#alternatefalls

The strange (memory) echoed in his head as the pain receded, but he didn't understand what it meant. He was hungry.

Cautiously, he looked around. It (was familiar) felt safe.

He was supposed to stay. Stay and stay and stay and not move and be safe until his mama came to feed him. But he was hungry and he didn't even smell his mama, didn't even know what she should smell like and that was scary and bad.

His mama (no, that's not right, Mom's not here she can't help she… she's in Cal… cali… mont… ugh, hurts…)

Mama wasn't coming and he was hungry. Safe here. Hungry. He moved his hind legs, unfolding them and then carefully moving them, trembling with effort, until he stood on hind hooves, kneeling on his forelegs. He pushed up with his forelegs until he stood, front hooves carefully spread to keep his balance as he wobbled.

Tired already.

But hungry.

And in a small place up high. Trapped?

(No no, not trapped, stupid, think! I… I'm human! Not… not a helpless-)

The agony that came with trying to think beyond simple deer instinct was blinding. He closed his eyes and tried not to move, trembling with the effort of standing until the ache faded again. Any human thought, he realized with dismay, no matter how small, came with the price of pain.

(It'll cost you!)

He understood now. But even that understanding brought with it a swell of agony. (Gotta… gotta pick my battles if I want any control. Keep it simple…)

(Chair. Grunkle… chair. Get down. Find help.) Hungry. Need to find his mama…

Shakily, he stepped one hoof off the chair and fell to the floor in an uncoordinated tangle of legs.

It didn't hurt but (embarrassing) now he was tired and would have to stand all over again.

He untangled himself, folded his legs beneath him, and lay there, waiting for what little strength he had to return. His ears swiveled back and forth, catching all kinds of strange sounds. In the distance, beyond the creaks and groans and hums (of the Shack) he could hear (voices), loud, soft, rising, falling. So many smells, thick and heavy in the air. He sniffed and sniffed, and his tongue flicked out to lick his nose when it itched. (Ew, gross…)

He looked around. So (strange). Faded colors.

(Except… the aquarium. Starkly blue amidst washed out colors. That is strange. Why is that? Do my eyes just not have the longer cones that see the green and red parts of the spectr-)

The bolt of pain that stabbed through his head was so sharp, so painful, he couldn't help but let out a bleat of distress. He pressed his head, chin down, to the floor, ears laid back, his whole body shivering in reaction. His head throbbed in time to his too-quick pulse. It seemed like a long while, lying still and letting complex thought fade into a fog of animalistic simplicity, before the pain slowly dulled to a low ache.

(Don't wonder why. Why hurts. Why is bad.)

Finally, he lifted his head again.

Hungry. Still hungry. Still so tired. Where… where was his mama? He was hungry and he needed his mama…

Deep within him, the sheer wrongness and persistence of that mortifying newborn deer instinct inspired a muted burst of anger, fear, and rebellion in his clouded mind. (No!… I… I'm Dipper Pines! I'm human! I'm almost thirteen years old! I'm not really a baby deer, I can't be, I won't let this curse make me think-)

Pain. Great, harsh pounding in his head ascended to an agonizing peak and beat down his fierce human indignation, smothering it until it was little more than a weak, barely-felt protest. Animal instinct filled his mind and his senses with the need to stay bedded down and wait for his mama to find him and feed him.

(no…) Hazily, he understood that giving up and letting his infant deer instincts rule him was bad, but, as the pain slowly faded, he couldn't remember why.

Dazed, blinking slowly, his gaze was drawn to the (blue) again. (water...)

In the water, a little animal swam around.

He looked at it, confused. Curious. (curious…)

Gathering his strength, he slowly pushed himself from the floor until he stood again on four thin, trembling legs, and stepped carefully toward the swimming thing, sniffing, his nose twitching as he investigated the strange creature.

(Not a fish. Pale. It has legs. Sala… salamander.) He expected pain at the (thought), but none came.

It was looking at him. It was (smiling).

The smiling salamander winked at him, and vanished. Water rushed in to fill the salamander-shaped space left behind.

Dipper startled backward with a little bleat, and fell on his rump.

(What… what was…?) He stopped. He wanted to (think). He wanted to (wonder). But the ache began to rise again, and he couldn't take much more; it was already too much and he was so tired of hurting so he let the (human thoughts) sink away.

Hungry. Find help. Find mama.

He struggled to stand again, the strange, smiling creature already forgotten.

Ears up and alert, he followed the sound of (voices), carefully making his way up a few (steps) to an (open door) that led to the (gift shop). Through the thick fog that filled his mind, he understood that human words and concepts were peppering his deer thoughts and instincts like light, slightly stinging drops of hot rain. But it wasn't something he was consciously trying to do, and the pain was minimal.

