A/N: For Brywnhi (BlackInkGhost on DeviantArt and paperhoodie on tumblr), as this was supposed to be a birthday present and turned into a collaboration; she beta'd this story and drew a beautiful cover for it, which you can see in its full glory on her DeviantArt page. Additional thanks to Cartwheellou for helping me through writing a punch. In terms of timelines, this is set post-series for both Gravity Falls and Over the Garden Wall. Standard disclaimers apply.

Mabel shrieked as she fell. It was just light enough for her to see Dipper skid to a halt in front of her, but she was already rolling over and kicking out, trying to free herself. Thorns cut into her skin, gripping her ankle and tightening as she tried to work the branch—vine—whatever—loose. The bramble kept tearing into her flesh, so she finally gave up fighting directly and settled for scooting backwards across the uneven ground. Her palms brushed something prickly and rough, and she flinched back. She didn't need her hands caught in a similar trap. Because this was a trap. The flora seemed to have a mind of its own in this place.

Mabel felt Dipper's arms wrap around her, even as tiny tendrils tried to curl around her fingertips. He managed to pull her free, finally snapping the bramble around her ankle in the process, and helped her to her feet. Mabel brushed some of the debris from her sweater, fingering its newest hole before deciding to ignore it.

She had about as easy a time with that as she did ignoring the blood that was seeping into her sock, the throbbing pain in her ankle, or the dull ache in her hands and knees where she'd hit the ground. But that would go away; she'd had to deal with worse than this before. The most important thing was finding some way out of these woods.

"Think you can walk?" asked Dipper.

Mabel put some weight on her foot and winced as pain shot up her leg, but she nodded. They didn't have a choice. If she hadn't lost her grappling hook after their tumble over that wall….

"We'll find our way out of here," Dipper said as if he were reading her thoughts. It wouldn't be the first time he'd managed that, and it wouldn't be the last. "This isn't the worst place he could have trapped us."

Mabel didn't need to ask who her brother was referring to. She knew they were thinking the same thing. She picked a branch out of her hair before it decided to come alive and try to strangle her. "He shouldn't have been able to do this. We erased him." But they'd erased Grunkle Stan's memories, too, and had been able to bring those back. What if they'd accidentally brought Bill back, too? What if that's why he'd been able to get Waddles to run away? What if he'd led Waddles here, wherever here was, to get the two of them hopelessly lost on a recovery mission? They hadn't even seen Waddles since coming into the woods.

Bill Cipher shouldn't be able to do any of this, not after how they'd left him.

"Maybe we just weakened him. Or maybe he'd made another deal, as a backup or something." She could recognize Dipper's grim tone; it was his 'focused' voice. "We can't worry about that now. We have to find our way out of here."

As if they knew how. These woods weren't like the ones in Oregon, and Mabel was pretty sure they weren't in California anymore. This place just felt wrong. It was like being trapped in Mabeland again once Dipper had exposed it for what it was, except that this place was more like a creepy nightmare than a place where everything appeared perfect at first glance.

She didn't think Waddles was here anymore. She wasn't even sure he ever had been; they hadn't found any tracks. She and Dipper had stopped calling for him when they'd gotten the feeling that they weren't alone, even though they hadn't seen anything besides trees.

"Let's see if we can find the path again," she decided. "Waddles is smart; he'll have found his way home by now." She wasn't convinced they'd find the elusive trail, wasn't sure they'd ever been on one, but they didn't need one. They could carve their own path out of this place if they had to. They were the Mystery Twins. It was going to take more than a couple of acres of spooky woodland to stop them. "And we'll be right behind him."

"So you can fix your sweater?"

Mabel grinned, not surprised Dipper had noticed her dismay. "So I can fix my sweater," she agreed happily. Bill Cipher's associations hadn't spoiled her love for her shooting star sweater, so she certainly wasn't going to let something like this be the end of it. "And then put the finishing touches on my Summerween costume so it'll be ready by the time we get there." It felt good to have something like that to look forward to, and tomorrow's trip back to Gravity Falls was bound to bring another adventure.

Dipper was looking forward to it, too, if not for the same reasons as Mabel. He'd rather have a long discussion with Fiddleford than prank Pacifica, but it would be good to see everyone either way. Dipper hummed his agreement and started forward, keeping his arm around her for support. She gratefully leaned on him. These woods…. Yeah. There was definitely something wrong with them. It was enough to remind her that they weren't in Gravity Falls and weren't yet surrounded with all their friends and allies. This place looked like a proper forest, and it smelled like one, and it had felt like one when she'd been introduced to the forest floor, but it didn't sound like it should.

