’t think uncle Ford will let Cipher out of the shack.”       Mabel smiled broadly and winked at her brother. It was immediately clear she had no intention of asking her uncle’s permission. They chatted a little longer before Mabel finally went to her room. Standing at the door, she said,       “Goodnight, Dip. Get some sleep, or I’ll glue you to the bed!”       “Got it!” Dipper laughed and waved to his sister.       He really did mean to rest. But later.       Dipper opened the journal to the pages dedicated to Cipher and began to write down the past days. Next to the diary stood a black can of the energy drink The Charger: “Try the wine-grad charge!” the ornate caption read beneath an image of a cartoon man with spiky purple hair getting struck by lightning. Dipper, looking at this signature, couldn’t really understand what wine and graduation had to do with it, because the drink, in fact, tasted like grapes.       Bill’s eyes snapped open and he stared at the wooden ceiling, which was covered in some kind of liquid. There was a terrible noise in his ears, as if someone had turned on an untuned television in his head. Covering his ears with his palms, he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. To his great surprise, as soon as he performed such a simple action, the noise went away. But now it was replaced by dizziness, nausea, and an unbearable pain in his stomach.       “Damn it,” Bill sighed. At that moment, with every fiber of his being, he hated living in this stupid form. He opened his eyes. Right in front of his nose stood a bowl of some kind of broth, which smelled faintly of boiled poultry.       “Oh, come on,” he muttered. “I’m not drinking this.”       His stomach immediately clenched and growled unpleasantly. The demon pursed his lips in displeasure and reluctantly took the plate.       “I’m becoming more human,” he sighed resignedly, examining the patches of fat floating on the surface.       Bill closed his eyes and emptied the bowl in one gulp. Surprisingly, this time his throat didn’t feel excruciating pain, and the broth tasted pleasant.       “Well, that wasn’t so bad,” the demon wiped his lips and set the bowl on the floor. His stomach gurgled in agreement. His mood, which had been somewhere in the depths of a gloomy abyss for the last two days, had improved. Bill stretched contentedly and saw Pine Tree.       “Oh,” Cipher smiled broadly.       The boy was sleeping, his head resting on his journal. He seemed to have fallen asleep by accident, as he was still clutching the pen in his weak fingers. Bill approached the boy, squinted, and tilted his head to the side, studying him. Pine Tree snored quietly, wincing slightly from the unpleasant dream. Thick strands of chestnut hair, which he hadn’t combed in days, stuck out in all directions and covered his forehead. Sleeping, Pine Tree seemed so defenseless and vulnerable that not taking advantage of it would have been a sin.       For three days, the demon waited for the boy to finally relax his attention. Seriously, he was so responsible about fulfilling Sixer’s request that he practically waited for Bill at the bathroom door! His constant vigilance was overly intrusive. But now, while he slept, Cipher had the opportunity to leave. Or was it better to be on the safe side and check how deep in sleep he is?       Bill slowly, trying not to wake him, took the pen from the slender fingers. When the writing instrument was in his possession and the little man continued to sleep as if nothing had happened, Cipher smiled and felt a slight but pleasant thrill. It seemed his heart even began to beat faster. Bill examined the pen, ran his finger over the teeth marks, and aimed the sharp end at the boy’s exposed neck. Now he would strike, plunge the pen into the boy’s carotid artery, free himself from constant surveillance, and leave. And until Star enters the attic, no one will know what happened here. And by that time, Bill will already be long gone, and Pine, bloodstained on the floor, will be dead.       Wonderful.       “That turned out to be even easier than I thought,” Bill smiled, his palms sweating slightly with excitement. Essentially, all he needs to do is strike once. Cipher stared at the barely perceptible pulse in the boy’s neck, oblivious to everything else. Even the sounds of the wind and the birdsong outside the triangular window grew quieter.       Pine Tree, whispering something in his sleep, jerked and buried his face in the crook of his elbow, causing the demon to curse in surprise. Bill glanced at the clock next to him. Almost seven in the morning. No time to waste. Bill prepared to strike.       “What are you doing?!” a shocked voice rang out behind him.       Bill turned and met Shooting Star’s terrified, angry gaze. She quickly grabbed the demon by the wrist and snatched the pen away.       “Don’t you dare even think about hurting my brother,” the girl hissed under her breath, dragging Cipher toward the door. “Or anyone else in this house! Otherwise, I’ll knit you into a sweater for all the gnomes in the forest! Got that?!”       Without waiting for an answer, she pushed the demon out of the attic and practically kicked him down the stairs.       The only reason Bill hadn’t yet reacted to Shooting Star’s remark was confusion. He was so confused, drowning out both his disappointment and anger, that he silently allowed the girl to drag him by the hand to the kitchen and seemed to even nod in response to her threats, not really hearing them. “How could I have missed her?” a nagging thought swirled through his head. This mortal is like a hurricane — you sense her presence minutes before she appears in the room. Bill only came to his senses when he was pinched painfully on the cheek.       “Hey!” he protested, rubbing the sore spot. Star, instead of her usual good-natured smile, gave the demon an angry, disappointed look.       “You need to eat, and since I have no desire to cook for you, you will do it yourself,” she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. Bill repeated her gesture and frowned skeptically.       “You think I’ll do that?”       “I don’t care whether you cook for yourself or not,” Star rolled her eyes in displeasure. “But if you faint from hunger again, I’ll just stuff your carcass into a cramped closet and leave you there for eternity.”       “Yeah-yeah, very funny,” the demon waved her off. “You’re only saying that because you’re angry.”       He really didn’t want to admit that he actually needed food from now on. Just as he didn’t want to accept the fact that he was now powerless. That’s why he stubbornly continued to refuse food and mentally commanded every object he picked up to be covered in nails. But all he got was severe abdominal pain, nausea, and the absence of nails on everything.       The girl curled her lips so tightly that she exposed her upper teeth.       “Yes, I’m angry, because you almost killed my brother! Even though he hasn’t slept for three days because of you! I’m angry because all you want is chaos and the death of my loved ones! But at the same time, I understand that letting you die of starvation is wrong. And that makes me angry even more!”       “Actually, all I want is to figure out how to restore my former perfect appearance and powers,” Bill suddenly admitted. “And chaos… It’s fun, of course, but it’s not the primary goal.”       Star blinked a few times. Then she snorted and turned away.       “Well, yeah, that’s exactly why you didn’t try to kill my brother just now. That’s it, I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Go make yourself breakfast.” She ordered angrily.       Mabel walked over to the stove and stared at the empty frying pan. After defending Bill last night and even considering taking him shopping, she felt like a fool. How could she go shopping with him after that idiot demon almost stabbed Dipper in the neck? Pines was disappointed in herself and her kindness. Grunkle Ford was right when he said Cipher wasn’t worthy of it.       Throwing some eggs and bacon into the frying pan, she turned to see what Bill was doing. Mabel wasn’t at all surprised to see him still standing there. “Does he even know how to cook?” Pines thought with a sigh.       “What?” asked the demon, noticing that she was looking at him.       “Why aren’t you cooking?”       Bill pointed at the stove.       “But you’re the one borrowing this thing.”       “There are three more burners,” Mabel rolled her eyes and continued in a slightly aggressive tone, “So you could easily grab a second frying pan, get some eggs and bacon from the fridge, and turn on the burner, just like I did.”       The girl pointed to a clean frying pan on the shelf. Bill, following her gesture, shrugged.       “Eh, fine.”       The journal’s pages stuck uncomfortably to his cheek. Dipper yawned, slowly lifting his head and wincing when the journal peeled off his cheek and fell with a dull thud onto the table. “Did I fall asleep?” he sighed, rubbing his face and gazing at the pink sky outside the window. Dipper turned his head toward Cipher’s sleeping place, hoping the demon was still unconscious. But he wasn’t there. The remnants of sleep disappeared. He jumped up from his chair, his knees cracking, and stared in confusion at the rumpled bedding on the empty mattress. He took a step to the side and accidentally kicked the empty bowl he had brought to Cypher while he was still unconscious.       “What the hell?” Dipper was genuinely startled when he saw the attic door closed.       The sky outside the window had turned a deep crimson. Pines spun around and now stared at the fiery glow over the black forest.       “No, no, no…”       His brain, which hadn’t slept properly in almost a week, could only come up with one theory: Weirdmageddon had begun. This was what Pines had been thinking about for the past three days, what he had constantly expected and feared.       A shudder ran through him, the thought that while he’d been sleeping, the demon had escaped. His throat tightened with fear.       Bill had escaped and already brought about the end of the world.       Dipper opened his mouth to call for Mabel or his uncle, anyone, but no sound came out. What if they were already dead, or chained somewhere, exhausted and frightened?       A wheeze escaped his throat. Dipper instinctively grasped his neck, realizing he couldn’t breathe in or out. His heart was pounding so hard that the noise was ringing in his ears. The panic grew stronger with each passing second. Dipper stood there, clawing at his neck and chest, thinking that if he didn’t breathe now, he’d die.       He’d die and be unable to help anyone.       And all because he’d fallen asleep.       The horror of the situation crashed down on Dipper, completely overwhelming him. Shaking all over, he wanted to lean his elbows on the table and try to at least cough to regain his breath, but the lump in his throat prevented him from doing even that.       “This is the end, this is the end-end-end,” the desperate thought pounded in his head.       The attic door creaked open, letting in Mabel’s disgruntled voice.       “Because you should have listened to me and cooked on low heat!” the girl protested. “And you turned it up to the highest setting, and now you’re eating coals.”       