#toothwrites

Dipper wanted to argue, but one glance at her pale face and he held his tongue. He looked for the magazines, but found only kids’ toys and picture books.

“Huh,” Picking up a copy of Silly Billy’s Big Brain, he eyed the thick cardboard pages. “I never noticed how, uh, kiddy this place is.”

“You say that every time, dear.”

“Heh, I guess so. But seriously, am I supposed to, like, find another neurologist now, or-?”

“Oh, don’t ask her that, please.” She made a face. “As long as she keeps taking our bookings, I don’t care what her waiting room looks like.”

“I mean, I don’t care about her waiting room either, I just-”

“Just what?”

He hesitated. “Just… nothing.” He said, and then looked away. “It’s fine, Mom.”

And so they both sat, rigid and silent, until the sound of footsteps echoed from behind a door. Dipper looked up, and as he did his eyes did the thing again; he caught a glimpse of a nurse with a clipboard reaching for the door handle and--agh, shit, he squeezed his eyes closed before the pain spiked too bad.

eeeeeeeeeee…

“...Quicksilver?” A voice was saying. Hands on his shoulders--his mother’s hands.

“Yes, we’ll be just a second!” She softened her voice. “Are you alright? Did it happen again?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m…” He forced his eyes open, and smiled at her. “I’m fine. Just a small one, don’t worry.”

“Oh, my poor guy.” She cupped his cheek, then offered a hand. “Come on.”

The nurse looked exactly the same as he’d seen through the door. He gave a sympathetic smile. “This way, Mr Quicksilver.”

Measured, weighed, quizzed. The blood pressure sleeve slipped off his arm, and the nurse stepped back.

“Alright, I’ll let Dr. Deinolis know you’re ready for her. She’ll be with you soon.”

And then he was gone, leaving Dipper sitting on the exam table next to his mother. She grasped his hand.

“She’ll sort you out, dear.”

“Yeah,” Dipper felt the space where his necklace used to be. “Right.”

His mother pursed her lips; she looked away for a moment, at the friendly posters on the walls. Then she gave a sigh. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” She squeezed his hand. “I wish you’d-”

They were interrupted by a clop-clop-clop; someone stopped outside their door, and knocked a dun-dundun-dun-dun, dun dun!

“Is that Dipper?” said a bright voice. Dipper straightened; he nodded at first, and then he realised.

“Oh, uh, yeah!”

“Great! I’m coming on in!”

And with a crowfooted smile and stickers adorning her ID badge, in trotted Dr. Eirini Deinolis. A dun-coloured pony of a centaur, she still craned her neck to get through the door, her white coat stained with crayon smudges and scrunched up where her back met her withers.

Dipper didn’t remember the first time he’d met Dr. Eirini; her presence, like his Mom and Dad, had always been a constant. She’d seen him first when he was three months old and deathly sick; it was her who figured out a suspected glioblastoma was in fact a mysterious yet eminently manageable case of magical sensitivity. Figuring out the source of this sensitivity had eluded their checkups since then… but hey, if it hadn’t been for her, he may well have been done in by something as dumb as their old magi-light dimmers.

These yearly visits, they’d long ago started feeling… almost familial, like seeing a kindly aunt who sent you birthday cards and told you how big you’d grown. Or at least that was how he thought those things went; like the peninsula they lived on, the Quicksilvers were a shard of a family, a remnant of something larger. Dipper’s Dad was estranged, and his Mom’s parents, along with her sister, died tragically young--some kind of carbon monoxide leak in the crematory, but she never went into detail.

“Hey, Dipper!”

So maybe that was why, despite everything…

“It’s so good to see ya! How’ve you been? Wow, I can’t get over how tall you’ve gotten--like a bean pole, eh, Eva?”

…he felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. As he watched his mother give her a hug that lasted just a moment too long, he wondered if she’d been craving some normalcy, too.

“Ah, it’s good to see you both!” With a pat on the back, Dr. Eirini let her go and clopped over to the desk. “Alright, to business! Let me get my notes pulled up… ah, I noticed you guys moved our appointment up. Something’s changed since last year?”

Dipper couldn’t help but snort--god, what hadn’t? He could see her eyebrow quirk up.

“I see,” she said, her gaze straying lower. “You’re not wearing your necklace.”

His Mom huffed. “Yes, it got broken a few weeks ago. You’ll have to pry the details out of him.”

He felt his cheeks starting to burn, but the doctor didn’t press.

“Aww, that’s a shame! I’ve been fascinated by how well that charm worked; it’s made me pick up glassmaking myself!”

“Really?” He perked up. “Can you-”

“Oh, no, no, I’m still a total amateur. Whatever your sister is doing, it’s far beyond me; I just wish I could understand the mechanism!” Then, with a glance to his Mom: “Did you tell her I wanted to…?”

“It’s not a good time.” she said, flatly. Dr. Eirini’s smile faltered for a moment, and then she carried on.

“Oh, okay! No worries--we’ve managed things without your necklace, we can do it again!” Pulling up her tablet, she started typing away. “We were having some success with lithium before. I could book a blood test to get you started back on that--same clinic in town, right?”

“That’s right!” said his Mom.

“Great!” And she turned to Dipper. “That sound good with you?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, that’s… fine.” He rubbed his neck. “Just, didn’t that take months to work last time? I don’t want to have to do all that just to have to start stepping down again when Mal finishes the necklace.”

“That’s a fair question. When do you think she’ll finish it?” When he shrugged, she shrugged back. “Then that’s harder for me to answer, really. You could hold out for her to finish if you think it’ll be soon, but in my opinion, it’s not a standardised treatment. The last necklace worked great, but if we don’t know how it worked, there’s no guarantee the replacement is going to be just as effective.”

Dipper grimaced. “Oh. That’s a fun thought.”

“I’m not saying it won’t, it could be great! I just think if that did happen, you might be happy to have gotten the ball rolling on this a little earlier.” A little grin. “Better safe than sorry, right? But of course, it’s your choice.”

His mother gave a gentle squeeze, and he sighed. “Yeah… yeah, that makes sense. Better safe than sorry.”

“It’s always your choice!” She typed a little longer, then turned that sunny smile to his Mom. “Alright, Eva, I just have a few more questions before I wrap up. You alright waiting in the lobby?”

His Mom blinked. “Oh! Uh, okay.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just policy. They want to make sure the university students are being honest, right?”

“Hah! Don’t I wish.” She looked to Dipper. “Okay, sweetie, I’ll be outside. Love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

And she gave a sad sort of smile at that, before she turned and headed outside. Now it felt much more like a doctor’s visit; Dr. Eirini kept typing for a moment, and Dipper straightened, smoothed the creases in his jeans, tried to think of what she was going to ask.

It was obvious, wasn’t it? And yet, when she set aside the tablet, leaned forwards, and asked in a kindly voice, “You doing alright?”--well, all the words in the world seemed to dry up on his tongue.

“Um, hah, uh…” He tried for a little laugh and a shrug, but she didn’t let him off. “You mean, like, medically? The lithium sounds good, uh… that sounds good, yeah.”

She just nodded. The silence stretched; shifting in his seat, Dipper tried to fill it.

“And, uh… yeah, it’s been a weird time, weird time. But I should be fine! Get this headache thing sorted again, and everything should go back to normal--as much as it can, anyway. Just, heh, have to hold out for that, right.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” She tilted her head. “This ‘weird time?’”

“Well… well, what’s there to talk about?” A pause, a laugh. “Uh, I guess. I guess you want to know what happened to the necklace.”

“You can tell me that.”

“Yeah, that was, that was a couple weeks ago. I-I was out with…” he made a face. “Some friends. In the forest, we just were messing around, I tripped, and–yeah.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is that when you got suspended as well?”

Dipper’s head shot up. “What? When did you-”

“It’s alright, your mother told me a bit about that on the phone.” Her face creased into a sad smile. “I read about it on the papers as well… and what happened more recently.”

“Oh.” His heart felt like a rock; of course she knew. “You mean Gemma.”

“It’s awful news, truly awful. It seems like you’ve had a really hard time lately, Dipper; I just want to check that you have someone to talk about it with. Your parents? Your sister?”

He let out a snort, and immediately regretted it. “Uh, hah, sorry, that’s, I didn’t mean it like that.” A grimace. “Mal’s… I knew Gemma, yeah, but she was Mal’s best friend.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, I-I’ve barely seen her since the news broke.”

Dr. Eirini gave a sympathetic nod, and then pressed on. “So you don’t have anybody at home to talk to? How about your friends?”

“Um, yeah, sure, I got… a friend.”

“A friend.” She typed something on her computer as his stomach twisted into knots. “I don’t mean to pry, it just seems like there’s a lot on your shoulders right now. I’m worried about you.”

“Oh–No, no, I’m fine!”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Okay. But I’m going to write down some counselors in your local area. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it’s good to have them on hand if you feel like you want to talk to someone, yeah?”

Dipper sank down in his chair. “Okay,” he managed, then: “Sorry.”

“Oh, no, don’t be sorry. What are you saying sorry for?”

“I don’t know, uh… everything?” He rubbed his neck as she wrote something out. “It feels like I’m making everyone worried about me lately, I-I don’t know how to stop that.”

“Hmm,” she held up a slip of paper. “I have a suggestion.”

“Hah, uh, right.” Cheeks blushing, he stood and took it from her. “I’ll… I’ll think about it. Thanks, Dr. Eirini.”

“Of course.” She rose to her four feet, and smiled down at him. “Well, as always, it’s been a pleasure to see you, Dipper. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about before we go?”

“I don’t think so,” came automatically, but as his mind caught up, he wondered: those visions of within Gemma’s house. How did he do that? Was that related to his condition? They certainly felt like they were, but–

“Are you sure?”

He glanced back at her, and his stomach tightened. No, no, that wasn’t– it was more than just a magical headache, it was like… it was like magic. His fingers tightened on the paper; she’d write it down, she’d send him off to someone else and who knows what they’d think of it? If the police thought he’d seen too much of the crime scene– no, no, no.

“Dipper?”

Her head was tilted now, and he rushed to reassure her. “No! Just thinking, but, yeah, no! Nice to see you too!”

“Okay. As long as you’re sure.”

“Yep!” And he slipped towards the door. “Alright, uh, good talk! Bye!”

“Take care, Dipper.”

Her words echoed as he walked down the hall, his ears ringing. Take care–if only he could. But no, he was in too deep, now.

“Mallory, please, can you just calm down for a second?”

“I’m calm! I’m soooo calm, you’re the one who-”

Dipper cut in. “Ha-hang on,” he stammered, gesturing at Marsh’s car. “Marsh is here already? Where is she?”

Something flickered in Mal’s eyes. “Uh…” she started, then cleared her throat. “Oh, she went on ahead. Got sick of waiting for you, I guess.”

“She-! and you didn’t go with her?!”

“I was waiting for you!”

“What? You could’ve texted me! What if she gets into trouble in there?”

“Oh my god, you’re just as bad as Mom. She’s fine.”

“You don’t know that!” Dipper gazed into the forest, at the shady path ahead that disappeared behind the beckoning trees. “We need to go after her.”

“Wh…” Behind them, their Mom frowned. “You seem really concerned about this, sweetie. What’s going on in the forest?”

“Nothing,” Mal rolled her eyes. “He’s just being paranoid. Wonder where he gets that from.”