His little hooves clacked softly on the wooden floor, and he glanced around, noticing again that, amidst all the clutter of the gift shop, (blues) and (purples) were bright and vivid. Instinctively, he stopped his thoughts from going beyond just noticing.

Until he saw the (sign).

The (sign) on the (door) he'd just walked through, the one he had seen every day, all summer long. The (sign) that said… something. He blinked at it. It was supposed to say something, mean something, and Dipper felt a very human surge of horror as he realized he couldn't (read).

He staggered back and almost fell again. (No no no, this is wrong!) He stared at the (sign), fighting against the spike of pain that abruptly split his skull as he tried to force the (sign) to make sense. Tried to make the incomprehensible marks look like (letters) so the (letters) could form (words).

(Fight the pain, fight it, look, read!) The marks stubbornly refused to become legible in his mind, and (hurting, hurting… no… please… no…) darkness ate away at his vision. As he struggled, refusing to give in, the pain in his head became excruciating beyond anything he had ever felt, and for the first time, Dipper understood the magnitude of what the curse had done to him.

(I can't read, oh no, I can't read, I can't think, I'm trapped, I'm just a dumb animal, I'm never going to break this curse, I'm stuck this way forever…) The despair that weighed heavy in his chest matched the pain in his head. His thin legs were shaking as darkness closed in. What little strength he had abandoned him, and he collapsed to the gift shop floor, barely conscious, breathing hard, his head throbbing in time to his pounding heart.

It was then that he discovered that deer couldn't cry.

Mabel stared down at her hands, clasped in her lap, as she listened to Grunkle Ford explain about the rift. And what he was saying was not okay.

She understood that the rift was an accidental result of the portal's activation, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that Grunkle Ford was placing the blame for the rift's existence on Grunkle Stan. That he was saying that rebuilding the portal was dangerous, foolish, irresponsible, and that doing so had given Bill his chance to end the world.

"His second chance, you mean," Mabel said, looking up at him.

"What?" Grunkle Ford's genuinely puzzled expression only exasperated her.

"Bill's second chance to end the world," she said, getting to her feet. "You gave him his first chance when you built the portal in the first place, thirty years ago."

Wendy nodded. "Mabel's right, dude. If you're going to start throwing blame around for this whole mess, we might as well go right to the source."

Grunkle Ford had the decency to look ashamed and looked away. "Yes… well," he said. "Bill deceived me."

"That's right," Mabel said. "Bill deceived you and tricked you into building the portal. If anyone is to blame for any of this, it's Bill. Not you. And not Grunkle Stan!"

Grunkle Ford looked at her, startled. She didn't know if it was because of her words, her angry, indignant tone, or both, but she wasn't about to stop now. These thoughts had been weighing on her for too long, ever since Grunkle Ford had stepped out of the portal and punched Grunkle Stan in the face. She was too upset now to curb her tongue.

"You asked Grunkle Stan to come here thirty years ago, just so you could send him away with one of your journals. He came here hoping to reconnect with you, and you try to send him away, all because the journals are so dangerous. If they are so dangerous, why didn't you just destroy them? Why hide them? Why ask Stan to come here only to take one away? Didn't you miss him? Weren't you even a little glad to see him? He's your twin brother!"

Grunkle Ford paled. "Mabel..."

"Don't 'Mabel' me, Grunkle Ford," she said, hands on her hips. "And then, when you got sucked through the portal during your fight, you told Stan to do something! Well, he did! Even though you were a jerk-face to him, he spent thirty years doing everything in his power, trying to get you back! Doesn't that tell you something? Doesn't that mean anything to you? And when he finally does it, do you have one kind word for him?" Her chest heaved and tears stung her eyes. Grunkle Ford had sense enough to not interrupt her this time.

"My twin brother is in trouble," Mabel said, scrubbing her sweater sleeve against a tear that managed to slip down her cheek. "It's Bill's fault. It's Gideon's fault. But I don't care whose fault it is. I'm going to do everything I can to help Dipper and get him back to normal. I don't care if it takes thirty years!"

Abruptly, she sagged back down to sit on the gift shop steps, all her anger spent. She put her face into her hands. "But I… I don't know where to start," she said, her voice hoarse and weary.

Wendy put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Whatever it takes, I've got your back," she said, and Mabel looked up to give her a grateful smile.

Grunkle Ford cleared his throat. She looked at him, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. "I… I have a few ideas," he said. "I was on my way out the door to get a few things when Bill…" His voice failed him for a moment, and he took a deep breath, still not looking at her. "Anyway, I'll be gone for a few hours. I should be back before dark, and then we can look at our options."

