It was quiet.

That was the first thought that entered Dipper's mind as he regained consciousness.

The screams and cries for help had ceased, ravenous growling of fantastical monsters no longer surrounded him. Even the faint crackling of fire had seemed to dissipate. Now the only thing he could hear was silence itself.

(It was cold.)

The silence covered him like thick, icy syrup, leaving him feeling empty and hollow. In that moment he felt like nothing. No. He was nothing. Every single nerve in his body seemed to have gone completely numb, replaced by a gentle hum like the buzz of electricity.

Air had escaped his lungs, but he felt no need to try and reclaim it. His mind was muddled and foggy, only faintly perceiving the sea of shadows that surrounded him. Never before had he felt so calm.

As he floated there in the darkness, there was a slight nagging at the back of his mind. He should be doing something. Something important.

There were emotions, swirling and vibrant, just out of his reach. If he focused he could just barely sense them; happiness, fear, shock, anxiety, and countless others. Had he really been harboring all of those feelings before? It seemed pointless really. (Everything was pointless.) He felt so much more at rest this way.

If only it weren't for the damned silence.

The nagging persisted, this time urging him towards those clusters of joy and anger that danced around him. (Hilarious.) How annoying.

He wasn't sure how long he was there, floating in silence. Time seemed rather pointless. Almost laughable. The only thing worth thinking about now was himself. He and those irritatingly close emotions, which continued to teasingly spin around him like a flock of hungry vultures. (Ha, necrophagia.)

The more he tried to ignore them, the faster they seemed to spin, until he eventually found himself in a whirlwind of passion, flying just past the reaches of his mind in an almost mocking fashion. Every so often he would test his strength and stretch out his mind to try and catch one of them. (How dare they!) His efforts proved useless as they would continue to hover inches away, zooming around him at speeds he had once deemed incomprehensible.

Faster and faster and faster.

The pull began to grow stronger, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. He couldn't distinguish between them anymore. Content mixed with jealousy, anger clashed with hope (useless chemical concoctions of gray matter), confusion with shame, what once was joy now flowed with hints of anxiety and shock. He attempted to block it out, disregard its presence, but it was becoming near impossible.

Everything was spinning and squirming and clashing. They began to grow closer, brushing past him. A hint of happiness, followed by a blast of melancholia. He was drowning in his own emotions. And it hurt.

The pain was blinding. (It wasn't even the good kind.) Each feeling brought on a new wave of torture. The numbness of before had disappeared, leaving him to be swallowed by his own soul, lost in a whirlwind of agony.

Another eternity passed. His once paralyzed nerves now burned with an unbearable pain that continued to increase until he felt as if he was going to explode. (Definitely not hilarious.)

Instead of a sharp nudge like earlier his mind was now beating him, silence replaced by high pitched screeching, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't make out what it was trying to convey. (Words are worthless anyways.) All he knew was that this was wrong. That this wasn't supposed to happen. Somewhere along the line a mistake had been made, and now he was paying the price.

In the midst of his agony he was able to grasp onto something. A sliver of a memory, one so simple and small that at any other time he would have ignored it and continued on. (He should have.)

When he was eight Mabel and he had gone camping with their dad.

Suddenly a fresh wave of pain tore through him, this time accompanied by a barrage of memories. His name was Dipper Pines. He had battled a gang of zombies with Mabel. She was—he faltered for a second—she was his twin sister. He was Dipper Pines. He was twelve—no he was thirteen. Thirteen years old. He was visiting his Grunkle Stan at the Mystery Shack in Gravity Falls Oregon. His name was Dipper Pines. His name was Dipper Pines. His name was Dipper Pines.

(Somebody help me.)

He cracked open his eyes.

I'm coming Mabel.

"Dipper!" A young girl called out into the woods for what felt like the hundredth time, only to be met with the same empty response. She knew it was pointless to try by now, but she promised herself she wouldn't give up hope.

Two weeks. That's how long it had been since that horrifying day. Since Weirdmaggedon ended. Since Bill was defeated.

Since Dipper disappeared.

She still didn't understand quite what had happened. One second Dipper had been standing there triumphantly as Bill shattered into shards of pale gold, and the next second his body was replaced with cold empty air.

Even Grunkle Ford was stumped at her brother's vanishing act. He had spent hours upon hours down in his basement trying to find Dipper, or at least understand what had happened. The only thing that had turned up in his research was a bad case of insomnia and a giant migraine, neither of which were very helpful.