Dipper made a face. “It’s… I-I don’t know, it could be nothing. But… we think there might be some clues in there about who-” He glanced at Mal, who arched an eyebrow. “Uh, about who killed Gemma.”

Their Mom just stared for a moment. Her eyes slowly lifted to the forest. “Just so I understand,” she said, quietly, carefully. “what you’re saying, sweetie, is there’s a chance she’ll encounter a murderer in that forest.”

“I don’t-” Dipper started, and then sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know, it’s hard to say.”

“Okay.” Slowly, she turned that iron stare onto Mal, and even she wilted under it. “So. You were also aware of this, I assume.”

“I-”

“And you let her do what?”

“Wh-, I-!” Mal stammered over her words. “Marsh wanted to go on ahead, that’s not my fault! What was I supposed to do?”

“You tell her no! I mean, for star’s stake, Mallory, show a little backbone! I never thought you'd be the one I'd need to say that too!”

“Yeah!” Dipper said, then blinked. “Wait, what?”

“It's not my-”

“Don't. Please, don't try that with me right now.” Their Mom rubbed her forehead. “Mallory, I love you so much, but I have to say, I am getting sick and tired of hearing that from you lately! Nothing's your fault, nothing’s ever your fault!”

“I never said that! Tell me when I ever said ‘nothing's ever my fault’, that's ridiculous!”

“You-!” She stopped, pursed her lips. “Okay. Okay, Mallory.”

Then she turned back to her car. Mal, fists clenched, face flushed, followed her.

“Okay what? Are you gonna apologise?”

“Yes, I'm sorry. Now can we put this behind us for now?” Their Mom opened the trunk. “We've got to get that poor girl out of the forest. Here, take this.”

Then she tossed something Mal’s way. Dipper came closer, and she handed one to him as well… some sort of bracelet? He wasn’t sure what to make of it; the chain was fine and silvery, but the pendant was a spud of little white flowers wound together with twine in a tight pattern. It was oddly clashing, and it’d have looked amateurish if it wasn’t so well constructed.

Dipper glanced towards Mal, and he could see the question in her eyes. “Is this a charm?” She said, and Dipper could see their Mom hesitate. “Did you make this?”

“It’s just a bit of wild garlic and silver.” She said, vaguely. “I heard it was a vampire on the news–anyway, are we ready?”

Mal opened her mouth… then seemed to think better of it. “Yeah, uh, actually, before we go, I-I got something as well.” Digging in her pocket, she drew out a blue glass charm with a loop of red ribbon, paused, and thrust it out to Dipper. “Here.”

His eyes went wide. “Is that–wait, is that my magic blocker necklace? You finally made another one?”

“What do you mean, finally?”

“Uh-” A quick glance up at Mal. “I mean, oh my god, thank you so much, you’re the best! This is amazing, I’ve been so sick of these headaches!”

With a big grin on his face, he snatched it up and looped it around his neck. Before he’d even tied the knot, he felt his headache start to spike.

eeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE–pop!

Dipper blinked, shook his head as the pain faded. When he looked down… the glass charm had shattered into glittering pieces on his shirt.

He didn’t even have time to be disappointed.

“Oh, for fuck’s-!” Mal threw up her hands. “Great. Great! You broke it, genius! Why not? Everything’s going so well today, huh!”

“I didn’t do anything! I-I just put it on.”

Their Mom frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie, that’s really disappointing.”

“Disappointing to him?! What about me? I worked on that stupid thing for-” She cut herself off. “Ugh, whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

“Mal?”

“I said, whatever! Are we going into the forest or not?”

“Hmph.” Their Mom took a second to nod. “You’re right. Come on; let’s stick together, you two.”

And she began to lead them into the forest, glancing back every few steps. Dipper didn’t think Mal would follow at first, but she kept pace with him, her arms crossed, her head firmly turned away. His hand brushed the red ribbon, and he sighed.

“Hey,” he started. “Thanks for… I really appreciate you tried to make another one. I know it’s not easy.”

She didn’t respond. He paused, and tried again.

“It, uh… it took you a few tries on the last one, right? I’m sure you’ll get it!”

He tried to reach out a hand, but she sped up to avoid him. Dipper sighed… then, looking at the trees closing in, tried to put it out of mind. That wasn’t important right now; he had to keep an eye out for Marsh. She was probably just at the cabin, but… well, you never know.

Mal, though, hadn’t got the message. She fell into step with their Mom, and shot her a Look. For a little while their Mom politely ignored the daggers being thrown her way… but then she let out a groan.

“Okay, Mallory, what’s wrong now?”

“Oh, nothing,” and as soon as their Mom met her gaze she was aloof, staring off into the trees. “Just, uh… just wondering–just thinking, you know? Just thinking about what I heard earlier, ah, something about a book?”

“A book?”

“Yeah! You and Dipper were on about some kind of book.” Their Mom didn’t react, but Mal caught Dipper’s flinch. “Yeah, look, he’s heard about it! What’s going on, huh?”

She took a moment to reply, “Mallory,” she started carefully, glancing around the forest. “I can tell you later, but I really don’t think this is the time. We have to find your friend; aren’t you worried about her?”

“Oh my gooood, she’s fine! You think we’re actually stupid enough to walk into a forest with a murderer?” Mal glanced back at Dipper with a strange smirk. “Actually, scratch that. But hey, you’re obviously not that worried if you’re letting us tail along.”

“Of course I’m-!” Dipper saw her hands clench, then struggle to straighten out. “I’m very worried right now, Mallory, and I’m trying to concentrate! I don’t want you kids playing detective with an actual murderer! I just also know that if I told you to stay in the parking lot, you’d go right in after me. I’ve been your mother for almost twenty years now, Mallory, I know how this works.”

“Wh- why are you singling me out?!”

Dipper rubbed his forehead. “Guys, guys, can we please not fight the whole way to the cabin? Look, Mal’s right, we both planned it; it’s not fair to put it on her.”

“Thank you, Dipper.” Mal raised her eyebrows at her Mom. “See, he agrees with me!”

“Well-”

“I’m not the one starting anything, I’m just asking questions. Like, what about this book, huh?” She looked back at Dipper. “How about you, bro? Are you gonna tell me anything?”

“I… uh…”

“Mallory!” Their Mom snapped. “I promise you, I will tell you later! I don’t-” Her voice seemed to lower by instinct. “I don’t want to talk about it in public.”

But that was a mistake; Dipper could see how Mal immediately switched from grumpy pot-stirring to genuine interest. “In public, what?” She gave a little chuckle that faded out as their Mom didn’t meet her eyes. “Wait, what’s… is something going on? Is Dad okay?”

“Wh- no, it’s nothing to do with… your father’s fine.”

“Then, I-I don’t understand what you’re talking about. You’re actually keeping something from me?”

You could cut the tension with a knife; Dipper glanced between the two of them, then all around the looming forest. He made a face.

“Well,” he mumbled. “Seems like this is your private moment.”

Their Mom slowed to a stop. Mal didn’t even make a snarky comment as she seemed to collect her thoughts, take a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh.

“I wanted this to be a little more planned out,” she said. “Your father and I–this doesn’t change anything, okay? We both love you so much, and we only want the best for-”

“You’re getting divorced?!”

“Wh- no, Mallory! Of course not!”

“Okay, okay, jeez!” She scowled at Dipper’s muffled snort. “Hey, I’m not the crazy one here, what the hell was I supposed to take from ‘your father and I still love you?’ Fuuck, Mom, don’t scare me like that!”

“Oh, my stars.” Their Mom pinched her forehead. “This went so much better in the car… Look, Mallory, we used to… a long time ago, we were in… you have to understand-”

“And now you’re sounding like you used to be in a cult or something.” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Mom, you gotta work on your messaging.”

It took a moment. Mallory looked from her mother’s stricken face to Dipper’s nervous smile, and the penny finally dropped.

“No way,” she breathed, and watched her Mom give a timid nod. “Wh- no way, no–you’re joking. You’re joking!”

“No. We used to… we used to be in the Circle. But it was a long-”

“The Circle?!” She backed up, stumbling over a twig. “Wh- Alcor? No way, no way, no way!”

“Mallory-”

“I don’t- you can’t- I would’ve known this, I would’ve known this!” Then she froze, her eyes going wide. “The book. That’s why you had a-”

Then she cut herself off–but it was too late. She glanced up at her mother’s shocked face, and tried for a shaky smile.

“I-I mean,” and the blood was draining from her face; her hands were wringing together. “I-I just meant-”

“You knew about the book?” Their mom glanced at Dipper. “Did you tell her?”

“No! I didn’t, I had no idea until last night.” He blinked at Mallory. “How long have you known?”

Mallory was backed up against a tree; she could only shrug. “I- I don’t–why are you guys acting like I knew? I’m just, I’m just finding out now! You had a what?”

“Mallory, come on.”

“I’m serious, guys! I had no idea, I…” One look at their faces, and she grimaced, put up her hands, and changed tack. “Okay, fine! I-I did see it once. It was back when I was a stupid teenager, I dug through your guys’ stuff one day, and, yeah. But I didn’t think anything of it.”

“You didn’t think anything of it?” Dipper raised an eyebrow. “You found an illegal demonology book, and you were just like… okay? No follow up questions?”

“Well-”

“It hadn’t been moved at all,” their Mom breathed. “You put it back exactly where we left it.”

“Yeah, that’s- you know what I was like as a teenager, I liked getting away with stuff.” Her smile strained. “I-I knew it was a big deal, that’s why I put it back where I found it! Then I… I just kind of forgot about it, I guess.”

“Forgot about it?”

“Yeah, I-I… look, it doesn’t matter right now!” She sidled away from the tree and started down the path again. “We gotta find Marsh, guys! Isn’t that what we came here for?”

Dipper blinked; he exchanged a wide-eyed look with his Mom, then rushed to catch up. “Hey, Mal, wait, you wanted to talk about this!”

“Yeah, well, we’re nearly at the cabin, so-”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the-”

“I don’t know, Dipper, I don’t know!” She rounded on him. “Maybe I’m better at leaving shit alone. Maybe I’m stupid and I couldn’t put two and two together; I mean you just needed one night to realise Mom and Dad are secret demon summoners, it’s sooo obvious! I’m sorry I’m not as smart as you!”

“I didn’t say you were…” Dipper hesitated, took a deep breath, and pressed on. “Why do you always act like I-I’m calling you stupid? I didn’t say that, Mal, I’ve never said that! I’m trying to see if you’re okay!”

“Ohhh, Mr Thoughtful.”

“I mean, it was really shocking to me, too, can’t we talk about it?” He slowed as she kept walking. “Why can’t we just talk anymore, Mal? Why can’t you just stop for once and actually talk to me like a real person!”

And Mal stopped, dead. Dipper could feel his heart beating in his throat as she stood there, his words echoing too loud, too real. He didn’t know when it’d started, but talking to her… somewhere along the way it’d become like walking in a minefield, nodding along and smiling and pretending he wasn’t always, always looking out for the next bomb to trip up on.

That wasn’t the way he wanted it to be. He used to love talking to her, he used to love… He didn’t know if they could go back to how things were before.

He wanted to, he wanted to so bad, but she was turning around now, and he was terrified he was about to get that answer.

Dipper looked at his sister. She tried to look back, tried to stare him down defiantly, but it was her gaze, for once, that slid to his shoes.

The forest was silent as she took a breath.

“Dipper-”

But she couldn’t finish. A flinch, and she turned her head to the side.