Dipper turned around. He stared wide-eyed as his sister entered the attic, backwards, holding a tray with breakfast. Bill followed her, pouting like a small child.       “Shouldn’t a high fire speed up the nasty cooking process?” he grumbled. Tearing his eyes away from his plate, which held something black, he met Dipper’s fearful gaze.       “Hey, Pine Tree, what’s wrong?” the demon asked, surprised. Mabel turned to her brother. Noticing the boy clutching his throat, his mouth open, she immediately thrust the tray into Cipher’s hand and ran over to Dipper.       “Hey!” Bill barely managed to hold it up with one hand and nearly dropped the coffee mug.       “Gosh, Dipper!” Mabel led him to the wall, helping him lean on it. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m right here.”       The girl slowly stroked her brother’s shoulders, calming him down. And Dipper, although he felt a huge relief at the sight of his safe and sound sister and the demon who hadn’t run away, still couldn’t breathe properly. The lump in his throat was preventing air from getting into his lungs, making them feel like they were about to shrink to the size of a raisin.       “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Mabel repeated. “Just listen to me, Dip. Try to breathe slowly, not too sharply, okay?”       Bill, bowing his head, watched with interest as the pale Pine Tree, leaning against Star, tried unsuccessfully to do what bags of bones usually do automatically — breathe.       “Are you scared, Pine Tree?” the demon chuckled. He set the tray on the table and plopped down on the barely alive human’s bed. Pine Tree, watching him, suddenly inhaled convulsively.       “Fuck you,” he croaked, falling to the floor. Star immediately sat down next to him.       “Are you okay, Dip?” she asked. Pine patted his sister’s hand and shook his head.       “It’s alright.”       Bill reached out, grabbed a plate from the tray — not his own, of course — and popped a piece of fried bacon into his mouth. “Hmm, this is delicious. Now I understand why humans love fried pigs so much,” Bill smiled.       “Usually humans don’t have trouble breathing,” he stated, chewing. The boy decided to pretend to be deaf and ignore Cypher, and Star, her eyes wide, jumped up and handed the demon a plate with what he had prepared himself.       “That’s for Dipper!” she protested, snatching away the plate of properly cooked breakfast. “Eat what you burned!”       “Pfff, whatever,” Cipher snorted. But he had no desire to try his own creation.       “Wait, who let him near the stove?” Pine Tree asked, surprised. Rubbing his scratched neck, he rose to his feet. “What if he’d burned down the entire kitchen?”       “Oh, come on, bro, I was right there,” the girl waved him off. “So only his breakfast was damaged.”       Pine Tree frowned but said nothing. He took the plate from his sister, nodded his thanks, and sat down at the table, burying his nose in his coffee mug. He immediately choked, spitting out half of it.       “Why so sweet?!”       The teenager’s surprised expression was a caricature. He winced, spat, and shook his head comically.       “Sweet?” Star asked, surprised. “I don’t know, I just added a spoonful of syrup, honestly!”       Bill chuckled nastily. Of course, he’d originally planned to add something vile to Pine’s mug, but all he had on hand was the bottle of syrup Shooting Star used to flavor everything possible and not. So he’d had to make do with that. When the girl turned away in search of a tray, the demon poured half the bottle’s contents into the coffee.       “Bill, what did you do?” Shooting Star asked, crossing her arms. The demon shrugged.       “I didn’t do anything!” Bill’s eyes widened and he plastered on his most innocent smile. “Honestly!”       Pine Tree closed his eyes and muttered something almost silently. Probably a prayer. Then, with a deep sigh, he pushed the mug away and busied himself with breakfast. Bill pursed his lips in disappointment. He’d hoped for a much more dramatic reaction. Attempts to kick him or smash dishes, at least. But the boy clearly decided to choose the most boring tactic. Star, looking at Bill, merely shook her head.       “You know your laughter gave you away, right?” she asked. The demon lounged on Pine’s bed and nodded. “Oh, Bill… you can’t just give yourself away like that!” The girl looked at the boy as if she were a teacher disappointed in her student.       Cypher’s mouth stretched into a wide grin. He waved his hand, about to reply, and accidentally knocked over the plate with pieces of burnt breakfast. The coals scattered across Pine’s bed, leaving black marks on the linen.       “Oops,” Bill chuckled. Mabel slapped her forehead and sighed, and Pine Tree finally lost it. He slammed his palms on the tabletop and jumped up from his chair, knocking it over, then grabbed Cipher by the ankle.       “You should know how much you’re pissing me off,” the guy growled through his teeth. “How many times have I told you not to lie on my bed?!”       “Forty-three times in the last two days,” Bill said happily. “Forty-four already.”       Pine Tree yanked the demon’s ankle sharply, dragging him off the bed. Bill, feeling his ass about to hit the floor, grabbed the sheets.       “No, no, wait, Pine Tree!” he burst out laughing, falling and dropping the poor, stained sheet behind him. “You’re so mean.”       “Fuck you!” the boy gave Bill the finger and knocked a plate off the bed. The old bowl hit Cipher on the top of his head before falling.       “Dipper!” Shooting Star exclaimed, watching her angry brother fly out of the attic. Then she sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You sure do enjoy making my brother angry.”       Bill laughed contentedly, rubbing the top of his head.       He really did enjoy pissing off Pine Tree. He also enjoyed pissing off Sixer. The two nerds reacted very similarly, and the demon enjoyed noticing all the similarities and finding the differences in their reactions.       “Hey, Mabel!” Pine’s voice came from the first floor. “Come down, uncle’s calling. And that idiot should come too!”       The demon, listening to Pine Tree’s voice, pouted like a five-year-old.       “Why doesn’t he call me by my name?” he grumbled, jabbing a thin finger at the floor. Mabel rose to her feet and shrugged.       “Why don’t you ever call us by our names?” she asked, smirking. Bill grinned broadly.       “Because those nicknames are much better than your real names!” the demon announced. “And anyway, no one ever calls Pine Tree by his real name. And he doesn’t complain.”       “Mabel, come down quickly!” Sixer’s stern voice was heard. The girl, not paying attention to him, looked in surprise at the lazily rising guy.       “How did you know about his name?” she asked, amazed. “Even the uncles don’t know!” Bill chuckled smugly.       “Come on, Star. I’m a demon of the mind! I know a lot,” he spread his arms wide and lifted his chin proudly. “And such a wondrous and all-powerful being should be called by his name by pathetic sacks of bones! But, well, you can also call me the Almighty-Master-of-the-Entire-World, or simply Master.”       Star snorted derisively.       “Okay, Almighty Demon, let’s go down already, or uncle Ford will drag us by the ears.”       “You surely took your time,” Stanley snorted when Bill and Mabel finally got down in living room. Stanford merely frowned and crossed his arms.       “Sorry, uncles,” Mabel smiled radiantly. “Did something happen? Why did you call us?”       Grunkle Stan cleared his throat.       “Oh, right. It’s Saturday…”       “Oh, today’s family fun day!” the girl, interrupting her uncle, squealed with joy. “Let’s go on a picnic? Or…”       “We’re not going anywhere,” Ford cut her off. Mabel dropped her hands in disappointment.       “What? But why?”       Dipper, sprawled on the couch, sighed. Even though he’d been wanting to spend the weekend enjoying family get-togethers, he knew his uncles had a valid reason for canceling. And that very reason was now brazenly sitting right on Dipper’s feet.       “Get off, dumbass,” Dipper muttered, trying to pull his legs out from under Bill. “You weigh as much as a damn cloud.”       Ford, looking at the boys scurrying on the couch, shook his head disapprovingly.       “Sorry, pumpkin, but spending the weekend with that demonic scarecrow roaming under our roof isn’t the best idea,” Stan patted Mabel on the shoulder, trying to reassure her.       “But…”       “Stanley’s right. We need to be keeping a close eye on the demon right now, not amusing ourselves,” Ford adjusted his glasses and glared at the blond man fidgeting on the couch. Bill, catching the scientist’s eye, winked contentedly. Ford immediately curled his lip and turned away.       “Amusing ourselves now would be simply foolish,” he concluded, frowning. Dipper finally managed to pull his legs out from under Cipher and, giving him a final kick in the back, moved away from the demon. Bill only laughed. “He’s acting like a child,” Pines sighed.       “I disagree,” Mabel declared, placing her hands on her hips. “Nobody’s stopping us from taking Bill with us!”       “Mabel,” Ford sighed and shivered, feeling uneasy. “I understand you were really looking forward to our time together, but this is non-negotiable. We’re not going anywhere. And the demon, even more so.”       The girl opened her mouth to reply, but the scientist cut off any possible indignation with a sharp raise of his hand.       “If you want to go out, invite your friends,” he snapped.       Dipper frowned. He sat up on the couch, intending to support his sister and persuade his uncle to take the day off, but the scientist, fluttering his coat, strode quickly out of the living room.       Two pairs of eyes looked sympathetically at Mabel, who was disappointedly hypnotizing the wall behind which Ford had disappeared.       “Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll go out together later,” Grunkle Stan smiled.       “Mhm,” the girl nodded, disappointed.       “It turns out that Sixer is such a tyrant,” Bill said with admiration. He turned to Star and placed his hand on his chest. “Even I’ve never denied my servants a chance to have fun! That’s the ultimate in cruelty!”       Stan chuckled.       “When a demon talks about cruelty, it’s worth thinking about,” he muttered. “Probably.”       Dipper rolled his eyes, and Mabel sighed and turned to her brother.       “Dip, will you come with me?” She folded her hands in a pleading gesture. “Pleeeease!”       “Mabel, I…” the boy trailed off. Dipper squeezed his eyes shut and, opening his mouth wide, announced to everyone present the extreme state of his sleepiness. Bill giggled and put a finger in his closing mouth.       “Are you completely stupid, or something?” Pine pushed the hand away from his face. Stan and Bill burst into laughter.       “Just like to a kitten,” Mabel grinned. “But now I understand it’s better not to invite you along; you’ll fall asleep right there on the street.”       “Call Soos,” suggested her uncle, after finishing his laughter. “We’re not working today; he’ll be happy to keep you company.”       