Mabel wouldn't give up though. She refused to believe that he was gone. What kind of sister would give up on her twin brother? Not this one.

Unfortunately, the more days that passed the more her faith began to wane. Her voice had grown hoarse from shouting his name over and over into the woods. For the first time in years she hadn't prepared her daily jug of Mabel Juice.

After the "incident" Mabel had been allowed to stay an extra month to help clean up the town. Her parents believed they had been hit with a small tornado, or something of the sort. School in Piedmont didn't start till mid-September anyways so she wouldn't be missing anything.

She shuffled along, kicking away any pine cones or rocks in her path. Her shouting had scared away all of the usual fauna, leaving the atmosphere barren and suffocating. There wasn't so much as a gnome to pester her. Somehow that only made her feel worse.

As she shambled past a particularly luminescent patch of flowers a deep rumble echoed through the trees. The shaking caused her to stumble and shift violently. Maybe that earthquake story hadn't been such a big lie after all.

A bright blue light burst through the tree trunks, burning her eyes and filling her with a peculiar sense of dread. The glow filled the air around her, neon blue and buzzing with raw energy. It hung in the air for a few moments before fading away. Leaving her in shock, breathless and shaking on the rocky floor.

She took a moment to gather her bearings and thoughts. As far as magic went the forest had been practically dormant after Bill's death, so it was safe to say Mabel was a bit concerned at the sudden blast of energy. No doubt Grunkle Ford had seen it too. Or at least felt that weird buzzing.

She didn't have much time to think before a new sound reached her ears: a cough. Soft and weak but she had still heard it. And it had come from the same direction as the explosion. She gulped.

Without considering the dangers she started towards the spot where the cough had originated. A few steps in the right direction and she found herself at the edge of a drop. Apparently the blast had been more than just a light show.

Mabel stared down into a deep crater caused by what she assumed to be some sort of supernatural explosion. Thick plumes cobalt smoke wound their way out of the hole, tickling her already highly irritated throat. At this distance it was impossible to see the center of the explosion through all of the clouds. She'd have to get closer.

Cautiously, she climbed down the newly born rocky slope. Her foot slipped a few times but she managed to stay on her feet without tumbling down. The crater was much deeper than she had originally thought, and it took her a good few minutes before she was on relatively flat ground again. Another cough had reached Mabel during her journey down.

By the time she reached the bottom she could just barely make out the shape of someone lying in the center of smoke and debris. Mabel immediately began to run towards them, ignoring the dust that found its way into her already heavily watering eyes. She tripped, scraping the side of her hand, but immediately got back up again. Before she knew it she was staring down at the shivering body of a small boy.

She smiled.

"Remind me again why you need twenty pounds of raw lamb?" Stanley stared at his brother worriedly as he began taking inventory. Deep bags the size of quarters had formed beneath his weathered eyes. To say that Stan looked exhausted was an extreme understatement.

Ford sighed next to him as he set down a clipboard, "There is a Manticorn that has been sneaking around the town dump. A recent encounter has led me to believe that mutton is their preferred meat."

"Then why'd you make me get lamb meat?" Stan grumbled.

"Lee, mutton is lamb meat." Ford explained.

"Oh."

"Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford!" Mabel's voice called down from the shop. How the little girl managed to shout all the way down to the basement he would never understand.

"What is it? What happened?" Stan yelled back. It didn't take much for him to recognize her worried tone. He began speeding towards the elevator, dropping a particularly hefty glass jar of dragon scales in the process.

"Stanley! Do you realize how long—"

"It's Dipper!" Mabel shrieked back. Ford went silent. "I found Dipper!"

The elevator doors were already halfway closed when Stan heard his brother whisper to himself under his breath, staring dazedly at the shattered glass next to him. His mind was too distracted to try and decipher what Ford was saying.

Stanley burst out of the elevator and into the shop, a blast of cold air hitting him as he stepped out onto the dust ridden wood. His eyes were immediately drawn to the figure of his niece and nephew. The latter was lying on the floor lifelessly in a way that sent needles driving through his stomach.

He thundered across the room and laid two sweaty fingers to the young boy's neck. A few moments passed before he could let out a relieved sigh. A heartbeat, although slower than he would've hoped, jumped steadily beneath the boy's skin.

A small finger poked his side, "Grunkle Stan?"