It was the only thing that fit the evidence. Lucy Ann killed Gemma, and… and tomorrow, they were going to see what all these codes had been pointing towards.

A scowl. Tomorrow, he thought, and tried to close his eyes; in no time at all, they were staring up at the ceiling again. And his pillow was too warm, and he was sweating under his covers but cold when he pushed them off–agh, fine! Fine, he was up!

Maybe he’d get a water or something.

Casting a glare at the stars outside his window, he felt his way to the door, creaked down the hallway, and started downstairs.

He didn’t get far before he paused. A sound downstairs: some kind of rustling? At first he thought it was coming from the funeral home… but no, definitely from the living room.

As it kept going, his grip tightened on the railing. It could be Mal, and man, was it mean that every fibre of his being suddenly wanted to go back to bed? Come on, Dipper, don’t be like that. She’s having a hard time, she needs you.

She needs you.

…

But his feet just didn’t move. The harder he tried, the more frozen he felt. The more he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, faster and harder until with a sigh, he gave up on it. Fine, he thought, taking a step back up. He’d just-

The person downstairs cleared their throat, and that was not Mal. Dipper blinked; curious now, it was suddenly all too easy to rush downstairs, throw open the door, and find-

“Oh!” Dipper gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Dad! Didn’t mean to surprise you, I was just like, who’s downstairs right now? But it’s just you, haha.”

And he did feel bad; his Dad, kitted out in his nightgown and sleeping cap on the sofa, had jolted half-up and dropped a book with a thump on the carpet.

“Uh, sorry. Again.” He saw his Dad struggling to reach down, and moved forwards. “I can-”

“Don’t!” He held an arm out. “Dondundundun- I- don’t, don’t! Don’t!”

“Oh, uh, okay? You sure you don’t want-”

“Don’t! Don’t, I- don’t! Don’t!”

He was more animated than Dipper had seen in a while, waving him off with big jerky swings of his arms. Dipper certainly got the message.

“Whoa, no worries, Dad, it’s fine!” He pointed to the kitchen. “I’m just, uh, going to get some water. Do you want some?”

He shook his head and kept reaching for the book. Dipper lingered for a moment longer, guilt needling as he watched his Dad struggle to lift it, then crossed into the kitchen. The oven read 4am in glowing red letters; it was off by a couple hours–he forgot how many–but it was definitely very late.

“I didn’t think you’d be up!” He called into the living room as he got a glass down. “I, uh, I couldn’t sleep, hah. Is that the same for you?”

He got a grunt in reply. Filling up his glass, Dipper wondered whether to ask again; his Mom and Mal, it felt like they could ‘read’ him so much better than Dipper–another pang, because of course they could, they’d been the ones actually looking after him, while he’d been off… well, these days it wasn’t even clear what he’d been doing. Not making friends, that’s for sure.

“Uh, yeah, great,” he continued. “That’s… yeah. Great. Did you want-? Oh, right, you’d said no.”

Water in hand, Dipper made his way back to the living room. His Dad was scraping papers into a binder; must be some funeral home stuff he was trying to work on.

“You don’t have to stop.” He pointed upstairs. “I was gonna go back to my room, or… I could help if you needed? What do you-”

“Done! All done, all done.” His Dad stood up abruptly, the binder clasped to his chest. He limped his way past Dipper with a, “All done, all, all done, and all done. All done, all…”

And then he was gone; Dipper could hear the handle going for a bit before the door creaked open and slammed shut.

“Alright,” he muttered to himself. “Nice to see you, too, Dad. Good… good talk.”

Man, he should make more of an effort. Months, and it was still… he wasn’t used to this version of his Dad. It used to be, you couldn’t be in the same room as Ronald Quicksilver without hearing his opinion on anything and everything that came up; sometimes he did his homework in the living room so his Dad would walk over and backseat-drive him into all the right answers. But not when he was learning to drive–no, the backseating got a lot more literal and a lot less wanted there.

The memory made him chuckle, but it quickly tapered into a sigh. He seemed happy enough with Mom and Mal, but Dipper could see it every time a customer looked him over… no, be honest. He got that look, too, that moment when he just didn’t get what his Dad was saying, and his Dad… his Dad stopped trying. And once he got his necklace fixed, he was just gonna go right back to college, right back to talking with his Mom on the phone and hearing how Dad’s doing, what Dad’s doing.

Was that how it was gonna be now? No. No, he wanted to talk to his Dad again!

Standing there with a glass of water warming in his hand, Dipper resolved that he was gonna do better on this… as soon as he’d gotten to the bottom of who killed Gemma, and how to make Mal feel better. Oh, and what was going on with Lucy Ann, and also getting his medication sorted and getting back on track with his classes, and–look, it was a priority! It was just that a lot of things were priorities right now.

A yawn was building in his throat–speaking of priorities.

As he turned to leave, though, something caught his eye. At first he thought it was something shiny under the couch, but when he glanced back, he realised it was more of a glow, something–and his stomach twisted–not quite of this reality. It was like the shapes he saw when he pulled up at Gemma’s house, when he saw through the walls to find-

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…

With a shudder, Dipper pulled his thoughts back. Setting his water down on the counter, he kneeled down, hesitated, and then stuck a hand into the darkness. It didn’t take him long to feel something hard and square and leathery–a book? Was this the one his Dad had dropped, and… not picked up, but shoved under the couch for some reason? Why’d he do that?

Frowning, he drew it out. It was a heavy thing, definitely closer to a textbook than anything else, and it shed pages and post-its as he lifted it into his lap. Its spine was broken at a page near the middle; he turned to it and saw-

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Dipper had to physically cover his eyes, because oh my god that was Alcor’s summoning circle oh my god what kind of book is this? Only once his head had stopped buzzing and his knees had managed to slam the book closed did he dare to look again; his shaking hands traced the edges of uneven, yellowed pages, and then flipped the whole thing back to the cover. The title was dulled with age and hard to read, but he caught a bit of moonlight, and there he saw, as damning as a bloody dagger:

 AN INTRODUCTION TO DEMONOLOGY

Dipper’s heart jumped into his throat. His first instinct was to shove this thing right off his lap–what on earth was a demonology textbook doing in his house? This was… the level of illegal this thing was, his head was spinning to think of it. Mom and Dad weren’t demonologists, and neither was Mal, so-

…So why was his Dad reading it? At first Dipper had the desperate thought that he’d dropped some other, unrelated book, and this amazingly illegal little bombshell had just been left here by somebody else, some other time. But if the lack of dust didn’t kill that theory dead, the notes finished it off; his head swam as he gathered them up and read his Dad’s shaky handwriting: FOREST SPOT? RCH OUT OLD CNCTS SEE WHT WKS NOW, Y NO ANSR

Dipper didn’t realise how hard he was breathing until his head started to spin; with shaking hands, he just shoved all the notes inside until he couldn’t see them anymore. What the hell was going on? What was he supposed to do about this? Did Mom know? What was he gonna-

Creak.

Just the slightest sound made him freeze, stock still, hardly daring to breathe. Sitting out in the open, with this book on his lap… when the noise didn’t repeat, he raced to stuff the thing into his shirt and jump to his feet. He peeked into the stairway, and when his Dad was nowhere to be seen, he dashed upstairs as fast as he dared, back down the hall, back to his room.

Dipper didn’t sleep well that night.

________________________________________________________________

“Mom, no.”

“Come on, Mallory! Let’s have a nice family breakfast!”

“No, we’ve got, Dipper and I have somewhere to be, don’t we, Dipper? Dipper?”

For once, Mal’s gaze wasn’t the most piercing thing in the room. Dipper didn’t even register her voice until he got a shove on the shoulder.

“Huh? What?”

“We’re going to Marsh’s, remember?” She spoke through gritted teeth, then spun around at the sound of crackling bacon. “Wha- Mom! I just told you-”

“Don’t be like that, sweetie! If you’ve got a big day ahead, you need a big breakfast!”

“Wh-!”

“Help me set the table, won’t you, Mallory?”

“I-”

“Please just set the table.”

And maybe it was opposites day, or maybe Mallory could sense the same strangeness in the air that Dipper did, because he heard a great huff… and then the opening and slamming closed of cabinets. Forks and knives and spoons and plates started appearing in front of him, and in front of the figure sitting at the end of the table.

Ronald Quicksilver was sitting still and straight, his good hand tapping on the table, his eyes trained unmoving and unblinking on Dipper. Dipper couldn’t see what expression he had on, because he didn’t dare to look; he just sat with his phone out, the screen black, staring at his reflection and waiting for the moment he could run out the door and never look back.

Stars, it was such a stupid move to take that textbook. Of course his Dad would come back for it, of course! And now what? Were they gonna talk about it? ‘Hey, Dad, couldn’t help but notice you’re trying to summon a demon, is that a new hobby?’

Just the thought made him cringe into his seat. Last night he’d been wanting to talk to his Dad more–he must’ve been touching a monkey’s paw. What a mess. What an absolute-

“Breakfast,” Mal dropped a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him, then lowered her voice. “Let’s eat fast, yeah? We’re wasting daylight.”

Then she served their Dad, set her plate down, and started inhaling her toast with the speed (and table manners) of a teenager in a growth spurt. Their Mom gave her an odd look as she sat down.

“You two are certainly in a hurry today.” A pause; she and their Dad exchanged a glance, and then she smiled over at Dipper. “What’s, what’s the rush, sweetie? What are we up to?”

And now both their eyes were on him. “Um-” he started, but Mal cut in.

“Going to Marsh’s, she’s a great friend, yadda yadda, let’s go.”

Then she stood up, and swift-walked her plate to the sink before her Mom could stop her.

“Wh- Mal, honey, you can’t be done-”

“Can and am.”

“You don’t want to have breakfast with us?” Her eyes softened. “It’s been a while since we’ve all sat down together. I feel like I’ve barely seen you since Gemma-”

“Cool cool cool–Dipper, buddy, how long does it take to eat an egg? Are you waiting for those things to hatch?”

“Hatch? They’re fried.”

“Hatch, gestate- whatever, stupid joke, it doesn’t-” She jerked her head to the side. “Shut-! Nevermind. Look, I’ll be outside!”

Dipper had a horrible realisation that he was about to be left alone with his parents. “W-wait,” he jumped up, shoving bacon into his mouth. “Wai’ f’r ‘e!”

And he dashed out of the door after her. Their Mom was quick to follow.

“Hey, what’s the big rush? What’s gotten into you two?”

Dipper slowed down; Mal forged ahead. “Just… friends! Going to see that same friend we did a week ago, uh, Marsh.” He tried for a grin. “We’ll be back soon.”

“It can’t wait for after breakfast? I was hoping we could have a little talk.”

A talk; he caught the tension in that. “Sorry, Mom, just-” He said; his eyes skipped over to Mal. “She’s really excited to go, and it’s… good for her, you know? Get her out of the house. Maybe later?”

“Oh, definitely, I’m glad she’s…” A pause. “Does she… has she talked to you about it, or…?”

“Not really.”

A sigh. “I thought so. Oh, poor Gemma–poor Mallory. It’s got to be so-”

“Hey, Dipper!” Mal shouted from the hearse. “Are you gonna stand there gossiping with Mom about me or are you coming with?”

Then she started the engine with a roar, and tore past them out of the parking lot. Their Mom blinked.

“She left without you!”

