"Seriously Mabel, I'm not sure how you manage to fit all that stuff into one bag. It's like, bottomless or something," said Dipper, scratching his chin over the sheer quantity of glittery arts and crafts products that were currently being unloaded onto the huge family dinner table [1]. Once she had decided on what she was going to do, she had gotten to it immediately and had fled to the bags still waiting in the hallway. As she had passed through the living room once again in order to ask Sara whether it was okay to use the kitchen for her project, she had walked by Ford, who was now holding a somewhat sleepy Greg in his arms and still jabbering away with Sara as if they really were old friends and hadn't met literally a few hours ago, seeming to have moved onto different subjects now that their fake background had been established. To her surprise, Wirt had struck up a conversation with Anthony. Not that it looked particularly pleasant on Wirt's side though, his smiles turning bitter halfway through and the skin between his eyebrows constantly creased, but at least it remained civil.

Dipper, left to watch on the sidelines and looking somewhat bored, had then caught sight of her and sensing the mischief she was surely planning, had followed her into the kitchen, only to now be stupefied by the item he did not believe hadn't been somehow affected by Gravity Fall's aura of weirdness.

"Are you sure that you don't want Ford to take a look at it..? He always brings a minimum of gear with him, maybe that..."

"I don't think that's the best of ideas actually, Dipper," Mabel replied, suddenly becoming grim. "Have you seen how relaxed Ford is? Give him a break, you know? Anything that happens here can't be that dangerous compared to stuff that happens in Gravity Falls. I can let you take a look at my bag, even though I can swear that there's nothing paranormal about it."

Her brother pondered her words for a few seconds, letting his shoulders that had tensed at the mention of Ford fall with a sigh.

"Fine. I guess you're right, we should all try to relax now that we're away from our work. Isn't this what holidays are for after all? Getting to relax a bit before going back to another year of school. I guess that it's the other way around now."

"Yes. We should be concentrating on family and friends and fun times!"

Dipper smiled. "Yeah."

There was a silence, only the rustle of supplies and paper filling it until it slowly faded away. The girl echoed her brother's sigh, then looked up to him. She could see in his face shock when he noticed her eyes, filled to the brim with tears that she had tried to be holding back.

"Oh, Mabel," he said, taking a step forward to hold her in a comforting hug.

"I-I-It's just… D-Dipper, I th-think it's the end. I th-think we're getting closer to the end, and… I j-just hope that Wirt and G-Greg will be happyyyy..."

Much to her dismay, she started bawling into her brother's shoulder.

"Mabel, I… You're going to make a scrapbook, right? You… you don't do them as often, only when you really want to keep something safe… Tell you what, we'll make it together, all right? We'll make a scrapbook, give it to Wirt and Greg, and..."

She tightened the hug on her side when she felt tears seeping through the shoulder of her own sweater. Suddenly, footsteps were heard, and Mabel looked up just in time to see a short figure shoot behind the door. Nervously, she detached from her brother's embrace and wiped her cheeks furiously, Dipper doing the same when the unknown silhouette tentatively stepped back into the kitchen and they were finally made fully aware of her presence.

This was undoubtedly one of Anthony's sisters, her face echoing some of his features, but apart from this she was as different as could be from her brother. Where he was laid-back in a teenager kind of way, she was all tension and nerves. Suspicion froze her young face in an iron mask (from what Mabel could tell, she was maybe ten or eleven), her eyes quickly jumping from one twin to the other.

"Hi there," Mabel said, trying as always to be friendly despite the wobble still present in her voice. "I'm Mabel and this is Dipper, and we're..."

"You were talking about Wirt and Greg. Mom has been looking for a Wirt and a Greg for years, they disappeared when she was a kid. Are the people in the living room..." she flicked her thumb over her shoulder. "...Wirt and Greg?"

She spoke quietly, something the twins were grateful for as they wouldn't have had time to rush over to silence her. They exchanged a look and Mabel nodded at her brother, agreeing on telling her the truth. No lies could help them now.