Mabel felt a brief spark of relief. Grunkle Ford had ideas to help Dipper. And while he was a huge stupid-head when it came to people, he was super-smart when it came to science and magic. "Okay," she said, quietly. "Thanks, Grunkle Ford."

He nodded stiffly, still not looking at her. "I'm off then," he said, and headed into the tree line opposite where Bill had disappeared a while earlier.

When he was gone, Wendy shook her head, snorting. "Wow, Mabel. You really let him have it."

Mabel sighed, getting to her feet. "Yeah, well, I'm tired of both my Grunkles being grumpy and sad all the time. And they can't help Dipper if they are too busy being angry at each other over stupid—"

She broke off as a soft thump sounded from inside the gift shop.

She exchanged an alarmed glance with Wendy before running to the gift shop door and flinging it open, Wendy close on her heels.

"Dipper!" She cried his name as soon as she saw him crumpled on the floor. "You're awake!" She rushed to his side and knelt next to him. The tiny fawn blinked slowly, seeming unfocused, and Mabel realized that he was visibly trembling. "Oh, Dipper," she said, putting a gentle hand against his flank, and she looked at Wendy. "He's shaking! What's wrong? What—what do I do?"

Wendy's expression was a mask of calm. "Don't freak out," she said. "You take him into the TV room, and I'll go grab a blanket."

"Okay." Mabel hovered over Dipper a moment, feeling scared and uncertain, before gathering the small, shivering form into her arms.

His eyes widened as she lifted him, and he jerked, panicking, trying to wriggle out of her grip. "Dipper!" She tightened her embrace so she wouldn't drop him. "Dipper, it's me! Calm down, it's me, Mabel!" For a terrifying moment, she thought he didn't recognize her; that there might not be anything of her brother left in the fawn. But as she called to him, his struggling stilled.

Still trembling, he looked up at her. His eyes were deep, startling blue with a wide, thin line of black pupil. Mabel didn't know what to make of that – Dipper's eyes were brown, like hers – but before she could question it, the fawn closed his eyes and pressed his head against her, burrowing into her sweater.

"Aw, bro-bro," she said softly, her brows creased. A sad frown tugged at her mouth as she carried him into the TV room and sat down in Grunkle Stan's chair. Dipper looked up briefly as she situated him on her lap, helping him tuck his long, gangly legs beneath him, wincing a little when his sharp hooves caught on her skirt. Tremors still wracked his small body, and, after looking up at her again, he buried his head in the crook of her arm. Hiding.

Mabel couldn't quantify what she was feeling. On one hand, she was deeply scared for her brother, and on the other… oh gosh, he was just about the cutest thing she'd ever seen in her life. She felt caught between crying and squealing, and ended up doing neither. Instead, she stroked the baby-soft fur between Dipper's ears and smoothed the spotted reddish fur on his back. To her relief, he didn't protest, and his trembling started to ease. "It's gonna be okay, Dipper," she whispered. "We'll figure this out and get you back to normal right away. Grunkle Ford says he already has some ideas, and he's out getting some supplies, or something…"

She just wanted to squeeze him in a huge hug because he was so small and adorable, but she knew her brother well enough to know that if she did, she wouldn't be doing him any favors. He didn't like being called "cute" or "adorable" under normal circumstances. Now? Really not a good time.

Finally, his shaking stopped, and he lay in her lap, just breathing.

Wendy walked in with the blanket from Dipper's bed and brought it over to her. She took it and tucked it around and under Dipper like a nest, putting some padding between her legs and his sharp little hooves. "Thanks," she said.

Wendy looked at Dipper, who still had his head almost completely buried against her side. "How is he?" she asked.

Mabel shook her head. "I don't know. But he seems to recognize me, so that's good."

"Of course he recognizes you," Wendy said. She smiled, but it seemed a little forced. "You're his twin sister."

Mabel smiled, then stifled a gasp as Dipper raised his head and curved his long neck around to look at Wendy.

"Whoa, Dipper," Wendy said, as she knelt beside the chair, situating herself in front of the fawn. "You have blue eyes."

Dipper's nose was twitching at Wendy, and Mabel thought she would die from the cuteness of it. "I've never seen a blue-eyed deer before," Mabel said.

"Some fawns are born with blue eyes, just like some babies are," Wendy said, and Mabel felt relief from a worry she hadn't even realized she'd had until that moment – that the blue eyes were somehow a sign of something bad.

Dipper was still looking at Wendy, his nose still twitching, and Wendy laughed a little. "Dude, when you change back, you're gonna have to tell me what I smell like," she said, then shook her head. "Must be weird for you."

"Why?" Mabel asked, even though Wendy was talking to Dipper.