It was quieter here than she was used to. No birdsong. No crickets. No frogs. Just the odd howling of the wind, a faint swoosh of leaves, a creaking branch here and there, and a suspicious rustle in the underbrush that she'd call gnomes if she didn't know better. It was gloomy, too, as if it were dusk fading to darkness when it should be closer to noon. Of course, most of these trees had dropped their leaves, as if it were autumn and not the middle of summer, so that wasn't really surprising. It was just another clue that they weren't in the real world anymore.

That didn't mean this wasn't real, of course. Just that it was a construct. Or another dimension. Or both.

It seemed to be getting darker as they moved deeper into the woods, and she couldn't tell if that was because the trees were getting thicker or because that much time was passing. She really had no idea how long they had been gone. If they had actually ended up in the same place as Waddles, he could've led them out of here. Waddles was a good pig like that. A lot smarter than most people thought. She almost wished he were here, except she didn't want him to be in danger.

The dangers in this place might not be easy to see, but she knew they were there. She trusted her instincts. It was more than just the trees, whatever the trees were. If this place was real, then it didn't follow the rules she knew to be true, which probably meant she couldn't trust her eyes or, really, any of her other senses. And if it wasn't real…. Well, if it wasn't, then she really couldn't trust anything to be what it seemed, not when it could be whatever Bill wanted it to be. She'd have to depend on her gut.

"Dipper?"

"Yeah?"

"What if he set this up before? What if we just, I dunno, turned it on somehow? Triggered it? Made it come to life, even if he's not here?"

"We're not going to be stuck here." Dipper sounded more confident than he was, and anyone who didn't know him well might have actually believed him. "Look up ahead. Isn't that a light?"

It did seem to be one, shining brighter than the moon and not dancing about like a will-o'-the-wisp. Still a trap, her mind whispered, but they didn't have any choice, and Dipper was taking precautions. He adjusted their course so that they angled toward the light from the left instead of coming at it directly; it was better to scout it out first if possible. Progress was slower than before, and not much quieter even though they were being careful, but at least the trees weren't trying to grab them now. Whatever that had been, it seemed to be over.

That, or the trees—or whatever sentience was behind them—were just biding their time and waiting for them to make a mistake. Or they'd been deliberately herded here. She wasn't going to rule out anything at the moment.

It took a good ten minutes longer than Mabel had expected, but finally the forest thinned and spilled out onto the shore of an endless expanse of black water. A lake, maybe, since it looked as still as glass. It reflected a perfect twin of the true source of the light, a lantern hung on a pole held by a boy in a funny red hat. He looked a bit like a giant gnome, actually, just minus the beard, especially in that old-fashioned cloak of his. He had been resting on the gunwale of a wooden rowboat pulled up on shore, but when they approached, he straightened, standing taller than either of them.

He didn't seem surprised to see them.

Still, he was the first person they'd seen in forever, and he was kinda cute. Even as Dipper tensed, Mabel got straight to the point. "Can you point us to the nearest road?"

"This is the closest you'll come to a crossroads here," the boy said. "This is the In-Between."

"In between what?" Mabel asked, still trying to figure out when the inevitable trap was going to be sprung.

The boy shifted, turning to look just at her instead of both of them, and she shivered as his gaze pierced through her. Scratch cute. Something about him—like everything else—was wrong, and she couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it immediately. His stare was cold. Dead, almost, if it weren't for that intense focus. There might as well have been demon eyes staring out at her from his face. Not Bill's eyes, but…something else's. Someone else's. Which definitely wasn't impossible because Bill definitely had friends, or at least interdimensional creatures that he pretended were friends so he could attempt to manipulate them.

The boy's answer didn't convince Mabel he wasn't possessed or completely composed of magic or dream dust stuff in the first place. "You stand at the edge of the Unknown."

A glance told Mabel that Dipper wasn't getting this, either, and he was the smarter of the two of them. She hoped he'd figure something out sooner rather than later. She gave the boy a brilliant smile, letting the lamplight catch on and reflect off her braces. "So how about you tell us how to get back to the Known, handsome?"

Her charms had no apparent effect. "That is a choice only you can make."