"Yes, they are, but it's important that you keep it secret. It'll be too difficult to explain this to the whole family if anyone else found out. We need to keep it as quiet as possible, can we trust you to do that?"

She looked pensive for a second, but then a smile slowly appeared on her face, much to the twin' dismay. They would recognise that look anywhere. It was one that they had themselves used more than they cared to admit on the Grunkles and on their parents when they knew they had a way to get anything they wanted.

"Only-" She raised a finger, before pointing it in Dipper's direction, "-if you teach me sign language, and you-" This time the finger pointed in Mabel's direction, "-tell me more about these people."

The twins yet again looked at each other, but really there was no need to. Her terms were not unreasoneble, and the only thing that could possibly hinder them would be the fact that Dipper would have to take an internet crash-course in ASL, but that shouldn't be much of a problem. [2]

"Of course," Mabel answered in her sweetest voice. "Let's shake on that," she added, offering her hand candidly. Dipper kept his eyes on the girl when she hesitantly placed her own in his sister's, checking that she would not rely on the much-used childish technique of crossing her fingers behind her back as she did, but much to his relief, her other hand remained by her side.

"Great! Maybe I should get my part of the deal over with right away. Dipper, you know the basics on how to make a scrapbook: staple some pages together, will you? No space-glue this time please!"

Her brother sighed dramatically, but past experience had taught her not to trust him with simple tasks like these without giving specific instructions: he was too likely to want to 'liven things up' by adding some weird goo that he would have found stuck on the underside of Ford's desk, or some other place where weirdness was profuse. Yet again, the same thing could be said of her and her cooking habits: to each their own, she guessed.

"Is there somewhere here that would be safe for us to speak?" Mabel asked the girl. "Oh, by the way, what's your name?" she added on for good measure. Referring to her as 'the girl' or 'Anthony's sister' was going to get old fast, and as Dipper or Ford would probably say in their own pessimistic way, "know your enemy".

"Call me Sam," she answered in a mumble, gesturing over her shoulder for Mabel to follow her. They went through another door leading off from the kitchen into the unknown depths of the house beyond, followed closely by Dipper's narrowed eyes as they moved away and out of sight. She could understand his discomfort, she herself was slightly nervous to be separated and alone from people she knew, but they had to move on. The spirit incident was still fresh in their minds, Dipper's injury a reminder of every instant, but if they were to heal healthily, they must have faith in what the future had in reserve for them.

Nevertheless, she did feel a bit of relief when she heard movement and Wirt's slightly anxious voice join Dipper's in the kitchen, words indistinguishable to her from her position halfway up the stairs, but present nevertheless. At least he won't worry about her too much, and with a bit of luck, the older boy will prevent him from melting away half of her craft materials. Now, she could only hope that the little girl named Sam truly was the person she claimed to be and not a shapeshifter or a demon of some description.

Yet another sigh escaped her as she entered the darkened room that the child had opened up for her: was it the constant contact with the paranormal that was filling her previously carefree life with planning? Or was this just a sign that, as her parents had told her she would, she had finally started growing up?

[1] Really, this was originally Harry Potter inspired (the Deathly Hallows), but I can't really ignore the reference to "Bottomless Pit!" either.

[2] ASL is the acronym for American Sign Language.

Holy cr*p, 10,000 views? Am I dreaming? Well, there's only one thing I can add to this:
Thank you.
To all of you who have been around for the year and a half that we've been on this adventure, thank you. To those who have discovered this more or less recently, thank you. To those who have yet to read this author's note long after this has been published, thank you. I have, personally, been through a lot with this story. My style has changed, and so has my way of thinking, and I thank every single reader who has had to bare with this. Even though this story is, by far, my most popular, I have never received a single negative review regarding its contents, and this warms my heart. I also thank you all for baring with my procrastination and wild fandom-switching. Thank you. This adventure isn't yet finished, but this isn't a reason to not give you all my gratitude for sticking with me up to now.

Sincerely hoping that the next chapter will come sooner than this one,
-Oaky.