Wendy shrugged. "Deer have, like, a better sense of smell than even dogs."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Better even than bloodhounds." Wendy turned back to Dipper, a teasing smile on her face. "So you're gonna tell me what I smell like. And no lying because you think you might hurt my feelings."

Dipper didn't react, except to keep sniffing in Wendy's direction, and suddenly the knot of worry in Mabel's stomach seemed to turn icy cold.

Dipper didn't react to Wendy's teasing.

"Dipper?" she said, even as she saw Wendy's smile fading. "Dipper? Can… can you understand me?"

Wendy gave her a startled look. "What?"

"He's not responding to our words," Mabel said, anxiety seeping into her voice.

"Dipper," Wendy said, looking directly into his face. "You better not just be messing with us or ignoring us. Do you understand what we're saying? Nod for yes."

The fawn stopped sniffing, then laid his head on Mabel's lap, resting. Mabel licked her dry lips, and took a deep breath, trying to ease the choking sense of panic that was rising in her throat. "Dipper?" she said.

He simply blinked, looking sleepy.

"Wendy," she whispered, "he doesn't understand us." Her eyes stung, and she sniffed. She wouldn't cry. Not yet.

"Aw, dude." There was quiet horror in Wendy's voice.

"What if Dipper isn't in there?" she asked, unable to keep her voice from rising with her fear. Dipper's ears flicked her direction, but otherwise he didn't respond. "What if—what if there's nothing left of him? What if there's nothing left of my brother to change back to himself?"

Wendy reached out and grasped her shoulder in a comforting grip, Dipper lying peacefully in her lap between them. "Calm down, Mabel," she said. "It… it's too soon to be guessing on something like that. He's probably just in shock or something. Think about it. He just woke up a few minutes ago to find himself like this, and we found him shaking himself to pieces in the gift shop. He's probably just tired."

As if to confirm her words, Dipper's eyes slipped close.

"See?" Wendy said. "He's just all tuckered out."

Mabel forced herself to take a deep breath that did nothing to loosen the knot in her stomach. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, you're right."

"'Course I am." Wendy grinned again as she got to her feet, and if she was disturbed over any of this, Mabel couldn't tell. "Now, why don't we watch some mindless television while we wait for the guys to get back?"

Mabel found her hands once again petting Dipper's soft fur. The fawn didn't care. Dipper would have cared, and she couldn't help but wonder for a bleak moment if he was really Dipper at all. "Yeah," she said. "Mindless TV sounds good."

Dipper found himself in the attic bedroom. It was drained of color, and he knew he must be asleep.

He groaned and flopped backward onto his bed as all his memories from being awake flooded through his mind. From what Bill had told him, gloating and smirking, he knew it would be bad, but he hadn't understood just how bad it would be.

He hadn't recognized Mabel. When she picked him up in the gift shop, while he was still in so much pain from the effort of trying to read, he had panicked. He had looked right at her and hadn't recognized her, his own sister, his twin.

He only realized she was safe from her soft voice, and her overwhelming, familiar scent. A scent that was all Mabel - the tang of dyed yarn and glitter glue and scratch-and-sniff stickers. She smelled of wind and stuffed animal felt, of pancake syrup and Waddles. Her scent told him so much more than what his red-green color-blind eyes could show. As she carried him to the TV room, he could smell her relief, her happiness and her anxiety. And somehow he understood that being able to smell emotion almost to the point of tasting it was perfectly normal.

It had only taken one brief moment of trying to understand what Mabel was saying before the pain stabbed through him, and he immediately shied away from the effort.

Dipper groaned again and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Like the rat in the Skinner Box, the pain had conditioned him away from trying to think like a human… and he had let it happen.

When he had been awake, safe and settled in Mabel's lap, he hadn't cared. It didn't bother him that he didn't recognize Wendy until he sniffed at her. Or rather, it did bother him, but not enough to risk the pain that came from being anything more than a fawn. He was too weak to fight it.

"Too weak," he muttered to the empty room. "What am I going to do?"

How could he help in breaking this curse on him, when he couldn't even communicate with the people trying to help him? When he couldn't even think enough while awake to come up with a solution?

He was completely helpless. All he could do was hope that Grunkle Stan and Great Uncle Ford would find a way to fix this.

He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his mind turning in circles. But there was relief in this. As Bill had said, here in the mindscape, while he slept, he was himself. He was human. Complex thought wasn't choked out with the punishment of pain.

And then, he felt a tugging, right in his center. He sat up, and suddenly he could hear voices.

Grunkle Stan said, "We're back."

Soos said, "And we've got some stuff for Dipper."

He heard the voices, understood the words, and as the attic room started to fade around him, he realized he was waking up.