Mabel frowned; that answer didn't make any sense to her. She turned back to Dipper, leaning in to whisper into his ear. "Something about this guy stinks. Is he even real?"

Dipper didn't answer her, which probably meant he hadn't figured that out yet. "What are the options?"

One of the options had to be the boat, which had definitely seen better days. It didn't look like it could fit three of them. She wasn't even sure it would hold one without sinking. They shouldn't need to cross this lake since they'd never crossed one in the first place, but if this was one of Bill's traps, then they were less likely to die if they played along until figuring out the best way to bust out of here.

She concentrated on the boat for a few long seconds, imagining it sprouting a mast and sail and everything else, but absolutely nothing changed. Wherever they were, imagining things didn't make them real. That wouldn't make escaping any easier, but it had been worth a shot.

The boy's head swivelled towards Dipper. "You can cross," he said, gesturing with his free hand to the lake behind him, "or you can stay."

Mabel had a feeling they weren't going to be picking either of those options. Dipper liked to figure out what the rules were and then break them; she saw no problem with that, even though she was just as happy to charge in without a plan. Still, Dipper continued the conversation as if they were perfectly content to play along. As if they'd never been tricked by a demon before. "Why would we cross if we're trying to get home? We didn't come from that direction."

"Are you sure?" There was amusement in the boy's voice this time, a sort of dark gloating as if he were confident that he knew far more than they. "You've lost the path and lost your way, and the forest is not kind."

"This is the first time we've seen the lake," Mabel interjected.

"Is it really?" The boy's head cocked to one side as he asked, and suddenly Mabel doubted herself, doubted Dipper. What if they'd gotten turned around at one point? They could have walked along the lake's shore before and not realized it was there. The trees were thick, and with no wind, there was no sound of lapping water.

Except.

Except she could still hear the wind, moaning through groaning trees and skittering about loose leaves, and she could see it catching the boy's cloak as readily as it caught her own hair, and she could feel the cold biting in gusts through her sweater.

But the lake was still.

She took a step back, only remembering her injured ankle as pain spiked upwards to her knee. "Dipper—"

"I know." Dipper hadn't kept step with her, but he let her go and she watched as his hands balled into fists. He felt this, too. It wasn't just her. And after helping her along, he knew she wouldn't be able to outrun this guy if it came to that.

"Look, whoever you are," Dipper said to the boy, "if you're not going to help us, what are you doing? Trying to stall us?"

Mabel hadn't been expecting an answer, but the boy's face split into a too-wide grin. "I keep watch for lost souls," he said. "Keep the lantern lit. Guard the woods. Help you to cross, if that's your deci—"

Dipper's fist caught the boy on the corner of his jaw. The boy's head snapped sideways and he stumbled back, one of his flailing arms catching the lantern pole as he fell into the boat and cracked his head on the side. Mabel lunged forward to catch the falling lantern before it hit the water; it was almost completely dark out now, and clouding over to boot, so the lantern was their best source of light. She climbed carefully to her feet, not wanting to put so much as a toe in that water, and turned back to Dipper, who was cradling his left hand.

"I forgot how much this hurts," he hissed, wincing as he straightened his fingers. "I think I might've broken something." He didn't mean that, though; she could see him wriggling his fingers, and this wasn't Dipper's first time in a fistfight anyway. It probably wouldn't be his last.

Sure enough, Dipper's arm snaked around to support her a second later. "C'mon, we need to go. Can you keep hold of the light or do you want me to carry it?"

Mabel shrugged him off, lifting the lantern higher to get a better look at the boy who was sprawled across two seats and a pair of oars. "He's out cold," she said. "We don't need to run away before we have answers."

"Mabel—"

"It's not like we'd make it far with the lantern, anyway. He could follow the light. But look at him, Dip. He looks young. Like us. What's to say he isn't human, too?"

"I don't know, maybe the way he was acting? Or talking? Or the fact that he's here in the first place?" Dipper threw up his hands. "What's it matter? You even said you didn't think he was real!"

"That was before you caught him by surprise, and between you and the boat, you knocked him out. Demons aren't that easy to take down, and neither are their creations." She waited a few seconds to see if the boy would move. He didn't. "I don't think he's faking. He hit his head pretty hard on the boat."

Dipper didn't look convinced. "He isn't real."

"But what if he is? What if he's just trapped here? Like we are? Do you really want to leave him here?"