“No, we just take two cars everywhere now, apparently.” To her look, he could only offer a shrug. “She says she’s got a pickup in town?”

“That's not on my calendar. We really shouldn't be using the hearse just to go to lunch–it costs a fortune in gas.”

“Yeah, well…” A nervous laugh. “You can tell her that.”

“Hah. You’re… I’ll talk to her later.” His Mom hesitated for a moment, her hands clasped to her chest. “Dipper?”

Dipper knew what was coming; for a split second he thought about driving off as well, putting this off until some other time… but he was already stopping, already looking back. “Yeah?”

“I was just, um… funny story, I was talking to your father this morning, um…” A pause; now it was her who struggled to meet his eyes. “He said you were up pretty late. Are you sleeping alright, sweetie?”

He had such a pit in his stomach. His head was static.

“Uh… we were just- your father and I, we… this is going to sound, hah, silly, but-”

“You’re asking about the book,” Dipper said, because of course she was. “The dem-”

“Yes!” She spoke sharply, then put her hands up. “Yes, that, that thing. Look, sweetie, I’m sure you have a lot of questions-”

“Questions?” The static was louder now, a buzzing in his ears. “Yeah, you could say that! That was not what I was expecting, and you know, I’m getting pretty tired of all these bombshell secrets dropping about everyone I know! I would really like that to stop!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why, why on earth do you guys have a-!” At her flinch, he forced himself to stop; right, not the thing to be yelling about in public. “I just- how long has this been going on? What are you guys doing? Do you know how illegal that is?”

She nodded; her eyes were blurring. “I know, I-I know. But we’ve been worried sick about you two since Gemma was killed; I know you’re still trying to investigate it. That’s what you’re both running off to do, aren’t you?” Her voice cracked, and she lowered it. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you two, I really couldn’t. He’s helped us before; if He could just watch over you two for a couple weeks-”

“He’s helped- what? Who?” At her silence, Dipper tried a dangerous question. “Alcor?”

Something in her jaw went tight. By way of answering, his Mom dug in her purse, and drew out her car keys.

“You shouldn’t be driving, sweetie.” She pressed a button, and the locks clicked open. “Please, let me give you a lift.”

Dipper hesitated for a long moment. He glanced across at his car, still dirty and dented from the beating it’d taken at Gemma’s… then, with a sigh, he moved towards hers.

Ronald cowered on the floor, hands up, as masked figures yelled things at him; all the words in the world to ask what was going on, what happened, where’s his family–they got stuck as they always did. No patience, no space to explain. Glass shattered from the kitchen as they drew handcuffs-

    “She, of all people… she should have hated Alcor.”

And then, they passed him by. As he sat alone, his back against the wall, the last innocent morning ripped away even as the sun still twinkled through the trees, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

    “And as the story goes, she did, at first. With nowhere to go, she offered her services, and ended up working out of an ice rink in Inyo County, dealing with bodies as fast as they came in. Just a fraction of how many really died out there, but even that was overwhelming.”

Sitting next to him, as small as a child and as old as the universe, was Alcor the Dreambender. His wings drew like curtains across the chaos outside, the stomping upstairs, the police lining up outside the crematorium. His eyes were Dipper’s eyes, and all they said, over and over, were I’m so sorry, Dad, I’m so sorry, I am so sorry.

Ronald’s eyes filled with tears, and he put his head in his hands, and he let Alcor, let Dipper, let his son draw him into the tightest embrace, squeezing like he could put the pieces back together again.

But much like another sunny morning, hundreds of years ago, there was almost nothing he could do.

    “One day…”

While Ronald sobbed into his suitjacket, they were setting charges on the crematorium. Dipper watched, Alcor watched.

    “One day, Eva was working alone, when she saw a figure walking amongst the rows and rows of bodies.”

Watched as the heavy door blew off its hinges.

    “He seemed so small out there, so lost, so aimless. Eva thought he was a family member–he had the look of those grief-stricken souls who came for their loved ones–but she saw the wings on his back, the gold in his stare, and she didn’t hesitate.”

Watched as the men stormed in… and froze, their eyes wide behind their helmets, their guns quivering. Alcor was there, too. Even as he drew David close, he was there, his golden eyes taking in a truth he already knew, couldn’t stop knowing, couldn’t ever stop.

He watched–

    “–as she raged at him. Screamed at him. Beat her fists against him, asking why, why, why did–”

–you do this, Mallory? All–

    “–those people, those innocent people, it’s not your right, how could you be–”

–so monstrous? How could you be… so much like me?

Alcor walked amongst the bodies, just as he had done so long ago. He walked on a floor slick with fluids, breathed in an air that made the cops turn away and vomit. This wasn’t a scene of her bloody murders; the only victim, he sensed, was a few specks of Harry swept up with the dust under the cabinets. No, this was everything she’d let go as she spiraled ever downwards, all the corners she’d cut, all the trust she’d broken, all the shame pent up until she could only lock the doors to keep it from spilling out.

Dirty scalpels, soot-grimed counters. Body tags without their bodies, open packs of concrete dust stacked up by the urns. Three legs sticking out of the cremation machine. He could go on–the trials certainly would. They’d be particularly interested in all the bodies that came from Ianitor; prosecutors would come up with all manner of theories on how Mallory came to be behind a spree of 14 unsolved murders up and down the Federation.

    “And do you know what Alcor did?”

His eyes filled with tears, but they didn’t blur like a humans’ did. She would never leave prison. His Dad would need to sell their home in disgrace.

Harry, Gemma, Angeline, so many people were dead. And for what?

    “He took it. He didn’t argue, he didn’t justify what happened. He stood there, and he heard out all of her grief, and after he was gone, Eva realised a weight had lifted off her chest. She wondered why a demon had let her do that, had come down from some unreachable, unaccountable corner of the Mindscape to stand amongst the bodies and be shouted at–California had demonstrated he didn’t need to do that. No, he chose to do that.”

    “He chose to be there, chose to confront the devastation he’d caused. And in time, although Eva never spoke to him again after that day, her feelings began to shift. She bought demonology books–before they were restricted, of course–and kept researching him for the rest of her life. She never settled on what to think of him, but she often talked about that meeting to her children, and they talked to their children, and soon enough, our family was one of the first members of the Circle in the Federation. Unofficially, of course.”

    “And I broke that.”

    “Oh, don't worry about it, sweetie. It's not your fault.”

    “But it is. You're not really my Mom. I'm not really a part of this family.”

    “Of course you are!”

    “I'm not. I'm a demon, Mom. I'm Alcor.”

    “I love you no matter who you are.”

    “You’re dead because of me.”

    “I forgive you.”

    “I’ve ruined your life. Ruined your family. If I hadn’t tried to play human, none of this would’ve happened.”

    “If you hadn’t tried, I never would have had such a wonderful son.”

    “It doesn’t matter, does it? You’re not real, you’re not really her. This isn’t really what you’d say, is it?”

    And Eva didn’t smile so sadly. “Oh, sweetie,” echoed the voice in his head. “You’ll never know.”

________________________________________________________________

A demon’s realm was a terrible place to be. From the weakest of spirits to the most apocalyptic beings, each and every one had their little corner of the Mindscape, ‘decorated’ to their particular… tastes. It was usually a lot of blood, or a lot of fire–Alcor didn’t mind those ones so much. Pestilence demons still got to him a little; they always went all out with the gross factor, and it’s like, yeah, that’s your thing and all, but you really want to live in a lake of stinking pus or whatever? Talk about taking the job home with you.

Alcor allowed himself that little smile, before he steeled himself for Ianitor’s lair. His corner of the Mindscape was actually just across from the rolling fields of his own; his Flock grazed so peacefully within sight of a subtle slit in spacetime, all but invisible against the swirling, starry webs of pure thought that drifted in this place between places.

The Flock usually greeted him as he passed, but they kept their heads down as he stalked across the grass. He kept walking right off the boundary, his footsteps thudding on the membrane of reality, and when he reached the slit, he grabbed it with both hands, tore it open, and dove inside.

Hm.

Well, he was a bit more creative than your average demon, Alcor’d give him that. Finding himself in a maze of mirrors from floor to ceiling, it took a second for him to get his bearings. From all sides, his own blazing eyes glared him down, and every movement, every wing twitch made him jerk his head.

Oh, he did not like this–one of these reflections was gonna jump out at him for real, wasn’t it? His fists clenched.

“A̵ͪ̒l̓͡rig̣͌hṱ, Ìa̫nit̨ò̟ṟ́,” He snarled. “T̥̩hͫėr̟͆e̦͌̆'̣̑͠s͚̈́ ṭ̎̌w̶͓o way̗̖̫s th̵̍i̟̻ͣs̤ c̯͕̍â̟n͉͙ g͗o-”

“Is one of them the hard way?” Right up against his ear–the voice snorted when he jumped back. “Oh, please, Alcor, let’s not pretend there’s any universe where you go easy on me.”

“Wha-hey!” Spinning around, Alcor glowered at his reflection. “G̢̪̿etͥ̉ bą̘̩̞̔ͤ͟c̮k͌ͮ h̲͕̗̉ͦ͆̚e̙̓̃r̜e͘!”

Ianitor’s voice echoed from all around. “Hmm, no,” he said. “You can find me yourself. You should visit my knife room while you’re here. I so rarely get guests… ones in the mood to appreciate good decor, that is.”

“Keep waiting,” Alcor growled, and began to stalk down the hall. “Is this your plan? You torture m̶̯̙̥͎ͩ̉y s̱̩̒̀͞is̪̳te͖̠̹̳͚̠̣̅̀ͤr̢͚̂ and you think you can stall me out? There is nowhere in the un̶̙͋͆iv͖̗̳͞ȩ̥̝͜͜͞rş̨̧̻̰̻̟e͓̾̈̓̅̾ you can hide, Ianitor.”

“You wound me, Dreambender. You think I’m actually trying to hide?” His voice had a mock-hurt to it that Alcor couldn’t stand. “I know I can’t hide from you, and I certainly can’t match you in a fight.”

“So, what, you’re trying to talk me down?”

“You started talking first. Seemed rather rude not to respond.”

Oh, he sounded so meek and reasonable now; Alcor thought of the gloating demon in the forest, and his lip curled. “ṠH̵͍͕Ù̘͎T U͓̅̔P̟̒!̑̿̕” he snarled; he came up against one of the mirror-walls, and shattered it with a swipe. “Don’t act so i̋̓n̞n͑͟͜o̓c͙͕͑e̛̯̎nt̽͒̒. You know what you did!”

“You really are upset about that human, aren’t you?” Alcor could hear his insufferable smirk. “Ah, Mallory Quicksilver… that really was my finest work. It’s a shame Sagar let you out; I was hoping to get a few more years out of her before you tore me to pieces, but, ah… what do the humans say? Worth it.”

Alcor could feel the void creeping into his form. His fists clenched infinitely tight; he blew open a door into a room filled with knives hanging utterly still from the ceiling, and with a swipe of his hand he crumpled the whole space into a marble and hurled it against another one of those damned mirrors. He could swear his reflection grinned before it exploded into glittering dust.

“Temper, temper. Did I get the phrase wrong? I know you’re the human expert of the two of us, but you don’t have to be rude about it.”

“C̻̘O̡̘͓̞ͥM͍̻͉͉̪͊̓Ë́ O̓Ṵ̡͔̻͖̝ͯT͕̽ Ä̮͉̤͡ͅL̸̠͌͑͂͛R͇͓E͍͐ͫ͐Ȁ̞̻D̳̯͗Y̧ͤ̔͝!”