"No," he said, his voice cracking, even as the fog rose in his mind. "No, I'm not ready, I don't want to wake up yet, no—"

Mabel couldn't concentrate on the Ducktective re-run, even though it was one of her favorite episodes. The TV screen wasn't nearly as interesting as Dipper, even though he was asleep. Though his eyes were closed and his breathing soft and slow, his ears were up and alert and kept twitching toward the TV with every new voice or loud noise or piece of music.

It was so cute, she almost couldn't handle it. Almost.

That was how she guessed when Grunkle Stan and Soos were back, even before she heard them. Dipper's ears suddenly swiveled away from the TV and toward the back door. A few moments later and she heard the door open and Grunkle Stan and Soos walked in.

"We're back," Grunkle Stan said, as though it weren't obvious.

"And we've got some stuff for Dipper," Soos said, holding up a few shopping bags hanging from his fists.

Before she could ask what they had bought, Dipper stirred in her lap. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, and immediately his nose started twitching in Grunkle Stan's direction.

Grunkle Stan looked at Dipper, then shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes suddenly looking everywhere except the little fawn. "Oh, uh, you're awake. So… how's it going, kiddo?"

Wendy snorted from where she sat on the floor in front of the TV. "You know he can't talk, right?"

"Of—of course." Grunkle Stan, looking uncomfortable and irritated, crossed his arms. "Doesn't mean I can't say hi."

Mabel looked down at Dipper who, again, wasn't responding except to sniff at the newcomers. "I don't think he can understand us, either," she said, somehow managing to keep the quiver out of her voice.

"Really?" Grunkle Stan's eyes widened, and he unfolded his arms. He leaned over and gave Dipper a piercing look. "Hey, kid, when we get you back to normal, I'm gonna make you clean out the storage room from top to bottom and then do inventory."

Mabel hoped for some reaction from Dipper, but he had turned and was now sniffing in Soos' direction.

Grunkle Stan frowned. "I think you might be right," he said, straightening. "No way that wouldn't get a rise out of him."

"But…" Mabel bottom lip began to tremble, and she bit it until it stopped. "But what does that mean?"

"It don't mean nothing, kiddo," Grunkle Stan said. "Look, it ain't that surprising he can't understand us. You don't go through something like that—" He gestured at Dipper, who leaned out to sniff at his outstretched hand. "—without getting your brains a little scrambled. He'll be fine when we change him back."

Grunkle Stan's confidence was contagious, and Mabel found herself smiling a little. "Yeah," she said. "He'll be fine. Won't you, bro-bro?" She went to pet his head again, but as she did, he turned and nuzzled her hand. The timing was probably a coincidence, but she couldn't help beaming at the sign of affection. Then, to her surprise, his little pink tongue darted out and licked her fingers. She couldn't hold back her squeal of delight. "Oh my gosh, baby deer kisses!" She leaned over to snuggle him and gently wrapped her arms around long neck. "I love you too, bro!"

Now, regardless of her previous fears, she knew, just knew that, brain scrambled or not, Dipper was in there somewhere.

"So what's in the bags?" Wendy asked.

"Mostly food," Soos said, putting the bags on the floor. "Fawns can't drink regular cow milk, it makes them sick. So I got some powdered milk made specially for fawns from my aunt at the animal rescue center. And some bottles to feed him."

Grunkle Stan grunted. "Huh, just as well his brains are scrambled. Can't see him going for that at all. Knowing him, he'd probably starve himself first before letting himself be bottle fed."

"Like I'd ever let him do that to himself," Mabel said, knowing that Grunkle Stan was probably right. Un-scrambled Dipper would definitely put up a fight over that, even though it was silly. So while she certainly wasn't happy that, in his current state, Dipper couldn't communicate with them, the up-side was that she was going to get to bottle-feed a baby deer! Sheer cuteness overload! And Dipper wouldn't remember it. Probably.

"Well, if anyone could talk him into it, you could," Grunkle Stan said. "Now, where's that ungrateful brother of mine? I hate to admit it, but if anyone can figure out how to reverse this, he can."

"Oh man," Wendy said, leaning forward. "You missed a ton while you were gone." And she proceeded to fill in Grunkle Stan on the encounter with Bill, and how Ford was off finding stuff to help Dipper.

"Did you know about the rift?" Mabel asked. Grunkle Stan was scowling, but she couldn't tell if he was scowling about one particular part of the story, or if it was one all-encompassing scowl.

"No," Grunkle Stan growled, his fists clenched as if he was looking for someone to punch, and Mabel was suddenly glad that Grunkle Ford was off on his errand. "But I'm not surprised. Ford had better get back here soon, because I have a feeling we're gonna have some visitors trying to get to this stupid rift of his."