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Mabel, none of this is real. Why would he be?"

"He's here, and no one else seems to be." Dipper opened his mouth, but Mabel cut him off. "That alone would raise flags, so why not create a more welcoming situation if you were trying to trap someone? He didn't exactly lull either of us into a false sense of security." Unless that's what this is, her mind whispered, but she ignored it. This was one of the times it was better to follow your heart than your head. If they could help, she didn't want to just leave someone here. "And even if he was possessed earlier, he might not be now. Limitations of the human body, remember?"

"I got possessed one time!"

"You made a mistake. Maybe he did, too." She pointed at his hat, which had landed at their feet. "Grab that for me, will you?"

Dipper frowned but did so, handing it to her. Mabel inspected it for a moment, noting its fraying hem and other imperfections she wouldn't expect to see from a mere fabrication. Bill hadn't given everyone in Mabeland flaws, and she was pretty sure that wasn't just because it was meant to be perfect. He hadn't spent enough time in their world to know the little sorts of details to look for when it came to making stuff real.

But this? This was real. She was confident in that. Bill's hat and tie had been more illusion than reality, altering or regenerating as necessary. They hadn't ever shown wear. But this had character, had a story behind it…a story that might only be known to the boy who had been wearing it.

"This is missing its outer trim," she said quietly. "You can see where someone's been at it with scissors. It might be an old Santa hat." She looked back at Dipper. "It's definitely not the quality I'd expect from someone like him." Dipper would know who she meant; that was one of the reasons he was so eager to get out of here. And she understood that, she did, but she also trusted her gut. "I don't think this guy's our enemy, bro-bro. I think he's in the same boat as us. And he might have more answers than we do."

Dipper stared at her, but he knew when she'd made up her mind. He also knew how often he was actually successful in changing it. "I'm not getting in that boat," Dipper muttered finally, but he reached over to shake the boy awake.

The boy groaned as Dipper's prodding pulled him back to reality. His eyes opened, quickly closed, and then slowly blinked open again. A trace of confusion crossed his features before he pushed himself upwards with a muttered curse, one hand tentatively touching the back of his head and his jaw in turn. He looked at the two of them with suspicion—not unexpected, given where they were. Wherever this was. "Where's Greg?" he asked, his voice sounding more natural this time, less…less demon-y. No gloating smugness or vague threats, just sincere concern, a healthy helping of wariness, and a touch of fear. "Who are you guys? And where…." His voice trailed off, and his eyes grew wide.

Mabel noticed he was staring at the lantern she held. The blood had drained from his face and he swayed where he sat, rocking the boat. Dipper reached out to steady him, and the boy flinched away, regaining some of his composure even though he still looked like a ghost.

"I'm Mabel," she said, taking pity on him. "That's Dipper. We were looking for Waddles. He's my pig. I'm guessing you haven't seen him."

"I'm Wirt," the boy whispered. He was still fixated on the light. "Where did you get that lantern?"

"From you." She held out his hat. "This is yours, too."

Another flash of fear. She wondered if the hat itself was somehow tied to whatever had been possessing him, but he climbed out of the boat with Dipper's help and took the hat back. He clutched it tightly in one hand and opened his cloak with the other, staring at his clothes with growing confusion. "This is my Halloween costume."

He hadn't spoken loudly enough to be directing that comment at them, but Mabel flashed him another smile as if he had. "You mean Summerween costume. Halloween was ages ago, but Summerween's next week!"

Dipper caught her eye and shook his head. Mabel stuck her tongue out at him in return. Dipper, of all people, shouldn't point fingers when it came to accidentally agreeing to demonic possession. The boy—Wirt—probably hadn't realized what he was doing. Sure, she didn't have solid proof that he'd been possessed, but it seemed like a pretty good guess, and the fact that Dipper wasn't grabbing her and trying to run meant that he thought so, too, and was willing to give the boy a bit of rope. He'd have a chance to prove he was the human boy he seemed to be, and they'd watch to see if the demon—if he was still a demon, which was undoubtedly Dipper's view even if it wasn't hers—accidentally hanged himself in the meantime.

Still, as far as she could tell, whatever demon had been possessing Wirt had been forced back into the astral plane, and his real spirit had taken the opportunity to reclaim his body. The apparent amnesia was new, admittedly, but it wasn't a stretch to think that the effects of demonic possession differed depending on which demon was actually doing the possessing.