He turned to face Mabel. Her dark brown eyes startled him with their innocence. With all Dipper and Mabel had been through in those past months, he sometimes forgot that in the end they were still just children. Very smart and creative, but still young.

"What is it?" he asked, trying to sound as comforting as possible.

"Is he going to be okay?"

Stan gave another quick glance at Dipper's frail figure and pale complexion before turning back to Mabel, "Of course he is. This is your brother we're talking about!" He ruffled her hair for good measure.

Mabel let out a light giggle. Her cheeks were rosy and stained with tears, but the light that seemed to accompany her everywhere never faded. Sometimes he wished he could look at the world the way she did. With such hopeful optimism.

Floorboards creaked and groaned as Ford stumbled out of the vending machine and into the gift shop. Stan didn't even bother to turn around, refusing to take his eyes off the sleeping boy. When he felt Ford approach he moved slightly closer, knowing full well that his brother would view this as more of a curiosity than a miracle.

"Alright." Stan cleared his throat, "Mabel, you go to the freezer 'n grab an ice pack, kid looks like he's breaking a fever. I'll carry him to the living room couch." She nodded energetically before taking off to the kitchen.

Stan tried to ignore his brother's questioning gaze as he lifted his nephew into his arms. The kid's pale skin was already burning up and a few stray beads of sweat hung from his chestnut brown curls. Despite the various patches of dirt and gravel layering Dipper's body he seemed to be free of any scratches or bumps. At least visible in that moment. Stan still took extra caution in the way he held him though, supporting his head and rump with the delicacy he normally only exercised around a cash register.

"Stanley." His brother's voice followed him into the living room. He ignored it.

"Stanley, you do realize how dangerous this all is right? This could be a trick. We don't know for sure if Bill is still—"

"All I know," he growled, "is that my nephew is alive and breathing, and that he single-handedly took down a wackjob chaos god with a few fancy words. I don't know about you, but I'd rather make sure he stays alive before I start assuming a bunch of shit."

Ford sighed.

Stan carefully laid Dipper on the couch, keeping his back to Ford the entire time, "You can ask him questions all you want later. Right now, I'm gonna focus on Dipper's health."

"I understand that but what if—"

"I got the ice!" Mabel catapulted into the room flinging around a plastic bag full of ice. She eagerly stepped over to her brother, who was now lying peacefully on the rundown couch, and placed the bag on his head, pushing aside his now soaked through bangs. Stan grimaced as he realized the boy's fever may have worsened.

"Mabel, how does his breathing look?" Ford asked. Stan shot him a dubious glance.

"Hmmm," she put on her most professional expression and lowered herself to Dipper's level, focusing and the rising and falling of his chest. "It looks kind of gaspy."

Ford took a step closer and kneeled down alongside her, checking Dipper's vitals and feeling his forehead. After a few moments he stood back up and turned to Stan, shocking him with an almost concerned expression. "He's breathing a bit heavily and running a high fever. His heartbeat is slow but that's to be expected in this state of sleep. Mabel," he turned to face her, "in what conditions did you find your brother?"

Mabel seemed to pause for a moment before speaking rapidly, "Well, I was walking through the forest and it started shaking a lot, and then there was this really bright blue light, kind of like the color of tooth paste," Ford's eyes widened slight before he nodded for her to continue, "and then I heard a cough so I started running towards it because I thought somebody might be in trouble. But when I got there I found this HUGE hole, like as big as a lake, and there was a bunch of toothpaste-colored smoke and stuff. But then I climbed down and I found Dipper lying there."

She paused and took a deep breath and Stan chuckled as he watched Ford struggle to keep up with her, "So then I picked him up bridal style and climbed back up the hole and ran back here. Well, more like jogged because Dipper's kind of heavy and I didn't want to drop him or anything. I think a few gnomes saw me along the way though, but they didn't try to come close for some reason."

"Fascinating. No wonder the energy levels in the area suddenly boosted, but what could have caused it…" Ford whispered. He began to mumble to himself with scientific terms that Stan was positive weren't English.

Stan rolled his eyes before turning to face his niece, "Well, I think the best thing to do right now is to let yer brother sleep. He looks like he's been through he- a lot. He did save the world after all."

Mabel grinned before turning to face her brother, moving tenderly in order to avoid waking him. She stared at him with a purely loving expression before gently planting a kiss directly on top of his constellation, smiling gently as she listened to his soft breaths. The scene was so utterly mushy and cliché Stan almost had to look away.

Were his eyes watering? Damn allergies.