The girl nodded.       “Yeah, I’ll call him.”       “Well, that’s great,” Grunkle Stan said, rising from his chair with a soft groan. “Okay, I’m off to breakfast. By the way, you, hornless devil, are under my supervision today.”       Bill frowned with displeasure.       “I’m perfectly happy with the attention of just Pine Tree,” the demon said, grabbing Dipper by the knee. Pine reflexively kicked him.       “Get lost!”       “Come on, demon!” Stanley grabbed Bill by the arm and pulled him along. “I’ll teach you how to make my favorite omelet.”       Smiling broadly, Mabel waved to the demon, who, struggling in the old man’s grip, looked extremely unhappy at the prospect of learning to cook anything.       “Can’t you cook it yourself?” Cipher grumbled. Stan’s fingers tightened around his thin, pale wrist.       “Keep being sarcastic and I’ll kick you!”       Alone in the living room, the twins exchanged glances. Dipper yawned again and stretched out on the couch.       “Are you going to sleep? Mabel smiled. Her brother nodded.       “Yeah, at least a little.”       “Great!” The girl ran up and placed a light kiss on Dipper’s forehead, but a second later, as if remembering something unpleasant, she grew serious. “Just be careful anyway.”       “Be careful sleeping?” the young man chuckled. “Okay, I’ll try not to fall off the couch.”       “No, that’s not what I meant!” Mabel waved her hands in denial and laughed. “It’s just, well… Anyway… Oh, never mind.” The girl immediately waved and headed into the hallway, trying to hide her nervousness. The twin’s worried look raised a ton of questions in Dipper’s mind. He sat up on the couch and grabbed his sister by the sleeve of her purple sweater, forcing to stop.       “May, what’s wrong?”       She sighed and opened her mouth, clearly about to say something, but then changed her mind and closed it. She shook her head, flailing her long strands of hair, which slapped her face several times, and smiled broadly.       “It’s fine,” she said, and, freeing herself, ran off.       Left alone, Dipper fell back onto the couch, covering his face with his hand. “And how should this be understood?” he sighed wearily. The clatter of dishes and Cipher’s cursing came from the kitchen. “Maybe it’s because of him?” Pines thought. Mabel took the demon away while Dipper was sleeping. What if Bill had offended her somehow when they were in the kitchen? Or said something careless that was now making the twin worried?       “That demon’s nothing but trouble,” Dipper exhaled, rolling over onto his side and closing his eyes. He desperately wanted to sleep, but the noise from the kitchen — the clatter of dishes and Bill and Stan’s arguing — was keeping him awake. Despite his growing irritation, Dipper continued to lie on the couch. He didn’t want to go up to the attic at all. “I hope they shut up soon,” he thought.       “Are your hands growing out of your ass?!” Grunkle Stan suddenly yelled, especially loudly, causing Dipper to flinch in surprise. He smelled something burning.       “Fuck you, you old moron!” Cipher yelled back. Dipper covered his ears with his hands: “Oh, come on…” At that moment, he regretted not leaving with Mabel and Soos. He heard the sound of glass shattering — a plate smashing on the wooden floor. The next second, Bill, furious and flushed, ran out of the kitchen, stomping his bare feet loudly.       “Stick your pan you know where?!” he shouted, racing upstairs.       A long-awaited silence reigned. The smell of burning, wafting from the kitchen throughout the house, seemed to settle in Dipper’s nose and throat, preventing him from breathing freely and relaxing. The boy buried his face in the crook of his elbow. He felt strange: his eyes ached from lack of sleep, his brain clamored for proper rest, but his body was tense, as if it was about to jump up and, at the very least, start fighting off a horde of zombies.       Stan, muttering under his breath, entered the living room. He shuffled toward the couch and paused. Dipper considered either moving his legs to make room for his uncle or letting him know he was awake, but his body, despite the lingering tension, refused to perform even such simple actions. It felt as if the boy’s body had suddenly been pressed into the sofa, and several heavy weights had been placed on top for good measure.       A fluffy blanket suddenly covered his bare feet.       “Sleep, kiddo,” uncle Stan grumbled and, still shuffling, left.       Bill, bursting into the attic, slammed the door so loudly he nearly deafened himself. He fell hard onto Pine’s tumbled bed and stared blankly at the dreamcatcher swaying from the ceiling.       “Stupid old man,” he sighed, stretching his hands toward the ceiling. They were covered in red marks from when he’d grabbed the hot frying pan. His fingers and palms burned, as if he were still holding it. Now he understood why Star had insisted that Cipher use what she’d called “potholders.”       The pain from the burns was infuriating, and the more angry he was, the more painful it was on his burned hands.       For the fourth day now, Bill had been forced to endure all the shortcomings of this damned body. And every flaw in his human form enraged the demon to the point of gnashing his teeth.       