“I’d rather not.” And when Alcor growled and continued stalking forwards: “Hey, Dreambender, there’s been a question I’ve wanted to ask you. What do you… what do you think a demon is?”

He didn’t dignify that with a response, but Ianitor kept going.

“No, really, I’m just, ah, I’m a little confused what you want from me, here.”

“I want you to s̷̘̥̀ͨh̨͎̣ͩ̇̂͟utͯ̓ͨ u͉ͯ͜p̣͒͑͢ a̰̤ͮͫͣ̏n̞̐d̴̖̗ͮ͊ͅ d̳̖͗̽̀i̛̭ͩͭ̚e͖̝̣͐ͦ̕.”

“Yes, I gathered. But look, I may have nudged Mallory in a few places-”

“Nụ̢̋ͧ͟d̷g̬̳͊ed?!”

“-but you know, the first time I met her, she was already summoning a demon to kill her friend’s dad.” Out of the corner of Alcor’s eye, one of his reflections shrugged; he blasted it to pieces, but Ianitor continued. “I’m just saying, I’m a murder demon, she’s a murderer–it’s kind of in my remit, isn’t it?”

“The first time you ‘met’ her–when you kͧ̎i̙l̂le̢͗̈́d̠ Angeline?”

A snort. “Angeline, yes, you’re using that name like you didn’t just remember she exists. Look, I’m not saying I get human morals–I like torturing murderers ‘cause they’re interesting! So many other demons, they’re all in with their cults and ‘blood of the innocents’, and to each his own, but do you know how boring innocent humans are? What are you gonna sink your claws into, that time they took a candy bar from the store or whatever? Oh, please. Give me some real darkness!”

Alcor scowled at a wall. Where was he going with this?

“Anyway, my point is, I may not be some good guy, but I don’t think humans mind me as much as the other demons out there. I mean, hey, we were neighbors for centuries, and you never noticed me.” The reflection before him suddenly broke into a grin. “Do you really have a problem with me picking on murderers? Or is it just this murderer?”

“I…” Alcor started, then clenched his teeth. “I don't need to justify myself to you. You're lying; it's not just guilty people you mess with! Xiaofan, Marsh-that whole mansion, you-”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Ianitor said, and leaned in before Alcor could respond: “Come on, it’s just a little collateral! A little something to hook them in–who'd summon me if I didn't get them out of their messes first? Hey, it's not like I destroyed, say, a whole state for no-ack!”

Leaned too far; Alcor grabbed his reflection with voided claws, and peeled him out of the mirror.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Now there was a tremor in Ianitor’s voice. Hands up, he tried for a smile. “Alright, Dreambender, I upset you, I get it! I can make it right, uh, how about a deal?”

“No de̩̥ͩä̓l̩s̽.”

The claws squeezed tighter around his neck. “Okay, no deals, no–h-how about an agreement? You want souls? I got souls!”

“I͙͢ w͢ạ͌͞n͕t̨̂̇ͦͫ̾ y̘̖̺͂̏̉o͘u̷̚ ṱ̸͔̇ͥ͜ǫ̹͔̍ ḋì͟ẹ̸̡̈́̇͒̈.”

“Sure, sure, sure, but–augh!–hey, I do a lot of good work!” Ianitor strained away from those glowing eyes. “I’m a part of the ecosystem, who’s gonna be mopping up all the murderers around the world if I’m not there?! I get thank you’s, you know! Humans who never got justice except when I entered the picture, are you gonna do a better job? Let’s make a bet, Dreambender: if you can-”

And Alcor sank his teeth into Ianitor’s head. There was a terrible screaming for the second it took to buckle the skull; for every pop and crack a glass pane shattered around them, louder and louder and faster and faster until it all gave way and his teeth met and silence. Unceremoniously, Alcor pulled the body apart and plucked the flickering light of Ianitor’s soul out of the mess.

Holding it by a strand, he wiped his chin and allowed himself a grim smile at the helpless little flutters–not so talkative now, was he?

…

But his smile quickly faded, and nothing he would do to Ianitor brought it back. He didn’t feel satisfied by the time he was done, he just felt… tired. Tired and troubled, the grasping last words of a desperate demon still striking at something deep.

Are you gonna do a better job?

He sat in his Mindscape for a little bit, feeling the grass between his bloody fingers, letting the void drain out as he watched the Flock graze. Still tired. Still turning that question in his mind, over and over and over again.

Are you gonna do a better job?

________________________________________________________________

This was the same hospital Mallory was born in. A ways down the hall, past some turns and through a couple keypadded doors, and there was the NICU. Alcor remembered it well–standing invisibly amongst the rows and rows of incubators, seeing all the souls settling into tiny bodies wrapped up with tubes and masks and hopes and little hats. He was always aware of his power, but that room made him feel like a bull standing in a china shop; he kept his wings close, and he hardly dared to breathe as he approached her.

They’d summoned him deep in the woods, Ronald and Eva. Back then they were just two robed figures in a circle of eight–he realised now, a very large Circle gathering for Federation standards. Two of them didn’t even know his Mom and Dad; they’d gotten a call and driven hours to help. The other four were old family friends from the floating isles, and with just a few words from Alcor, they were soon to drift away:

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll save your daughter, deal. But listen, if you’re going to raise me, I don’t want human me to hear a word about all this Circle stuff. I just want a normal life, okay?”

Dipper remembered wondering why his parents never seemed to have any friends as a kid. Now that he was Alcor, he couldn’t help but wonder why he’d ever thought this was going to work out.

Did he ever think, when it came to these things? What had Mallory been to him back then, before he’d even laid eyes on her, but another Mabel, another Belle, another hope, another chance?

She’d been everything to him… everything but a person.

Her family history, the Circle kids she would’ve played with, the mentors she would’ve grown up with–the ones that dropped everything to help her parents do an illegal demon summoning in the middle of the night–they were all stripped from her life by a demon who thought he could customise his experience, a demon who thought he could make a few little tweaks and end up with Belle again. But Ronald and Eva weren’t Lionel, and Mallory… Oh, Mallory.

He wasn’t standing in the NICU anymore. Through a couple keypadded doors, past some turns, and a ways up the hall lay another room altogether. Two police officers stood outside the doorway to this dark and stuffy space, the sun glowing on curtains drawn to keep out the press. No rows of incubators; there was just one bed, one monitor keeping up a steady, mindless beep, and its occupant.

In a strange way, Mallory suited a hospital gown. She looked sick without her glass charm; her face gaunt, her body thin and bruised, her scalp mottled with bare patches. The Woodsman had taken its revenge, and her arms were both covered with thick bandages, ending too far up her limbs.

They rested gingerly by her sides as she lay there, her faraway eyes gazing through some home renovation show. She looked on the verge of falling asleep, but she noticed Alcor coming as soon as he stepped through the door.

Those eyes. In the darkness, they glinted like daggers. The shackle on her ankle jangled as she sat up; she’d seemed so weak and listless just a moment ago, but the white-hot fury in her aura had revived her, and an entirely new face glowered up at him.

She didn’t speak a word–whether it was because of the cops outside, or because she had nothing to say to him, he didn’t want to know. The monitor ticked up, beeping faster. After a moment of silent, seething hatred, she turned away, and lay on her side facing the wall.

The message was clear.

With a sigh, Alcor let her be; he took a step back, and his foot landed on carpet. There was a TV playing here, too, one that quickly shut off as soon as his presence was noticed.

“-at the scene of Quicksilver Funeral Home & Crematory, where we can see bodies are still being-”

“Alcor!” Lucy Ann tossed the remote aside and put on a smile. “Hey, dude.”

“Hey,” Alcor managed, and then… and then what? There was so much to say, but he was so, so tired. He looked around the room instead. “Hotel?”

She nodded. “Yeah… well, more of a motel, really.” She sat back on the double bed. “Thanks for getting me and Xiaofan out of there. You know, heh, I was happy to be in Canada for about five seconds before I remembered the weather. How do people live with this much snow?”

With a snort, she gestured at all the snowdrifts outside. Alcor didn’t laugh.

“Xiaofan, is she-?”

“Back with her folks.” Lucy Ann made a face. “I, ah, may have promised you’d go talk to her about what happened.”

“Is she going to tell?”

“About your human stunt? Hell no, she doesn’t want anything more to do with that case. As far as anyone’s concerned, she and I weren’t even in the country that day… but, ah,” and she fixed Alcor with a look. “I think she’d like an explanation.”

An explanation. He sat down hard on the end of the bed, his shoulders bowed. “Yeah,” he said, quietly. “Yeah, that… that’s fair. It’s a weird thing I did, isn’t it?”

Lucy Ann shrugged obliquely. “No weirder than your usual stuff,” she said, but when he didn’t laugh, she switched tack. “Hey, it wasn’t just you. I shouldn’t have messed with you like I did. I thought it’d be fun to see what you were like as a human, but… yeah, I should’ve known better. I should’ve known it would make things complicated.”

“What do you mean?” He looked up at her. “I liked hanging out with you.”

“Heh, you didn’t always.”

“I mean, I remember being confused why you were there. And I could tell you were keeping something back–that annoyed me.” He gave a little laugh. “I used to be the kid who wanted to know everything. I guess I still am, when... But no, I’m glad you were there. I was sad when you left, I thought we were good friends.”

“Aren’t we?”

“Of course we are! I’m just speaking from…” He trailed off, searching for the words. “It’s kinda weird, coming back after these times. I was always me, but Dipper Quicksilver still feels… separate, you know? Like I’m two different people.”

“Makes sense.” Her smile was slight. “Well, tell Dipper Quicksilver that we were friends. I liked hanging out with him, too.”

For the first time since he’d come back to himself, Dipper felt a bit of warmth in his chest. He lay back, and found the remote by his ear.

“Wanna watch something?” He asked. Lucy Ann shrugged.

“Not a lot on, but sure, if you can find something.”

Alcor considered turning it on normally–he remembered what it was set to, so he snapped his fingers, and it flicked onto the midseason of some tv show.

“Nice trick,” Lucy Ann said. He managed the ghost of a grin.

“Hey, there’s some perks I missed.”

He snapped again: advert. Another snap led them to a sitcom, and then to a police drama he really wasn’t in the mood for.

“Yeah, I told you there’s not much on.”

“Hmm…” Alcor changed it one more time, and found himself watching the same home reno show that was on in Mal’s hospital room. His first instinct was to recoil; he didn’t want to think about her right now, didn’t want a hint of the mess he’d have to deal with in the coming months, years, decades… but he hesitated.

“Oh, are we watching this?” Lucy Ann saw his pause as interest, and settled in. “Yeah, sure.”

That was it, then. With the snow drifting peacefully outside, Alcor let himself sink into the mattress, let himself rest in the comfortable sounds of this moment before the hard days to come.

And somewhere a world away, his sister was doing exactly the same.

It wasn’t much of a connection. But it was all he had, for now.

It was just as deafening as the first time he heard it. Dipper’s blood went cold; he didn’t remember tripping, but suddenly he was on the ground, hands splayed out in front of him, breath coming fast and hard and yet somehow still not enough.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Shouting–Dipper could hardly hear it over the ringing in his ears. He was struggling to stay in the forest; suddenly all he could think of was Marsh’s apartment, Harry’s voice, the gun pressed against his- no! Focus: he had to get up, he had to help!