Mabel looked at him, eyes wide. "You think Bill and Gideon might attack the Shack? But what about the anti-Bill shield, and all our anti-vampire weapons?"

"It's not them I'm worried about, sweetie," Grunkle Stan said. "It's Gideon's prison thug squad."

"Oh." Mabel's throat felt tight, and she held Dipper a little closer, her arms encircling him protectively.

Wendy got to her feet, her hand at the axe looped through her belt. "Well, I was going to head home soon, but if you're expecting company, I think I'll stick around."

Grunkle Stan nodded at her, and they exchanged grim smiles. "Then I'm going to close up the gift shop. You go lock down the rest of the Shack."

"You got it," Wendy said.

Mabel smiled as Grunkle Stan and Wendy left to fortify the Shack. She had witnessed Stan punch a pterodactyl in the face, and fight his way through a zombie army. And just a few days ago, Wendy had done some serious damage to those jerky unicorns with her bare fists. With her axe in hand, she was a force to be reckoned with. Mabel definitely felt more secure knowing they were going to protect the Shack from regular human threats.

Grinning, she turned to Soos. "Soos," she said in her most authoritative voice. "Mix up a bottle. I have a brother to feed."

Soos straightened, one of the bags in his hand, and threw her a salute. "Aye aye, Mabel," he said, and marched off to the kitchen.

Gideon stared at Ghost Eyes – or rather, Bill in Ghost Eyes' body. He didn't like that his best prison buddy was currently serving as Bill's host, but Bill had assured him that Ghost Eyes was fine and would get his body back soon.

"So you're telling me," he said slowly, "that the Stanford Pines I've been dealing with this whole time was really his twin brother Stanley."

"That's right!" Bill said, pulling Ghost Eyes' mouth into an unnerving grin. "And now your henchmen and I are going to go capture Stanford while he's out scavenging for parts! While we're gone, you keep an eye on the Shack."

Gideon looked through the thick stand of pine trees toward the west where the sun was setting, far too slow for his liking, and clutched the handle of his shade umbrella. "Why do you need to capture Stanford? I thought you said he wouldn't hand over the rift even if his life depended on it."

"Oh, he won't," Bill said, yellow eyes glowing in the fading light. "But Stanley will."

Gideon looked at the demon with open skepticism. "How do you know that?"

Bill scoffed. "Oh, please! The guy spent thirty years repairing the portal just to bring his brother back! Stanley may act tough, but inside he's just a big sap. I dangle his precious twin in front of him, and he'll hand the rift right over!"

Gideon wasn't so sure about that. Stanford… er, Stanley was nothing if not crafty. "So why can't I go with you?"

"Because," Bill said, and though he still smiled, there was an edge to his voice that said he was tiring of questions. "You need to make sure that Stanley doesn't leave the Shack until we get back."

"Oh." Gideon swallowed, hating how just the change in Bill's tone and the ever-so-slight glare in his eye could make him want to hide. "Well, okay then."

Bill laughed. "Don't look so glum, Gideon! Look at it this way, I'm actually helping you fulfill your part of our deal! And once it's filled, well! We'll both be happy! I get my Weirdmageddon, and you get to be a general in my world-conquering army, with Shooting Star at your side!"

Yes, thought Gideon, watching as Bill led his prison pals deeper into the forest, leaving him behind. He shoved aside all his niggling doubts and uncertainty. If Bill's plan came to pass, then all of this - his vampirism, and finding himself playing second fiddle to a power-hungry demon - would be worth it.

The Mystery Shack was even better than Alejandra had imagined it. From the huge letters on the roof proclaiming it to be the MYSTERY HACK, with the S sitting on the lower roof, to the stained-glass windows, to the gift shop, to the fake totem pole, the place just screamed kitschy. Lit by the orange light of the setting sun, the whole structure seemed to glow in the twilight. She loved it.

The light was on in the gift shop, and she could see someone moving around inside, so, purpose firmly in mind, she strode up the steps to the door and knocked.

From the other side of the door, she heard a muffled curse, and heavy footsteps approaching. The door opened a crack, and she found herself facing an old man wearing a black suit and a… fez? Interesting fashion choice…

The old man looked her over, and frowned. "We're closed," he said shortly.

She just smiled. "Stanford Pines?"

The man's eyes narrowed. "Who's asking?" he said.

She refused to be put off by his open hostility. "My name's Alejandra Aspen. I'm looking for Dipper Pines. Susan at Greasy's Diner said he might be able to help me with an issue I'm having."

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than the man's expression went completely blank. "Sorry, can't help you," he said, and he would have shut the door in her face if she hadn't slipped her foot in the door jam.