Or maybe the demon had just been controlling him and not full-out possessing him? Just planting suggestions or using him more like a marionette than a sock puppet? That might explain the amnesia. She'd have to ask Dipper when this was over. She didn't want to scare the poor boy off when he'd just regained his senses.

Wirt looked between the two of them before turning in a slow circle, even though he wouldn't be able to see much beyond the circle of light cast by the lantern. "Is Greg still here? What about Beatrice?"

"You're the first person we've seen," Dipper said. "And I know you must be worried about Greg and Beatrice, but this is important. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I'd promised to take Greg for ice cream," Wirt said slowly, "so we went, and then we ran into Sara and…." He shrugged helplessly, spreading his hands. "I put my foot in my mouth, I guess, but she was really nice about it, and…. I dunno. She was going to come back to our place. To listen to some music. It's a thing we do."

"But this was on Halloween?" Dipper prompted.

Wirt started to shake his head, winced, and said, "No, it's summer." He looked out at the bare trees, at the leaves rustling on the ground, and shuddered as the wind curled its icy fingers around him. "It's supposed to be summer." He shoved the hat back onto his head. "Halloween was months ago. It's supposed to be over."

Dipper's eyes narrowed. "What's supposed to be over? Did you run into anyone—anything—strange on Halloween? Did you make any deals?"

"I don't…." Wirt wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. "This doesn't matter. I can't stay here. I need to find Greg. I'm responsible for him."

Dipper caught his arm as he started to move away. "Did you make any deals?" he repeated. "Anything that might be taken as a deal?"

"Or would anyone have made one on your behalf?" Mabel added. "That could've happened if you ever told someone they could make a decision for you."

Wirt just stared at them, so Dipper released him in favour of pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look," he said, "I know this sounds crazy, but demons are real. And Mabel and I, we think that's why you're here. You must have made a deal with one because you weren't yourself when we came across you. You were—"

"You were all spooky," Mabel interrupted. "Smiling too wide, saying vague, menacing things. All 'this is the In-Between' and 'you stand at the edge of the Unknown' as if that explains anything."

From the look on Wirt's face, he didn't appreciate her accompanying hand gestures and facial expressions. But the names also sounded familiar to him, unless she'd misjudged that flicker of recognition in his eye.

Dipper hadn't missed it, either. "Does that make sense to you?"

"I can't be back here," Wirt said. "I can't still be here. You were talking about deals, right? The Beast offered me one, but I didn't take it. Greg…. Look. You've got to understand. He was turning into Edelwood. The forest was consuming his soul or claiming it or something like that, so the Beast offered to take his soul and put it in the lantern instead. Then, as long as I kept it lit, Greg wouldn't be gone. I mean, for a second, I was tempted, but then I thought about it, and that's dumb, isn't it? To wander around these woods forever, trying to keep a lantern lit? So no. I didn't take the deal. Beatrice and I freed Greg, I gave Beatrice the scissors she needed, and Greg and I got out of there. Out of here."

"Wait, Greg's your brother, right? So who's Beatrice? Why did she need scissors if you were stuck in the woods? Or were they a special pair of scissors? And what's Edelwood? And—"

"What do you mean by the Beast?" Dipper cut in, overriding Mabel's questions.

"Just…the Beast." Wirt spread his hands, as if the name explained everything. "I think he's the one who turns people—lost souls—into trees. Into Edelwood. So their oil can keep the lantern lit. But he's gone. It was his soul in the lantern all along. When I figured that out, the Woodsman blew it out."

"Are you sure?" Dipper asked. "It's usually not that easy to get rid of a demon."

Wirt crossed his arms. "We got the one out of Lorna easily enough once we realized. Who are you two, anyway? Why are you such an authority on demons?"

"We saved the world by stopping Weirdmageddon," Mabel said, enjoying as confusion settled back onto Wirt's face. "Not just us, of course. We had help, and Grunkle Stan was the real hero. But believe me, if that triangle had gotten his way, somewhere like this—" she waved her free hand at their surroundings "—would be downright normal."

"We think he's behind us being here," added Dipper. "Maybe he got to you, too, if it wasn't this Beast you mentioned." He frowned. "You said lost souls were turned into this Edelwood, right? So they were consumed by the forest to feed the Beast? Did you offer to switch places with Greg once you realized what was happening to him?"