Marsh was in trouble! Think about Marsh, think about Marsh!

BANG-vmmm!

Another gunshot; it seemed to whizz right over his head, and Dipper… Dipper felt all the courage he thought he had come up against pure, base, animal survival.

He didn’t try to get up. In blind terror, he scrambled to bury himself in the thicket, his heart pounding in his ears, one thought on loop drowning out everything else.

He didn’t want to die. No, he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to die!

One day, with all the knowledge in the universe, Dipper would look back on this moment and know exactly what happened. He’d know his Mom didn’t spot him buried in the branches; all she knew was he’d ran out ahead of her, and there were gunshots, and there wasn’t a thought in her mind but getting to him as fast as she could.

He’d know this, but that was later. This was now, and all he saw in a fog of panic was a flash of shoes, a rustle of bushes, and one, final, terrible sound.

BANG-BANG!

Dipper didn’t know how long he huddled here like a rabbit in its den; it could’ve been a hundred years, or a couple seconds. The next thing he knew was another set of shoes–they slowed to a stop in front of him, and he thought: Mal’s shoes.

“Mom! Dipper!” Her voice had a desperate edge to it, and the shoes turned to face him. “Wh-Dipper! What are you doing in there?!”

“I-I-” Dipper started, but in one movement she reached in and yanked him out.

“Where’s Mom?”

“I don’t- I, I-”

“Please!” Marsh’s voice tore through the air, just behind the thicket. “Please, please just leave me alone! Just leave me ALONE!”

Mal’s head snapped up. “What the hell is he…” she muttered, almost unconsciously, then gripped Dipper’s shoulders. “Come on!”

Dipper didn’t have time to protest; branches dragged at his legs as he tried to stop them buckling under him. Then they burst into a clearing, and his whole world narrowed to two things:

“No! Don’t come any closer!”

The trembling barrel of Marsh’s gun pointed right at their faces, and-

“MOM!”

The back of their Mom as she lay in the grass, curled into a little ball. Her sweater had roses on it. It wasn’t like that this morning, why did it have roses on it?

Why did it have roses on it?

Mal ran to her, but-

BANG-BANG!

The shots went low; dust kicked up in front of them, and Dipper heard a cracking past him as they ricocheted into the trees. Mal dove for the ground and held her hands up as Marsh turned the gun on her.

“I said don’t move, Collins!” Marsh screamed right at her. “St-stop chasing me, just leave me alone!”

“Marsh?!” Dipper started, and gulped when the gun switched to him. “What are you doing, i-it’s us! Marsh, it’s us!”

“Put the gun down! It’s not real!” shouted Mal, and then: “Take off the bracelet!”

The bracelet? Somewhere in the terror of the situation, Dipper caught sight of something red on Marsh’s wrist–a ribbon? 

But it was like Marsh hadn’t heard any of that. Her face was a rictus of terror as she started backing up, squeezing the gun ever-tighter.

“Stop coming closer!” She screamed, even as Dipper and Mal stayed frozen. “I said, stop! Stop! STOP!”

And Mal covered her head, and Dipper tensed up, and-

Click.

Marsh blinked. Then she jumped back, scrambling to clear the magazine. Mal took her chance; arms outstretched, yelling like a madman, she charged Marsh and tackled her to the ground. The gun went flying out of her hands, and the two of them wrestled together on the grass.

And Dipper stood there. Eyes wide, heart pounding, dread rising like bile in the back of his throat. It felt like swimming in molasses to move,but he forced himself to turn, and to look at his mother.

She was wearing a red sweater now. Rolled onto her side, one hand clutching her chest, she struggled to rise, and the sight of her… suddenly this wasn’t a dream anymore.

“Mom,” he breathed, then louder: “MOM!”

He stumbled as he rushed to her; his leg burned, must’ve scratched it in the thicket. Falling to her side, his hands trembled over her chest. There was so, much, blood. He didn’t even know where she’d been hit.

“Oh my god,” he tried to press down, and recoiled when she gasped. “Sorry, sorry! I- oh, my god. Oh, my god!”

What was he supposed to do?! Ambulance, ambulance–phone!

He dove for his pockets and nearly launched it out of his shaking hands. The screen stuttered on his bloody fingers and he just tapped harder and harder and harder–work, work! It had to work!

“Come on, come on–what? No!” The call didn’t go through–no signal. “No, no, no, no, no, no! Please! Please!”

A touch on his arm. Dipper flinched; looking away from his phone, his eyes landed on his mother’s hand… and then he looked at her. He looked at her, at her warm smile on blue lips, at the dimples on her paling cheeks, at the glittering shine in her eyes as she stared up at him, unblinking, like she wanted to remember every detail of this moment.

And Dipper knew why. His vision blurred as he shook his head. “No, Mom. N-no, come on.” His throat was getting tight. “Just hold on, okay? I-I’ll find something, I’ll find, I’ll…”

Her hand reached slowly up, and cupped his cheek, her thumb gently brushing the tears away. Then it rose higher, and swept his hair to the side.

With dimming eyes, Eva Quicksilver gazed at the starry birthmark on his forehead. Peace flowed over her face, draining out all the tension, all the worry, and she mouthed something he couldn’t decipher–something like a prayer.

Then her hand relaxed, too. It started to slip from his face before Dipper grabbed it.

“No, Mom! No, no, no, don’t-!” He shook her; her half-lidded eyes lost their focus, and stared past him. “Mom! Wake up, Mom! MOM!”

But it was too late.

Dipper knew what corpses looked like.

He closed his eyes, and pressed her hand into his face as the sobs started to wrack his body.

And all that time, Mal had been watching. Watching, her wet eyes flickering between shock and horror and a growing, terrible rage. All she could hear in her ears, drowning out everything else, was this neverending, godawful, unbearable cackling laughter. Her breath was coming fast; a tear splashed her cheek and she jumped, rubbed it furiously.

Racked the pistol, and turned to face the figure slowly rising from the grass.

“What have you…” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed it down. “What have you done, Khady?”

Marsh was holding her head; she’d taken a punch, and her world was still spinning. “Mal…?” Then she tried to jump to her feet. “Collins! Mal, he’s-”

“What are you talking about?” Mal stuffed the bracelet into her pocket. “Harry’s not fucking here, you shot my fucking Mom!”

“What? No. No, I saw him!” Marsh’s eyes landed on the scene in the grass; she blinked, shook her head. “No, that’s not- he was charging me! He had a knife, I-”

“Shut UP!” And when Marsh opened her mouth she thrust the gun right in her face. “Admit it, you shot her! You did this! YOU!”

“Whoa, Mal-”

“YOU DID THIS TO HER!” Mal was shaking with rage. “You killed my fucking Mom! She’s dead because of you, SAY IT!”

“Mal, I-I swear-”

“FUCKING SAY IT!”

Marsh stared down the barrel of the gun, her eyes as wide as saucers. “I…” she started, in a very small voice. “I killed your Mom. I’m so… Mal, I don’t know what to say. I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Yeah, yeah, tell it to a fucking judge!” Mal gestured around the bright clearing. “Like anyone’s going to believe you. Tell me, how the hell did you mistake my Mom for Harry? Huh?”

“I-I… he was there! We got split up, a-and he was chasing me through the forest-”

“No, you ran off on your own.” Mal nodded to herself. “Yeah, you ran off on your own, and we were coming to help you when you just started shooting around like a maniac!”

“No! I-”

“And now my Mom is dead, and it’s all your fault! You’re a murderer, a FUCKING MURDERER!”

Marsh kept shaking her head, but her wild eyes were darting around the scene; her breath was coming faster and faster and her hands came up to grab at her chest.

“No, no, no, no,” she shook her head. “No, no, no, I-I couldn’t, I couldn’t have, I- no, no, no!”

Mal curled her lip in disgust. She could see Dipper rising to his feet, so she lowered the pistol and left Marsh hyperventilating on the ground.

“Dipper- whoa, shit, Dipper!” She spied a red stain on his leg before he stumbled into her arms. “Sit down, dude, you’re bleeding!”

It was like he didn’t even hear her. “Mal, she’s… I couldn’t… what are we gonna do?” He clung to her. “Dad, he’s still at home, he doesn’t-, oh my god, oh my god, she’s dead! She’s dead!”

“C-calm down!” Mal hugged him back–but only for a moment, and she sat him down on the ground. “Let’s all just calm down, o-okay? Let me think.”

“I couldn’t get any signal,” he kept on babbling as she rolled up his jeans; there was a little hole in his calf, weeping red. “I really tried, Mal, I- what are we gonna do? D-do we go for help? I can run, I can run out of the forest, I can drive-”

“Stop it,” Mal gritted her teeth as the laughter only rose. “Shut up. Just shut up.”

“She’s right,” said a quiet voice. “You’re in no condition to move.”

Dipper looked up, and Mal followed his gaze; Marsh had walked over. She stood a distance away, hugging herself, her eyes trained on the ground just in front of their mother.

And as they watched, she took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ll go for help.” she said. “There should be signal in the parking lot, I’ll call the police and… tell them what happened.”

Mal blinked. “What?” She jumped to her feet. “You can’t do that, they’ll arrest you!”

“As they should, I…” Marsh’s jaw trembled for a moment before she clenched it. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter what I thought I saw, it’s my responsibility to know what I’m shooting at and I… I’ve done something, unforgivable. I’m so, so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Dipper gazed at her. “What happened, Marsh?”

“I don’t know. I-I don’t know how to explain it.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes. “But I’m gonna make this right, okay?”

Mal was watching this with widening eyes. “Wait, wait, hang on!” she said, jumping to her feet. “Let’s not- l-let’s think about this, alright? Do you have any idea what’s gonna happen if you go to the police?”

“Of course I do.”

“But-! But, haha, let’s not pretend you’re ‘making anything right’, Khady. Is going to the police gonna bring her back?” She pointed at their mother’s body, and stepped closer when Marsh looked away. “No, seriously, think about it!”

“Mal?” Dipper raised an eyebrow. “I don’t… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I’m saying…” She reached out, and clamped a hand down on Marsh’s shoulder. “We’re her friends! She fucked up bad, but do we really, do we want her thrown in jail? Do we want her kicked out of college? Do we want to put her face all over newspapers, ‘Khady Sall, cold-blooded murderer’? I-I mean, shit, they’re probably gonna try and link her to Gemma!”

Marsh shuddered at the thought, but still she frowned. “I don’t get where you’re going with this. I killed your mother, who cares about my fucking degree?”

“You’re not-! You’re not getting this, Marsh.” Mal bared a dangerous smile. “She’s. Already. Dead. But you’re still fine! What’s the point in going to jail for this, okay, f-for a mistake! It was a mistake!”

“What are you even suggesting? We hide the body, or…” Marsh looked into Mal’s eyes, and she recoiled. “Oh, no, no. Look, Mal, I–appreciate?–what you’re trying to do for me-”

“Hide the-?!” Dipper felt the bile rising in his throat. “Mal, you can’t be serious. Please tell me you’re not serious.”

But Mal didn’t dare to look at him. “We’re giving you, an out.” She spoke slowly, carefully, staring Marsh down. “We can just put this behind us, okay? It already happened. No one else is going to believe this was an accident; this is the only option for you.”