He looked down at her foot, then back at her, scowling dangerously. "You need to move your foot right now," he said.

"I need to speak to Dipper Pines," she said, not moving her foot.

"If you weren't a lady, I'd punch you in the face."

"Well, I'm lucky I have that going for me then."

Whatever the man was about to say next was pre-empted when another man, much younger and more rotund, came in. "Do you want help closing the gift shop, Mr. Pines?" he asked.

"Hey," Alejandra said, waving at the new guy through the crack in the door. "Is Dipper Pines here?"

The old man said, "Don't answer that, Soos," while the other man said, "Yeah, he's just in the other room."

"Soos!" Mr. Pines shouted. Soos clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide, and Alejandra grinned.

"That's all I needed to know," she said. "It would have been nicer if you just let me talk to him, but since you won't, well, I have a job to do."

With that, she called upon the strength of her tree self and pushed the door open, sending Mr. Pines staggering back. "Excuse me," she said, striding through the door and heading to the room that this Soos had indicated.

Said man was looking at her with open dismay, arms spread to prevent her from passing. "Wait," he pleaded.

At the same time, she heard Mr. Pines say, "Oh, I don't think so," and in the next moment she found herself tackled roughly to the floor.

"Ugh, get off," she said, struggling to push herself to her feet with the old man's weight on her back, but before she knew it, he had her shoulders pinned to the floor and his knee pressing into the small of her back.

"Soos," Mr. Pines shouted, "get Wendy! She can punch this chick in the face for me!"

"Hey!" Alejandra had never been a situation quite like this before, but she was starting to come to the realization that it was spiraling rapidly out of her control.

"Chick or not," Mr. Pines growled, "nobody breaks into my house and tries to hurt my family."

"Look," Alejandra said, trying to be persuasive, but she feared that ship had sailed. "I just need to talk to the kid! I'm not gonna hurt him!" Mr. Pines ignored her, grabbed one of her wrists and wrenched her arm behind her back. "Ow! Knock it off!"

"Need help, Mr. Pines?" a new voice said.

"Wendy!" Mr. Pines said. "Punch her in the face for me!"

Alejandra looked up to see a tall red-headed girl frowning down at her. The girl, Wendy, was wearing green flannel and wielding an axe, of all things. "You have got to be kidding me," she said. "I just want to talk to Dipper Pines!" If she sounded a little desperate, she didn't care at this point. "Why am I pinned to the floor by a Shriners member and being threatened by a lumberjack?"

"Because you forced your way into my house, nimrod," Mr. Pines said, putting more pressure on her arm as she struggled.

This was bad. She was going to have to use her magic soon if she couldn't talk her way out of this, and these humans would get hurt. But before she could even try, a young girl appeared in the open doorway at the back of the gift shop, and, to her astonishment, the wide-eyed girl was holding an infant fawn in her arms.

But that wasn't what astonished her. What left her speechless was the dark, alien curse magic she could see surrounding the fawn like a black miasma. And, faint and transparent in the midst of that miasma, weirdly super-imposed over the fawn… was the soul of a human boy.

He was curled up in a fetal position, eyes closed. The black curse had him completely engulfed, and tethered inescapably to the little fawn body.

You will know him by his human spirit, Mother had said.

Gasping, she reached for him with her free arm, only to find her hand pinned to the floor by the lumberjack's boot. "No," she said, her gaze fixed on the fawn-that-was-not-a-fawn. "Stop! I'm here to help him! Mother sent me to find that boy! She can break his curse!"

"Wait, what?" Mr. Pines went still, but didn't loosen his grip. "Who are you?"

"You know how to break the curse?" the girl said, stepping forward, her expression open and eager. "How? What do we need to do?"

Finally, she had their attention, and not in a kill-the-intruder kind of way. "I'm Alejandra," she said, and, before she could have second thoughts, she let her human glamour fade, showing her smooth, white aspen bark skin.

"What the hell," Wendy said, startled, but she didn't move her boot.

Alejandra took a deep breath. "I'm a dryad. The Mother of the Wood sent me to Gravity Falls to find a twelve-year-old boy who needed our help. She said I would know him by his human spirit, and…" She struggled with the hand pinned by the lumberjack's boot and pointed at the fawn in the girl's arms. "That's him."

Mr. Pines growled low in his throat. "And how did this mother of yours know about him?"

"I don't know, she… she just knows things! For the longest time she said there was going to be a war between the humans and a one-eyed demon, but then a couple of days ago, she said that.. that the threads of destiny had been changed. And then she sent me here to find that boy so she could help him." Alejandra looked into the eyes of the girl holding the boy/fawn. "Please. She said time was of the essence. I need to take him to her."

"Where is she?" the girl asked.