"No," Wirt said, sounding as if that was the stupidest idea he'd ever heard, "I just tried to pull him free."

Mabel looked at Dipper and realized what he was thinking. "But Greg is your brother." Wirt hadn't denied that assumption, at least. "So what if…what if he found you turning into a tree and couldn't free you? What if he offered to switch places with you? What if that's why he was in that position in the first place?"

"Freeing him would have broken the terms of the deal he'd made, rendering it null," Dipper agreed. "That could be why you're here."

"That's crazy," Wirt said, but he didn't sound convinced. "Greg just ran off."

"Are you sure? Even if he woke up and saw you being turned into kindling?" Mabel looked over at Dipper; she was speaking to him as much as she was to Wirt. "I'd offer to trade places if it were my brother and it was the only way to free him. And Grunkle Stan offered to trade places with Grunkle Ford, even knowing what that would mean. And Dipper and I, we're…." This time, she wasn't shivering because of the wind. "The demon we think trapped us here. He shouldn't have been able to do that. But we tried to save Grunkle Stan, to bring his memories back, so maybe we brought back a piece of Bill Cipher, too."

It was the first time she'd spoken his name since coming here, and she half-expected him to appear, but the world seemed empty but for the three of them.

Wirt was the one to break the stretching silence. He took the lantern back from Mabel. "I never made any deals, and I don't know anything about some Bill Cipher, but if everything that I remember happening since Halloween is a lie, I need to find Greg. I need to—" His voice hitched. "I need to make sure he's safe."

That he's not a tree. That's what Wirt meant. But pointing it out wouldn't make him feel any better. "So do you know where we are?"

Wirt hesitated. "Not exactly. I don't remember being in this part of the woods. But I'm more likely to recognize a landmark than you are."

"What landmark?" Dipper muttered as he walked back to Mabel. He offered her the abandoned lantern pole to use as a walking stick, and she took it, deciding she couldn't afford to be picky until she could run again.

"Another cursed body of water, maybe," Mabel said under her breath, taking one last glance at the black lake.

Dipper huffed in reply. She knew he didn't like this situation. He didn't trust Wirt. He definitely didn't trust that Bill wasn't behind this or that whatever demon had been possessing Wirt was actually gone.

Wirt held the lantern high overhead, and they stayed just within its light. Dipper started mumbling to himself within minutes, and after a while, Mabel asked him what he was going on about. "If we're right," he said in a low voice, "about his brother making a deal, then shouldn't he be a tree right now?"

"He told us what he knows," Mabel pointed out, "not necessarily what's actually the truth. Maybe he's more useful to the demon this way. Maybe he's supposed to get us hopelessly lost so we turn into trees, and then he'll go back to waiting for someone to show up. He might not even realize he's doing this, though. Maybe he flips back and forth every time people show up, just so he can show a side to them that they'll trust."

Dipper groaned. "I don't want to think about him having a standing invitation to be possessed, but you could be right. If there's really oil in that lantern, someone must have filled it recently."

They had two obvious options: stay with Wirt or make a break for it. Mabel grimaced, not liking either one, and whispered, "Do you think this Beast is the one possessing him? Do you think he's the one in the lantern now?"

"The lantern was lit before, and it never went out," countered Dipper. "If the whole thing about keeping souls in it is true, it's not necessarily the demon's soul in there."

"His brother's? Or that other person's?"

"Beatrice," Dipper supplied absently. "Or his, if this is all just an act."

"I don't think it's an act. He seems genuine."

"Everyone does until you find out the truth." Then, louder, Dipper called, "Are we just going to wander around in circles?"

Wirt stopped and rounded on them. "I'm not deaf, you know. I can hear you talking about me. I'm not possessed, okay? Whatever that was…. It's over now."

"How can you be sure about that if you thought you were living your life back in the material plane until we found you?"

Wirt stared at Dipper for a long moment before his shoulders slumped and he let his arm drop, shrinking their circle of light. "Everything had worked out," he said softly. "Beatrice had the scissors she needed to change everyone back. The Beast was gone, and the Woodsman was free of his burden. And Greg and I were home. I mean, we were in the hospital at first, but we were back. And we lived our lives. How can none of that be real?"

"You can be shown what you want to see," Mabel said quietly. "I know that better than anyone. Nice illusions make the best traps. If you think everything is fine, you're never going to fight it. You'd never think to fight it."