And the forest was dead. Silent. Marsh stood there for a moment… and then she looked Mal in the eyes, and put a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re… you’re grieving, Mal, I… you’re just saying things, I get it.” She tried for a smile. “You’re a good friend, but please, don’t worry about me, okay? I did it, I deserve what happens.”

Mal stood there, absolutely still, as Marsh heaved a sigh.

“It’s for the best,” she continued, and her eyes finally met the body on the ground. “I couldn’t live with myself if I tried to cover this up.”

And Mal… Dipper couldn’t see her face, but he could see something pass over her, a full-body flinch, and then she started breathing, hard. Her shoulders shook, her nails dug into her palms as she squeezed them into white-knuckled, quivering fists.

Dipper couldn’t see her face, but Marsh could. “Mal?” she asked, stepping back. “What’s-”

And then Mal struck. Like a snake in the grass her fist came up so fast Dipper hardly saw it–suddenly, Marsh was splayed out on the ground, and Mal drew back her leg-

“FUCK YOU!” -and drove it into Marsh’s ribs and raised it again. “FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU YOU STUPID FUCKING, ARE YOU STUPID, ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?!”

Dipper heard a sickening crack; eyes bugged out, he raised his hands. “Stop, Mal! Stop!”

“YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME? YOU’RE RUINING THIS, YOU’RE FUCKING RUINING THIS!”

She wasn’t stopping–oh my god, she wasn’t stopping! Dipper tried to get up, but his leg folded on him; he dove for her foot and held on with all his might.

“Argh, let go, let-!” Stumbling back, Mal glowered down at Dipper. “Who’s side are you on, huh?! She killed our Mom!”

“You said it was an accident!” Dipper stared at Marsh as she groaned and hugged herself. “What are you doing, Mal? You could’ve killed her!”

“Killed her, huh? Killed her?” Trembling with fury, Mal drew the pistol again. “She says it’s an accident, of course she would!”

“Mal-”

“You seriously believe her? You’re gonna let her manipulate you like this?!”

She pointed the pistol right at Marsh, who cried out and tried to get away. She got a step before crumpling back to the ground, coughing and holding her hands out in front of her. Dipper couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Mal, stop!”

“We don’t need her. She’s too stupid to follow the plan, we don’t need her!” Mal cocked the pistol. “I don’t know what I’m doing, okay, I’m, I’m not thinking straight! She pushed me to this, she shot my Mom, she shot my Mom!”

Dipper didn’t even know who he was talking to right now, but he could feel it all coming to a head. He had to do something now–his leg wouldn’t move, but he was wrapped around hers, and he did the only thing he could think of.

An awful smile was creasing Mal’s lips now. “Like you said, you did it, huh?” She loomed over Marsh. “You deserve what happ- augh!”

Dipper sank his teeth into Mal’s shin, and held on tight. She jerked her leg up, stumbled, and fell backwards. Once she was on the floor he felt her hands prying at him.

“Ow! Augh, let me go, you’re hurting me!” Her fingers pushed into his mouth. “Let… me… go!”

Forcing his jaw down, Mal managed to get out; she scrambled backwards, one hand clamped around her leg.

“Um, ow!” She glowered at him, limping to her feet. “What the hell, Dipper! Do I need a fucking rabies shot?”

But Dipper just stared up at her, and the fury in her face was shifting to something else.

“The bracelet,” Dipper said, barely above a whisper. Mal set her jaw. “You said, take off the bracelet.”

Mal didn’t respond. She looked away, trying for a dismissive shrug, but there was too much tension in it. Dipper had a terrible feeling in his stomach.

“Y-you said it’s not real,” his ears were ringing. “When Marsh was-, you said ‘it’s not real’, what did you mean by that?”

“I don’t-, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mal-”

“I didn’t say that, I-I didn’t say anything like that! You must be misremembering, or, or-” She wrung her hands, working herself up. “I don’t even know what you mean by that, what are you even saying? She’s my Mom too, do you think I wanted this?! Honestly, what’s wrong with you, Dipper!”

She sounded so upset–sounded, he thought. But suddenly, with Marsh sobbing on the ground next to him, there was a performance to this, an uncanny hollowness that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand right up.

“Dipper?”

But the worst thing was, it wasn’t a new feeling at all. It was so, sickeningly familiar, and he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what to think.

“Well? Say something!”

Who was he talking to?

Then, a twig snapped. Footsteps, coming closer. The question echoed in his mind as he saw the blood drain from Mal’s face; whirling around to look at the sounds, she hesitated, then hid the pistol and quickly called out:

“Help! Over here, we need help!” And she shot Dipper a pale smile. “Thank god, someone’s coming!”

The bushes rustled before them. From the darkness, a small figure stepped into the sunlight-

“Oh, shit,” Mal drew her pistol.

-and threw off her hood. Dipper’s eyes widened, and a million thoughts raced through his mind as he saw a face he wasn’t sure he’d ever see again.

“You need help, huh?” Lucy Ann bared no smile in her teeth. “No, Mallory, you’ve done enough. Put the gun down.”

“The vampire,” Mal breathed. She crossed in front of Dipper. “Stay back. I-I’ll protect you!”

“Oh, fuck off!” Another voice from the shadows; Xiaofan tore into view. “What have you done this time?!”

“What have I-” Mal pointed the gun at her. “Wh-who the hell are you?”

“You know damn well who I am.” Xiaofan narrowed her eyes at Dipper. “Your sister’s a murderer. Ask her what happened to Gemma.”

Murderer. Dipper recoiled at the word, and he could see Mal shake her head.

“What are you talking about?” She risked a glance down at him. “Dipper, I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Then you shouldn’t care if we explain, right? Dipper,” Lucy Ann’s voice softened, and she put her hands up. “I know what’s being said about me, I… I’m sorry I left the way I did, I shouldn’t have done it like that. But you know me! You know I never would’ve done that.”

“He knows you?” Mal snorted dismissively. “I’m his sister. Dipper, I’m your sister. You honestly think I would’ve done anything to Gemma?”

Dipper’s head was spinning. “I…”

“That’s not all you’ve done,” sneered Xiaofan. “You framed me! Asked for my address the same night I got arrested, how do you explain that?”

“You think I-”

“With the stolen jewels your little Collins buddy made off with!” Xiaofan’s laugh was bitter as lemons. “You like mysteries, Dipper? The only mystery I see is how she’s gotten away with it for so long!”

“No,” He shook his head. “No, that’s-”

“Crazy, you're right!” Mal was backing up. “They’re coming for us, Dipper. We gotta get out of here!”

She had a hand on his shoulder, her grip warm and vicelike and familiar and alien. The two of them were inching ever-closer, pausing every time Mal switched the gun on them.

Behind him, Marsh was groaning. Mal dug her nails in.

“St-stop it! Not another step, I’m warning you!” She turned the gun on Marsh, and both of them froze. “Or else!”

Dipper blinked. “Mal!”

“Bluffing, obviously,” she hissed through her teeth. “Please, just trust me, Dipper. That’s all you need to do.”

“Wha- Uh, hello?!” Xiaofan waved her hands. “What more proof do you need? Do we look like the bad guys, here?!”

And they didn’t, they really didn’t. But what was the alternative? That all this time, all this time…

(“She set you up to this, didn’t she! She wants to cut me out of the fucking deal!”)

(“I haven’t really solved the case, have I?”)

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…

(“You're being really paranoid, Mal. Xiaofan wouldn't do that.”)

(“Did you call Gemma Friday?”)

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…

(“Marsh, meet my sister, Mallory.”)

(“See you soon, Gemma.”)

(“You knew about the book?”)

(“Why can’t we just talk anymore, Mal? Why can’t you just stop for once and actually talk to me like a real person!”)

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

“Hey.”

And in the midst of all of this, a gentle voice cut through the noise. Lucy Ann wore such a sad smile.

“Dipper,” she said. “Look at me, okay? Do you want to know the truth?”

He looked into her eyes, and his face started to crumple. “I-I don’t understand,” he said. “This is crazy, this is- she’s my sister!”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I just- how do I-I know I can trust you? Everyone, everyone’s lied to me!” He held his pounding head. “I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

“They’re getting in your head, Dipper.” Mal’s grip tightened. “They’re trying to split us apart! Look at me, Dipper. Do you honestly believe I’m some kind of complete monster?”

Dipper couldn’t look at her; he shook his head.

“I don’t, I…”

“Hey, Dipper.” Lucy Ann cut in. “I get it, you’re sick of people lying to you. I did it too, and I’m sorry. No more, okay?”

And she started to draw something out of her pocket. Xiaofan glanced back, and her eyes widened as she recoiled-

“No more,” she repeated, with a summoning circle in her hands and a blade pressed to her palm. “It’s time for you to remember everything.”

“What are you- stop!”

“She’s gonna-!”

And before his eyes Lucy Ann sliced her palm, slapped it onto the paper, and…

…and?

The forest stood still, everyone frozen in horror, as Lucy Ann drew her palm back. She gazed down at the absolutely bloodless opening with a growing bewilderment.

“What the hell…?” She muttered. “Well, that’s not-”

Then, in one unnatural wave, dark blood rushed out of her cut, wrapped around her wrist, and pinned her to a tree. The paper fluttered out of reach; Xiaofan took half a step forward, and then jumped back.

“What the-?” Something red was climbing her cloak, strands hooking onto her arms and tying her down. “What the fuck?! Lucy Ann, what have you done!”

“This–agh–this isn’t me, this isn’t–Dipper!”

“What’s going on?!” Dipper struggled to get to his feet, but Mal kept him down. “Mal? What is this?”

Mal’s face was deathly pale. She opened her mouth… but another voice answered for her.

“Well, well, wasn’t that a close one!” It boomed from every direction, cold and loud and gleeful. Everyone but Mal flinched and tried to cover their ears. “Sagar, Sagar, long time no see! You are a tricksy one, aren’t you? Just as much a pain in my side as the day you broke up my cult in Cyrene.”

The blood around her wrist seemed to squeeze, and she let out a cry of pain. The voice just cackled.

“Not that I hold a grudge–noo, I would never! I’m not one for all this ‘ritual sacrifice’ business, anyway. I mean, really, why let a bunch of pathetic little humans have all the fun?” Then the ropes around Xiaofan pulled taut, and brought her to her knees. “Oh, but speaking of humans, my apologies! I’m letting Sagar have all the credit, aren’t I? Where are my manners?”

Xiaofan’s eyes were wide and shining with terror. She tried to speak, but blood ran into her mouth and she gagged and coughed.

“Xiaofan,” the voice crooned, stretching out the syllables. “You’re the one who hid this from me–well, more Gemma, but she’s not around to accept my congratulations, is she? What a shame,” it sneered. “I daresay I would’ve let your little plan play out if Sagar hadn’t forced my hand at the end there. And now, no one’s ever going to know what really happened to your friend. Or̆͘ t̜̤̲ô̗ ŷ̧̛͔͇̏͜o̕ŭ.”

“Mal! W-we gotta do something, Mal!” Dipper saw the blood starting to run towards him. “Mal, Mal!”

“Hmm…” The closer the blood got, the more Dipper’s head started to throb. It slowed as he held his head, and receded. “No, that doesn’t work, does it. Ah, well. It looks like you’ve already got this one, partner.”

Mallory’s hand on his shoulder… Dipper tried to brush it off, but it didn’t move. “Mal,” he said, looking up at her, begging her to meet his eyes. “Mal, what’s it talking about? You’ve got nothing to do with this, right? Right?”

