The only light in the small clearing was the purple glow from Pacifica's amulet. Gideon didn't have his amulet activated; he was sitting sulkily against the cliff face. Pacifica still found it hilarious how Bill had treated the Northwest.

She wondered if she should clean up the sacrifice. She looked down at it, then up at the pine boughs above. Well, there was a way to clean up without getting dirty herself.

Pacifica levitated the money out of the sacrificial pile — a little more money never hurt, and Stanford probably wouldn't want it back with the blood on it, anyway — and put it to the side along with the candles. The gloves, the axo-whatever, and the spray-painted Cipher Wheel stayed. Pacifica stepped aside, cresting the small hill to get out of the way.

"Hey, wait," Gideon said, standing up and following after her. "Where are you going?"

The tree branches above him glowed purple and shook, dumping their snow directly onto Gideon's head. He cried out, but it was too late. The snow hit him full-on, bouncing off his head and coating his arms. He spluttered, pushing it off of himself, while Pacifica shook with laughter.

"Paz!" Gideon yelled. "What was that for?"

It took Pacifica a moment to catch her breath. "You — just happened — to be there — at the right time!"

Gideon brushed the rest of the snow off of him, then stomped toward her.

"Wait!" Pacifica called. "Make sure the snow covers the sacrifice. That's why I brought it down in the first place. So even if someone finds it after the snow melts, it'll be unrecognizable."

Gideon rolled his eyes but did as she said, using his feet and his amulet to smooth the snow over the area. Pacifica nodded in satisfaction. It looked like they hadn't even been here.

Gideon tromped up the hill to Pacifica. "You do realize," he said, "that Bill probably won't find anything."

Pacifica had considered it; using one of Stanford's employees wasn't the most fool-proof of plans. "I have a Plan B," she replied.

Gideon raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"Take the deed by force, of course. This was fun, but I'm not going to wait for Bill to tell me that he failed. I'll go kidnap Stanford and force him to hand his property over to me. And you can get information about his Journals."

She had expected Gideon to be excited, if not fall to his knees and praise her for her genius. Instead, he only sighed. "Have fun with that." He started walking away.

"Wait a minute," Pacifica said, following him. "Don't you want to torture Stanford?"

"No," Gideon said flatly.

Huh. He must be having a bad day.

"All right, fine," Pacifica said. "I'll have all the fun. I'll put in a word about those Journals, if you want."

"No," Gideon repeated, this time immediately. "Get the property, and then I'll search for the Journal. I'm not going to ask Stanford about it."

Pacifica shrugged in agreement.

Gideon turned to leave again, then turned back. "Pacifica. . ."

"What?"

"Stanford isn't some. . . townsperson," he said. "He's an experienced paranormal researcher, and he may very well be able to hold himself against you."

The nerve of him! Pacifica drew herself up to her full height. "Stanford Pines is a sorry old man who will have no choice but to bend to my will," she declared. "If you're not going to join me in ensuring that, then don't make comments about it."

Gideon sighed, as if he'd expected this reaction. "All right. If you're confident about it." He walked away again. "Contact me when I can come search for the Journal," he called over his shoulder.

How rude. Pacifica waited until he was gone before indulging herself: She made a frustrated noise and stomped her foot in the snow.