Firstly, he was angered by the feeling of pain — his constant companion all these days. First they hit him on the head. Then they peel the skin off his vertebrae while dragging him up the stairs, then they kick him all day, and then they hit him again — this time in the face. And to top it all off, Sixer decided to practice acupuncture on Cypher, or, more accurately, conduct a bunch of scientific experiments on him. And the pain — sharp, stabbing, aching, pulsing throughout his body — won’t let him rest. It angered him, made him grind his teeth and suppress the trembling in this weak, sleep-deprived, and starved human body, which the demon could no longer leave, to become just an idea, a thought — unfeeling and intangible.       Secondly, he was irritated by Sixer’s obsession with constantly keeping an eye on him. No, of course, on the one hand, it was funny to piss off Pine Tree, who with each sleepless night became paler and more transparent, and the bruises under who’s eyes became darker, but the persistent surveillance — which, by the way, was also terribly infuriating — did not allow him to just… breathe out.       The demon was also irritated by all the urges his new body was experiencing. Now that the body belonged entirely to the demon, it was disgusting to feel a constant pain in the stomach, to feel how the eyelids grow heavy at the most inopportune moments and, worst of all, to understand that all digestive processes were now characteristic of Bill’s body. And this infuriated the demon even more.       Cypher clenched his fists and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. An irritating shuffling sound came from the stairs. The door creaked. And then something landed hard, right on Bill’s left buttock. The guy immediately jumped up — the door to the attic slammed shut.       “What the…” Bill frowned, looking around the empty room. His gaze then scanned the bed and came across a light-colored tube. The demon picked it up and turned it over, examining.       “Burn ointment…” he read. “Carefully apply a thin layer to the affected areas of skin and wait until completely absorbed. Pfft… Actually, it would be a good idea to run hands under cold water first.”       Bill lay back down. He stretched his arms toward the ceiling again. He slowly unscrewed the cap, squeezed a little ointment onto his palm, and rubbed it in. The strong aroma of tar permeated the room. Cypher sighed and winced at the pungent smell as he put the ointment under Pine Tree’s pillow. The cap of the tube lay somewhere beneath Bill’s torso. Soon an unpleasant smell came from under the pillow.       Surprisingly, such a small action like applying ointment to burns distracted him from his silent rage, as if the ointment had cooled not only his hands but his mind as well.       The dreamcatcher hanging above the demon’s head swayed lazily, hypnotizing him with the dance of its dangling feathers. Bill watched the movement of it intently. The small gold beads woven into the webbing of the dreamcatcher gleamed dully in the gray daylight. Bill yawned and rubbed his eyes.       “Why did you leave him alone?!” Sixer’s indignant cry suddenly rang out throughout the house. Bill, who had almost fallen asleep, nearly jumped in surprise. The calm that had just descended on the demon vanished. Quick, loud footsteps were heard. The guy tensed up.       “I told you we need to keep an eye on him at all times!” the old scientist continued shouting. “What if he broke something? Or stole something?! Or…”       “Wow,” Cipher chuckled softly, “Sixer, you’re so paranoid!”       When the man burst into the attic, Bill didn’t even bother to look up and continued to watch the swinging dreamcatcher.       “You’re coming with me!” Sixer announced. Bill, grunting in response, finally deigned to look at the man who had entered.       “Why?”       “You know why!” the old man exclaimed angrily. “And I won’t tolerate your fussing, get up and let’s go.”       Pretending to be a man making incredible concessions, Cipher rose from the bed. Sixer impatiently tapped his foot, waiting for the demon to leave the room and begin descending the stairs. Bill, going down the steps at a snail’s pace, found Sixer’s irritation incredibly enjoyable. And when Bill felt a nudge in his back, urging him on, he couldn’t help but grin with satisfaction.       In the living room, lounging in a blue armchair that smelled of mothballs, sat Stanly. He glanced disapprovingly at his brother, then stared at the silent television. Pine Tree was curled up on the sofa, asleep. Only the top of his head was sticking out from under the blanket.       “Aren’t you bored yet?” Stanly muttered, not taking his eyes off the TV, where a strange bald dog was chasing some boy.       “What are you talking about?” Sixer frowned.       “About your nerdy pastimes.”       Ford adjusted his glasses and pursed his lips.       “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”       “Wow, for the first time in this life, my boring brother doesn’t understand something,” Stanley smiled mirthlessly. “Well, let me explain.”       He finally tore his gaze away from the TV and looked at his brother.       “None of us like what you’re doing in your basement with that little blond devil,” he said, bowing his head. “I’m certainly not going to talk you out of anything — it’s not like I’m particularly worried about this thin misunderstanding, and it’s really too much to waste my nerves on you, you stubborn idiot…”       “Hey!” Sixer said indignantly. Bill chuckled softly.       “…but if you hurt him, Mabel, along with this,” the old man nodded toward the sleeping Pine Tree. “They’ll definitely eat your brains out. And I think they’ll be right if they suddenly tell you you’re crazy.”       Shestopal grabbed Bill by the elbow, squeezing it painfully, and walked on quickly, dragging the demon along with him.       