"And in the meantime," Dipper continued, "you're really here, acting as a puppet for the Beast and making sure lost children stay lost. And making sure the lantern keeps burning."

The light trembled as Wirt's hand shook. "So you think Greg's gone."

Mabel nudged Dipper and limped back into the circle of light. "We haven't seen anyone else, remember? Your brother might really have made it home. Maybe he made it because you stayed here." Seeing the look of dismay on Wirt's face, Mabel added, "I don't mean you need to keep staying here, silly! Just that you probably did help your brother get home. And if he knows you're here, he's probably doing everything in his power to get you back." She smiled. "We can help with that."

"How?"

Mabel didn't actually know how. She was just confident they could help. If you didn't believe you could do something, you'd never get it done. "Let's just prove to you that your brother's not a tree first," she said instead, "so you stop worrying about that."

Wirt frowned, maybe because she'd dodged his question. Rather than calling her on it, though, he admitted, "I'm not sure I can find the right spot. Not if it's been months. And not…not if the lantern's been burning all that time. His tree might have been cut down already."

"You can't think like that," Mabel exclaimed. "You have to believe he's fine and that you'll get out of here." Remembering what he'd said about this place, she added, "We're not going to turn into trees, not if it's only lost souls who do that. We're not lost if we just haven't gotten to where we're going yet."

"But I'm not even sure I know where I am!"

She grinned. "That's what makes it fun. Like a game. First person to figure out where we are wins!"

"But you don't—"

"Close your eyes," she commanded.

"What?"

"Close your eyes and spin around. I'd do it, but my ankle still hurts. Close your eyes and spin around and when you stop, we'll go in whichever direction you're facing. Then it'll be random, so Dipper can't say you're trying to lead us somewhere, and if you're not sure which is the best way to be going anyway, we're just as likely to be going in the right direction."

Wirt just gaped at her, even as Dipper sighed and closed his eyes and began to spin. He flung out his arm as he stopped, pointing to her left. "Let's go that way. I'll lead." He took the lantern in his right hand and struck out before Wirt could form a coherent protest.

"It's best not to overthink things," Mabel confided as she grabbed Wirt's hand to pull him along, "especially when you're up against a demon that likes mind games. I don't think you need to worry about being controlled by the Beast anymore, though. If he could've controlled you again without any trouble, he would have done it already."

"Thanks. I think."

Now that he wasn't possessed or being controlled or whatever anymore, Mabel liked being with Wirt. He reminded her a bit of Dipper, and the woods seemed less scary now that he was with them. They were less alone, and now they had someone else to fight for. She felt sorry that he'd been separated from his brother, but that just made her more determined to get them all out of here. They'd figure something out, just as soon as Wirt knew for certain that his brother was out there waiting for him to come back.

"I think there's a cabin up ahead," Dipper called after about fifteen minutes of ducking under branches and jumping fallen logs (or, in Mabel's case, sliding over with Wirt's help).

Wirt quickened his step at Dipper's words and reclaimed the lantern, raising it high and striding forward so fast that Mabel had to scramble to keep up. "That's the Woodsman's house!"

The house looked abandoned, but Wirt didn't stop to examine it. He was familiar with this part of the woods, skirting a river and heading past what might have once been a mill in favour of the trees on the other side of the clearing. Judging by how fast he was moving, he was close to where he'd seen Greg being turned into Edelwood. Mabel wasn't really surprised when, less than five minutes later, Wirt came to an abrupt stop and dropped to his knees.

"There's no tree here," he said when Mabel and Dipper finally caught up to him.

"More importantly," Dipper said as he knelt to run his hand over the ground, "there's no sign of a stump, either. If this is the place, then you're right. You freed your brother." He got back to his feet and pulled Wirt up. "So now we just need to free you."

Wirt bit his lip. "I still don't think I made a deal with the Beast, but Greg…. On our last day, before he ran off, he was trying to be a leader. He was certain we'd get home. He hadn't given up hope. But I had, even after the Woodsman had told me it was my responsibility to get us out of here. So maybe you're right. Maybe the Beast had laid claim to me. And maybe Greg…. Maybe he did save me. Or try to." He swallowed and looked at them. "So doesn't that mean, if I'm here now, that I can't leave without trading places with Greg again? He doesn't deserve that. I'd rather stay."

"You don't need to. We're getting you out of here," Mabel promised. "Right, bro-bro?"