"Mabel," Mr. Pines said, alarmed. "You can't seriously be thinking of trusting this crazy forest chick."

"Yes, I am," she said firmly. "Grunkle Stan, when the portal was opening, and Dipper was yelling at me to shut it down, I didn't, because my heart told me to trust you. And it was the right thing to do." She met Alejandra's gaze. "Well, right now, my heart is telling me to trust her, the same way it did back then. She can help Dipper. I know it."

There was a long moment of silence as the girl, Mabel, stared, fierce and determined at Mr. Pines.

Then Mr. Pines sighed. It was a defeated sound. "Aw, kid," he said. His voice had lost all its hostility, and Alejandra felt him let go of her arm, and the weight of his knee leave her back. A moment later, Wendy stepped back, letting her hand go free.

Alejandra got to her knees, then stood up. "Thank you," she said, turning to Mr. Pines, who had his arms folded across his chest. He had released her, but he still looked far from happy. "I'm, uh, sorry I made such a mess of things, pushing my way in here uninvited, but in my defense, when it happens in sitcoms, it usually works out."

"Sitcoms," Wendy said, arching an eyebrow at her.

Alejandra smiled sheepishly. "I have a pretty comprehensive DVD collection."

"How does a dryad watch DVDs in the forest?"

"Magic-powered DVD players," she answered.

Wendy stared at her a moment, then shrugged. "Sure," she said. "Why not?"

Mr. Pines went and knelt next to Mabel. "Sweetie… are you sure you want this chick to take Dipper off to see her hippy tree mom?"

Alejandra blinked as the pieces suddenly fell into place. Mabel. And the fawn was Dipper. Mabel and Dipper Pines. The Pines Twins.

"She's not taking him," Mabel said. "I am. She's just going to lead the way."

Alejandra lifted a hand in protest. "Um," she said, and Mabel turned and fixed her with a fierce glare. She swallowed. "…okay?"

Mr. Pines actually smiled. "That's a good plan, kiddo. I'll come too."

"Me too," said Wendy.

Alejandra cleared her throat uneasily. "Now, uh, see… it should be okay with Mabel here coming along, because she's his sister—"

"Twin sister," Mabel interrupted.

"Twin sister," Alejandra continued. "But there's no way I dare bring lumberjack-girl to the grove. You know… axes, tree spirits… not exactly simpatico."

"Right," Mr. Pines said. "Sorry, Wendy, you stay here."

"Aw, man!"

"Uh, Mr. Pines," Soos said, speaking up for the first time since she broke in. "What about Gideon's goons who are after… after you-know-what?" He glanced around nervously. "I mean, Wendy's awesome, but I don't know that we can defend the whole Shack by ourselves. No offense, Wendy."

"None taken," Wendy said, nonchalant.

Mr. Pines looked torn, anxiously looking between Soos and Mabel. Mabel stepped up to him and reached out with the hand not holding Dipper against her side, taking his hand in hers. "It'll be okay, Grunkle Stan. You stay here and guard the Shack. Dipper and I will be fine. I've got my anti-Bill bracelet, my anti-vampire arsenal, and I'll take the grapping hook and the crossbow."

Mr. Pines closed his eyes, his head bowed. "I don't want to lose either of you, kiddo. I… I couldn't bear it."

"You won't, Grunkle Stan. Just wait and see. Her mom will break Dipper's curse."

"Wish I had your faith, pumpkin," he said. He smiled wearily, releasing her hand and ruffling her hair. Mabel giggled.

Then, he turned abruptly and strode right up to Alejandra until he was almost nose to nose with her. She fought the urge to step back, and instead met his stare. "Alright, tree-chick," he said. "If any harm comes to either of my kids, I swear I will find your grove and bring a whole new meaning to deforestation. Capiche?"

"No need for threats, Mr. Pines," she said, proud that she kept her voice steady. "I'll keep them safe. I promise. They'll be back before you know it."

Mr. Pines just fixed her with the deadliest glare she had ever experienced, then turned and stomped out of the room.

Alejandra released the breath she didn't know she had been holding, and looked over at Mabel and the cursed boy in her arms.

Mabel grinned at her. "That went well!" she declared.

TBC

A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I wrote myself into a corner in one scene and I knew the only way to fix is was to rewrite the whole scene from scratch. Took me a while to figure out how to do it in a way that didn't completely suck.

I've outlined this whole story (plus a little bit of a possible sequel). Just fyi, in case anyone was worried that I didn't know where I was going with this.

A huge thank you to everyone who read and faved the last chapter – even bigger thank yous to those who reviewed! I appreciate it so much! :D

If you liked this chapter, please let me know. If you didn't like it, please let me know why. :) I'm always up for constructive criticism.