“Nothing to do with this? Hah!” The voice barked a laugh. “Well, there’s no use for subterfuge now, is there? Little murderer, why don’t you introduce me to your brother? I’ve always wanted to meet your family!”

“I-” Mal’s voice was tight. “No. No. Don’t make me.”

“Mal?!”

“Aww, that’s not very polite of you, is it?” It tutted to itself. “It’s nice to meet you, heh, ‘Dipper’. You can call me Ianitor.”

“Ianitor?” Lucy Ann started thrashing to break free. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh-”

Another loop of blood caught her other hand. “You wound me, Sagar, it’s almost like you’re not pleased to see me! I may be the Lord of Murder, Demon of the Bloody Hands, the Muse and Refuge of the Damned, but I have feelings too, you know!”

Something was moving past them; Marsh, groaning and making furrows in the dirt with her fingernails, was dragged to lie between Lucy Ann and Xiaofan.

“Besides,” Ianitor’s voice oozed with malice. “I’m not the one who’s going to kill you three. She is.”

And all eyes, wide and horrified, turned to Mallory. She didn’t meet any of them; she curled into herself, clutching the gun to her chest.

“What are you doing?” She murmured. “This isn’t what I wanted. Th-this wasn’t the deal!”

Dipper grabbed her leg. “Mal? Mal, this is insane. This isn’t you!”

“Ohhh, ‘this isn’t you!’” Ianitor’s voice rang out loud and mocking. “I really am impressed–after everything he’s seen today, you’ve still got him wrapped around your little finger! You’re an excellent liar, and I’ll tell you a secret.” His voice lowered. “You can even lie to yourself. This isn’t what you wanted? Hah! This is what it was all leading up to, my friend, let’s not pretend you saw some magical happy ending where you quietly settled down in that funeral home. You’re a m̖ͬọ̈́ǹ͍ste̔͝r̽, but you’re not an idiot.” 

Mal was breathing fast, her hands trembling as she turned the gun over in her hands.

“No, the only thing you’re upset about is that I let some people peek behind the curtain. Oops.” A cackle. “I guess I’m a liar, too, who’d’ve guessed? But hey, they don’t have to live to tell the tale, and I can make sure you never have to think about Dipper again.”

Dipper felt cold fear lance through his heart. Xiaofan was throwing herself madly against her restraints… to no avail.

“He hates you, Mallory. There’s no going back; everyone who sees you, h̫ate̡̊s̜̐͑ you. You’ve got to get better at hiding that, and you will. I’ll help you.”

Mallory’s trembling jaw set. She took a deep breath… then slowly raised the pistol, and pointed it at Xiaofan.

“No!” Dipper grabbed at her leg. “No, Mal, don’t! You can’t!”

“Oh, but you can. You already have, over and over and over again. You’re doomed. You ruin people, that’s who you are. That’s all you are.” His voice was so soft, so soothing. “Now, my friend, do what you do best.”

“No, no, no, no, no!”

But Dipper couldn’t stop her this time. Her finger hooked on the trigger, and the tremors stilled, and with this dead-eyed, hollow, haunted look, Mallory Quicksilver began to squeeze.

Then it came from all around. Like the ringing in Dipper’s ears, but deeper, a building roar that emanated from the forest, a thundering that shook the very ground they stood on. Mal blinked; she glanced to the side, just for a moment… and that was enough.

The trees began to shake, birds fled their roosts, and then just as they had before, a storm of deer burst from the thicket. They swept past Lucy Ann, Marsh and Xiaofan–Dipper couldn’t see them, but he could see a set of lowered antlers and sharp hooves coming right for them.

He didn’t have time to duck before they were on him–over him. Missing his nose by inches, the great stag rammed Mal and sent her flying.

ee͋e͚e̠eẹ̗eee͎e̙̣e…̺

And his head began to pound. With wide eyes he looked through the stampede and saw a different struggle; something blue and fiery and antlered, locked in combat with a blackness. And the blackness was winning–it snarled and thrashed and pressed down as the herd thinned-

“Alcor!”

But Dipper heard a name, and turned his head. Lucy Ann! She was sprinting through the stampede, coming for him, holding something high above her head–a paper?

“NO!” the blackness roared; Ianitor reached for her, but the antlered figure dragged him back, and

and she slapped Alcor’s circle

right on his chest.

“Wha-?” Dipper breathed. He looked at her as a terrible pain began to split his forehead. “What–agh!–what have you done? No! Stop it! STO̫͋P I͞T!̲”

“Sorry, man, this is gonna hurt,” Lucy Ann gave him a sad smile. “I’m here, okay? I’m here.”

And she pulled him into a hug as his world began to dissolve. Flashes–blood, candles. Terrible things, and at first he recoiled from them but they kept coming, blood kept dripping on his hands and suddenly these weren’t images, they were memories, they were memories and oh stars, who was he, what was he?

And then, and then… he knew.

He knew everything, and Dipper Quicksilver was no more.

E̘̗̍̉E͙͊͐ͥEͪḘȆ͓E̡͈͆͊EE̳̒E̜̔͘E̱͌ͮ͠E̖Ë̗̬́̒E͝E̺̪̫̖̾E̤̒̈́̕E̡͊̀̾̈́Eͮ͑ͣE̸̔E̞̓E̞ͮ͂EE̢̪̼̬ͯͫ͘EE̟ͨ̾̇̕EE̙̾͆͂̔͞

“Alcor? Hey, Alcor! You with me?”

Alcor. He woke up in her arms, blinking tears out of his eyes. Because he knew, he knew, oh stars, he knew. He looked up, his great wings unfurling, and he met Mallory’s horrified expression from across the clearing with one of his own.

Oh, no, Mizar. He looked at her, at the blood on her hands, the blackness in her soul. What have you done?

“Oh dear.” Ianitor’s voice was suddenly much more timid. “Well, Mallory, I’m off to enjoy my last few moments of existence. Good luck!”

And he blipped out of existence; Alcor wanted to follow him, wanted to grab him and t͕̾ea̸͂r̥̍ h̰̬͗i̷̇m̭̒ͭ l̎ͯ̚ȉm̃̇͡b͔̬͂ f͗roͬ͛m̛͔̎ l̡̫̍i̥ͥ̒mb͛͛ͥ… but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He couldn’t believe this, he just couldn’t believe what he saw in her.

“Dipper?” Mallory backed up; the gun was in her hand, and she threw it away. “Is that–is that really you?”

He didn’t know what to say. He just stared, stared as the deer formed a circle around her, braying and shaking their bloody antlers.

“What’s going on? I-I don’t understand, I- Dipper! Dipper!”

He just stared, as a figure materialised beside him. The Woodsman was smaller than he remembered, a ghostly boy with freckles on his cheeks, and a blade in his back, and hands, so many guilty hands hanging from his antlers.

The Woodsman, gripping his hatchet, started forwards, and Alcor just stared.

“What are you-?” Mal’s face blanched, and she backed up until she hit the circle of antlers. “No! No, no, no, I didn’t- I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Harry, please, d-don’t- DIPPER! Dipper, HELP!”

But he just stared, stared until the deer closed ranks around Mallory, and he could see no more.

…

That was a lie.

He was Alcor, now.

He seemed to seriously consider her question. “I'm alright.” He said, and a rare smile graced his face. “I'm glad to see you again, Esther. I hope the others will come back soon.”

A frown. “What, are they out?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Huh.” It was weird for her Mom to leave without telling her… she glanced back at the house. “Well, I better get back to Uncle Nathan! You coming, or… hah, are you just gonna stand there?”

Abbadon was looking out over the lake; it took him a moment to turn around. Wordlessly, he started up the path, and she followed.

“Sooo,” she started. “You got any plans for today? I was thinking I’d explore the basement! I really haven’t been down there enough; I heard there’s a dungeon!” A chuckle. “You think I could rope Ben into coming when he gets back? I bet that’d be priceless!”

But Abbadon didn’t react much. He kept trudging straight ahead, and Esther rolled her eyes. So he was in one of his moods… oh, well. She could talk for the both of them.

“Man, am I still dripping?” She grimaced at the little trail of droplets she was leaving behind. “Can you get me a towel from the laundry room? Mom’s gonna kill me if I ruin the floors again.”

“That won’t work.”

“C’mon, you know where the laundry room is! That’s your favourite place!”

“Was my favourite place. The dryer no longer works.” He crossed his arms. “Anyway, it would go through you. You’ll have to adjust.”

“Go through me?”

“Yes,” he said, like it was obvious. Before she could respond, the hotel was coming into view. “I will find the patriarch. He has been acting… strangely, in your absence.”

“In our- what?” Esther blinked as he scampered off. “Absence? Hey, wait, Abbadon! What do you mean!”

She tried to keep up with him, but he was already gone, leaving her at the foot of the hotel, the front doors swinging ajar in the breeze. A breeze she could hear rustling through the branches all around her… but she noticed, she didn’t feel its chill.

She was standing, sopping wet, in the middle of the courtyard, and she didn’t feel anything.

There was a pit in her stomach all of a sudden. Why… why had she been at the lake? She didn’t remember going to the lake.

(Most ghosts don’t remember how they-)

She shook her head--okay, shut up, shut up! She was just, just freaking herself out, that was crazy talk. She was gonna go inside, and Uncle Nathan was gonna tell her Mom and Ben were out in town, and they were gonna go watch movies until they got home.

That was what was gonna happen. Esther put a foot on the first step, gazed up at the swinging doors.

She was… she was gonna go inside. She inched past the doors--she didn’t want them to hit her, that was all!--and found herself in the lobby. But not the same lobby she’d left.

“Abbadon?” Esther picked her way through upturned chairs and shattered paintings with broken glass strewn across the floor--she’d never seen it look this bad. “Uncle Nathan?”

But there was no answer. Ghosts peeked through the wall, and their gazes were strange, somber; she saw the cowboy and reached out a hand.

“Wait! Hey, wait, have you seen- no, no, don’t go!”

He slipped back into the wall; her hand followed, followed through. Fear ran like a live wire through her at the sight: her hand was going through the wall, glowing that same eerie blue that Uncle Nathan did when- No! With a gasp, she whipped it back and hugged it to her chest.

“No, no, no,” she backed away, and gasped when she went through a couch. “No, no, no no! Uncle Nathan! M-Mom, Mom, where are you! Mom!”

Her eyes welled with tears-- no, this couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t, this had to be a bad dream. It had to be.

Right there in the lobby, she curled into a ball. “Mom…” She mumbled, hugging her knees to her chest, feeling a sob well up in her throat. “I-I want Mom…”

“Esther?”

A voice. Not Mom’s--but Uncle Nathan!

“Esther! You’re back?!” He sounded like he was coming closer; a second later, he stumbled right through the wall, his wide eyes landing on her. “Esther!”

There was a wild relief on his face when he saw her, but she felt none of it. She shook her head and curled up tighter, and that beaming grin dropped just as fast as it came.

“Oh, Esther,” and he was there, and hands were wrapping tight around her; his hands, she realised. His arms, squeezing like he never wanted to let go. “It’s okay, bud. I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay.”

It’s gonna be okay, he said, and something in her wanted to scream what part of this is okay?! Something in her recoiled at his touch, because they weren’t supposed to be able to touch, he wasn’t supposed to be able to hug her like this!

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said again, and even though it didn’t even sound like he was sure of it, a much bigger part of her was so tired and so scared that for a moment she just let herself believe.