Already at the door, Cypher glanced back at Fresca, who was once again glued to the television, and sang cheerfully to the man walking beside him:       “It seems not everyone in your family shares your new hobby, huh, friend?”       The old man quickly entered the code, opening a secret passage, and pushed Bill through the resulting opening.       “I’m not your friend.”       They went down two floors. The room where Bill spent every evening greeted him with the familiar smell of rubbing alcohol and a dim light, in which tiny red lights blinked brightly and screens glowed with numbers: 8-5 9-19 1-14-7-18-25 15-14-20-25 15-14 8-9-13-19-5-12-6.       Without waiting for an invitation, Cypher plopped down on the medical cot in the middle of the dark room and began swinging his legs with such a carefree air, as if he were sitting on a park bench rather than in Sixer’s newly-built laboratory. Sixer himself walked over to the table, littered with scribbled scraps of paper, flasks of multicolored liquids, and other junk from the “Young Chemist” kit.       The demon stared at the clock on the corner of the table. Every day, the old man set a new record for ignoring Cypher before proceeding to the “medical examination.”       “So how are you going to amuse yourself today?” Bill asked after two hours of silence. “Are you going to draw another liter of my blood for tests? Or shine a laser in my eyes? Or maybe you’ll perform an autopsy on my mortal body?”       “If you don’t shut up, I’ll cut out your tongue,” Sixer muttered with dangerous calmness in his voice, his gaze fixed on the constantly changing indicators on one of the screens. “And I’m sure everyone will thank me.”       “Oh, so that’s it!” the demon smiled. “You still crave human recognition! How sweet!”       A wrinkled, six-fingered hand twitched toward the scalpel lying on the edge of the table, but it never reached it, clenching into a fist.       “Oh, oh, oh, didn’t you hear what your brother said? If you hurt me, you’ll never get the love and respect of your dear grandchildren,” Bill chuckled.       The old man took a deep breath, calming himself. Then he pulled several cubes from the drawer and tossed them at Cypher’s feet.       “Today we’ll test your abilities,” he announced. “Make them levitate.”       Bill raised a mocking eyebrow.       “Yeah, maybe I should put them in the word 'Fordsy' too?” the demon smiled, feeling the urge to make this 'Fordsy' devour those damn cubes. Bill knew that Pine Tree, who had already filled nearly ten pages with notes about how helpless Cipher was now, was relaying all his observations to the old narcissist. And either Sixer was so stupid that he didn’t trust his grandnephew, forcing Bill to demonstrate his missing abilities, or he simply wanted to laugh at the demon. “Or both,” the guy concluded, noticing the scientist’s haughty look.       “Simple levitation will be enough,” Sixer snapped.       Bill demonstratively crossed his legs and, resting his elbows on them, put his chin on his palms.       “I won’t,” he said, narrowing his eyes. The demon had no intention of displaying his weakness in front of this gloating old man. He’d rather let Ford draw almost eight hundred milliliters of blood again for supposed analysis (no, seriously, what was he going to do with that much of Bill’s blood, bathe in it? It certainly wouldn’t help him rejuvenate) than be convinced once again of the absence of his former abilities.       Sixer, watching the demon through the scratched lenses of his glasses, tapped his fingers on the table.       “Why so?” he almost whispered, continuing to tap. “Are you really refusing to show off your powers? Have you finally stopped bragging about your supernatural strength?”       “Says the show-off,” Cipher chuckled, suppressing the irritation caused by the old man’s words and the pounding sound in his head. “You know, if it weren’t for your desire to show everyone how exceptional you are, it would be more difficult to…”       “Okay, that’s it!” Ford couldn’t take it anymore. Bill noted, with some pleasure, the nervous twitch of Sixer’s eye. “Since you refuse to perform such a simple task, I conclude that you’ve lost all your demonic abilities.”       Before Bill could open his mouth to respond, Sixer opened his diary and began reading the entries:       “You cannot instantly regenerate, as evidenced by the still-unhealed bruises from injections and, hah, punches. Your body, like any…” Here the scientist lowered his voice and practically hissed the next word. “…human one, requires food and water, and also, based on my research, your blood is no different from human blood. All the same components as ours… To sum it up: from now on, you’re just a simple teenager. An extremely annoying one and capable of insane acts, I’m sure of that, but still a teenager.”       “I. Am. Not. Human,” hissed Cipher.       The scientist slammed his diary shut.       “I don’t see any evidence.”       “Oh, Demiurge…” Bill sighed irritably under his breath, but Ford still heard and remarked maliciously:       “When a demon starts remembering a god, it means he’s very angry.”       “You think you have an advantage over me just because you angered me?” Bill grinned maliciously, jumping off the couch. “Or do you think you’re better than me because you think I’m powerless now? All this research of yours — it’s not about understanding what I’m capable of. And your obsession with always keeping an eye on me? It’s not about protecting those skin bags you supposedly treasure! You’re just trying to get even with me.”       Cipher grinned broadly, watching the scientist’s jaw twitch.       “Oh, you little humans are so funny! You try to portray yourself as a hero, but in reality you only reveal yourself as an idiot who can’t even take care of his own family! You ruin them with your stupid assignments and prohibitions, and turn them against you. And all for the sake of petty revenge and a desire to exalt yourself!”       “Alright, that’s enough!” Sixer angrily threw down the diary, which skidded across the table, knocking over several vials. Multicolored liquid soaked the notes and dripped onto the floor.       “Why? Does the truth hurts your eyes too much?” Cipher waved his hand, pointing either at Ford or at the objects around him. Several cubes on the floor, obeying his hand, rolled to the left, but no one noticed. “You say I’m capable of insane acts? But look at you…”       “I SAID, ENOUGH!” Stanford reached out to grab the demon, but he dodged and flew out of the room.       Bill burst out of the dark doorway, and daylight momentarily blinded him. The vending machine slid back into place with a soft hiss, concealing the secret passage from view. He closed his eyes, ran a hand through his hair, and tried to calm himself. “Damn Sixer,” he sighed. He pushed open the door to the living room and, glancing out the window at the truck speeding in the distance, entered the room.       “…I don’t think he needs your wallet, gruncle Stan,” Pine Tree said slowly, looking at his enraged relative. The boy, wrapped in a blanket like a cocoon, rested his chin on the sofa cushion he was hugging. He looked disheveled after sleep, like a sparrow after a storm, but rested.       “If that infernal idiot didn’t steal it, then who?” the copy of Sixer shook his cane, almost knocking everything around with it. And now, swinging it again, he almost hit Pine Tree: the teenager barely managed to dodge.       The creaking of the door drew everyone’s attention to the newcomer. Stanley, as soon as he saw Bill, jumped up to him and jabbed the tip of his cane into his chest.       “Hey, listen, kid!” he shouted. “Where’s my wallet?!”       Pine sighed softly, settling more comfortably on the sofa, and Bill, tilting his head to the side, frowned.       “How am I supposed to know where you leave your stuff, old man?” he muttered, pushing his cane away with two fingers. “Find it where you left it.”       “Don’t lecture me!” Stanley put his hand on the demon’s shoulder and shook him. “The wallet was in my jacket pocket! And it was never missing! And then, as soon as you showed up at my house, it disappeared!”       Bill felt the thin thread of his already fragile demonic patience snapping within him. But the approaching explosion of emotion was interrupted by a loud beeping sound from the street. All three exchanged glances and frowned.       “What’s that?” Stan grumbled, letting go of the demon and heading for the front door.       “Sounds like a parking car,” Dipper shrugged. Bill, ostentatiously brushing invisible dirt off his shoulder, plopped down in a chair.       The door swung open, nearly hitting Stan as he approached, and a happy Mabel burst into the room. She was holding nearly a dozen bags chock-full of clothes.       “Oh, Grunkle Stan!” the girl smiled. “Can you help?”       And without waiting for an answer, she thrust the bags at her stunned uncle. Behind her, Soos was giving orders to two workers hauling a bed.       “Hey, dudes, stay out of the door!” he shouted, addressing the Pines family. Mabel, putting her arm around her uncle, pulled him aside.       “Mabel, sweetie, what the hell is this?” Stan asked hoarsely, watching the bed being carried into the house.       “It’s to the attic!” came Soos’s command for workers.       “Oh, you won’t believe this!” the girl led her uncle back into the living room and sat down on the couch next to her brother. “Soos and I met so many familiar faces while we were out walking! Even Toby Determined — he’s, by the way, still so… um…”       The girl nudged her smiling brother with her elbow, clearly hinting at something, and continued chattering enthusiastically.       “Well, you get the idea! And Gideon was there, too, but luckily I managed to hide in the nearest shop. It turned out to be a fitness club. Dipper, did you know there’s a fitness club here now? And I met such a guy there…” Mabel sighed deeply and cast a dreamy gaze upward, and Bill blessed the momentary ringing silence.       “That’s all wonderful, of course,” Stan frowned, but it was clear he wasn’t particularly angry. “But what’s this?”       The old man pointed to a huge shelving unit that the poor workers were trying to squeeze through the doorway, accompanied by Soos’s encouraging admonitions: “A little to the left!” “Higher, higher, dudes!”       “Oh, that,” the girl brushed a strand of chestnut hair off her shoulder and fidgeted on the couch. “Well, Dip kept telling me he wanted a bookcase, so I decided to buy one… And a bed for Bill too, because it’s not cool that he only sleeps on a mattress! And we also got him a dresser, a chair, some clothes… And some other odds and ends…”       “Uh, Mabel, where did you get the money for all this?” Dipper asked, surprised. Bill, guessing what the answer would be, covered his wide smile with his hand.       Mabel bit her lip and looked up at her uncle with mock guilt. Stan, watching his great-niece closely, slowly began to understand.       “So, weren’t you the one who stole my wallet?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.       “I didn’t steal it, Grunkle Stan, I borrowed it!” Mabel pulled a plump leather purse from her pocket and, to her brother’s laughter, handed it to her uncle.