"Right." Dipper started to pace, walking in a tight circle around them. "But unless the Beast shows himself, we can't renegotiate the terms of your contract. And we can't just break it without repercussions. Which means we need to find a loophole."

"But I didn't make a contract! I just…I just thought, for a little while, that we were lost for good."

"Which is why you were. Because you gave up hope." Mabel looked at Dipper to make sure she was right, and when he nodded, she continued, "But now you have something to fight for. You don't have to guard the woods, keep watch for lost souls, or ferry people across to the far shore."

Dipper stopped. "Keeping the lantern lit," he said. "That was the other thing you said you did."

Wirt shifted on his feet. "I really hope you're wrong about that."

"Your words, not ours. But we can work with that." Dipper smiled. "You said you thought the Beast's soul was tied to the lantern, right? And that the Woodsman had blown it out?"

"Yes, but—"

Dipper held up a finger. "If you were right all along, then that's your loophole."

Wirt blinked at him.

Mabel didn't get it, either.

"Isn't that when everything started shifting for you?" Dipper asked. "When you thought you'd finally managed to get home? Wasn't it after you'd said that?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then that's when it started. The Beast controlling you. Maybe he wasn't really possessing you, but he wouldn't need to be in you to control you if you already belonged to him. The moment you became a lost soul, you became his property. Think of it more like an implicit contract rather than a deliberate deal. And if you really had discovered his weakness and the Woodsman was willing to blow out the lantern, then the Beast would want to prevent that. That's when you would've become more useful to him as a puppet than as a tree to be fed to the lantern."

"Because if the Woodsman was willing to blow out the lantern," Mabel realized, "then that means he knew the Beast had tricked him into keeping it lit. And the Beast needed someone to stop the Woodsman from blowing it out—or to light it again before it was too late—and then to keep the lantern trimmed and burning."

"Clever, aren't you?" The voice was coming from Wirt's mouth, but it wasn't entirely his anymore. "Pity cleverness won't help you find your way home."

Mabel jerked, but the events of the previous summer and her extracurricular activities since had quickened her reaction time. She swung the pole-turned-walking-stick at Wirt, hard, even as he moved toward Dipper. Toward the lantern.

Dipper had been standing between Wirt and the lantern, but he must have been expecting something like this because he had already dropped. Since Wirt had leapt forward to grapple Dipper, the pole swung high. Mabel took a step to try to keep her balance and crumpled when her ankle gave out.

Dipper's hat was gone. Wirt was already on him, and as Mabel watched, Wirt grabbed a fistful of Dipper's hair and yanked his head back. Away from the lantern. Dipper yelled and fought, trying to wriggle and wrestle his way out, but Wirt was stronger than he looked. At some point, Dipper had managed to open the door on the lantern, and now he simply seemed to be trying to free a hand to knock over the lantern before Wirt had secured his hold well enough to take it.

Which meant Dipper was being an excellent distraction, and she had time to get back on her feet and gain some leverage.

Wirt—not-Wirt—ignored her.

That was his mistake.

He must never have had to deal with siblings before, let alone twins. The real Wirt wouldn't have made such a foolish mistake since had a brother. The real Wirt would have known better than to discount her. Because if she could take out Wirt from here, she didn't need to expose herself by running for the lantern and just giving him a new target. They could try to wear him out by switching off, but it was much easier to just knock him out again, especially when she doubted she could run far.

Mabel steadied herself, hefted the pole, and aimed for his temple.

He ducked.

There was still a shriek and a sickening crack as the pole connected.

She dropped the pole and lurched forward as Dipper's screams filled her ears. His arm was bent at an unnatural angle behind his back. Somehow, Wirt had anticipated her and wrenched Dipper's arm from its socket, holding it up in the path of the pole, and then she'd…she'd….

Wirt was already reaching for the lantern.

Dipper had stopped struggling, curling in on himself in the pain. No. No one was allowed to hurt her brother like that. Mabel roared and flung herself forward, reaching out for the lantern. She just had to beat Wirt to it. She couldn't let him get it back, not after what he had done. Whatever demon possessed him, controlled him, whatever— She wasn't about to let it win. She couldn't.

Her fingers hit hot glass a second before his could clasp the lantern's handle.

The lantern tipped.

Rolled.

Lay open just as another gust of wind blew through the clearing.

The light inside flared.

And then it went out.

A/N: Complete for now but may be continued if there's enough interest.