Partners indeed.

~~~~~

"Are you sure you don't have mind powers that can get us through this faster?" Dipper asked as he stepped awkwardly over a gigantic tree root.

"No," the Robconscious replied. "Not in memory like this."

"But," Mabel cut in as she side-stepped around a low branch, "isn't this whole area a mental projection in the first place? A metaphysical representation of your memories?"

"Yes," the Robconscious said, "and I do have some 'mind powers', as Dipper put it, but the four of us are also metaphysical representations. As long as I'm projecting a form like this, and as long as you're a foreign object in this mind, you have to follow the physical laws like you're used to."

Mabel frowned. That didn't make very much sense. "But that's not how dreams work."

"This isn't a dream. If you recall, you're invading my mind."

"Hey, Bill invaded your mind," Dipper said. "We just followed him."

The Robconscious sighed but didn't say anything. Mabel glanced over at Wendy, who was unnaturally quiet as she trudged through the tangled forest. The hole in her abdomen was still there, showing the area behind her.

The forest of memories was certainly a peculiar place. Huge trunks, as wide as cars, sprang up from gnarled roots that broke up the forest floor, making every step treacherous. Branches stuck out at every angle from any area on the trunk, but the biggest concentration was higher up: Every tree had huge canopies of branches that knotted together to create an eerie ceiling above. There were no leaves to be seen.

Though the trees and forest floor were all in greyscale, there were brightly colored patches of air that hung off branches, hovered over roots, or fastened themselves to the tree trunk. These, when one looked closer, were memories, and they were the leaves and foliage of the forest.

At first, Dipper and Mabel had stopped and gawked at every memory they had passed. They were bright and vivid, with sounds the twins could hear if they leaned in. The memories depicted a young Robbie running through the forest, playing with other kids, and making faces at a young Wendy. Before long, the Robconscious had given them an irritable look and told them to focus on the task at hand.

As they walked, the forest got less and less dense, and the Robbie in the memories got older and older. Mabel glanced at a memory that was draped over a branch, like a TV screen made of mercury. In it, Robbie was maybe twelve years old and was riding a skateboard.

"If you'll notice," the Robconscious said, "my memories have gotten a lot more orderly now that we're in my tween years."

"Yeah, they used to look like Salvador Dali clocks," Mabel said absently as she stepped over a tree root. Robbie and Wendy stared at her, and her face turned red. "Never mind," she mumbled.

Funny how walking quietly through an eerie forest for twenty minutes could diminish one's confidence.

The walk — although "walk" was a mild term for the constant ducking and side-stepping involved — went on for another five minutes or so in awkward silence. The sound of wind whistled through nonexistent leaves. It was unnatural, but it was background noise, and Mabel was used to it by now.

The Robconscious suddenly stopped. "He's up ahead."

Their awkward procession stumbled to a halt. "Bill?" Dipper asked.

The Robconscious nodded. "Right now, we're in my memories of about six months ago. Bill is about ten yards ahead of us, searching through my memories of three months ago." He scowled as he said it, as if even mentioning Bill's invasion of privacy made him angry.

"How do you know?" Mabel blurted. A half second after it had come out of her mouth, she knew the answer to her question. It was his mind, after all. "Never mind," she repeated, wondering why she was acting like an idiot after that burst of confidence earlier. Good things could only last so long, she supposed.

The Robconscious let her question slide. "We can't go barging in all together. I would go by myself, but he might be able to sense my attention easily, since it's my head. Dipper, will you come with me?"

Dipper looked surprised for a second, then nodded. "Sure. What exactly would we be doing?"

"Spying," the Robconscious replied. "Checking to see where the demon's progress is, if he looks frustrated at all, that kind of thing. Mabel and Wen, you guys stay here — out of sight, just in case." Then he frowned. "Will you two be okay together?"

Mabel bit her lip; but to her surprise, Wendy answered him. "Sure we will," she said, not happy but not sarcastic, either. Mabel would rather not be left alone with Wendy, but the older teen seemed to be fine with it. Huh. Maybe Mabel hadn't been the only one to be strangely affected by this trip.

"All right then," the Robconscious said. "Dipper, can you be stealthy?"

"Only when he really wants to be," Mabel answered for her twin.

"I want to be!" Dipper protested, a bit too loud. He covered his mouth. "I mean, yes," he said quietly.

The Robconscious smiled. "I trust you, man. Let's go."

With that, Dipper and Robbie slipped away, and Mabel was left alone with Wendy.

Mabel tried to look preoccupied by studying a memory of Robbie at his driving test. Maybe they could just sit here in awkward silence the whole time. Maybe—

"You know what's funny?" Wendy asked.

Mabel cringed a bit at the sound of her voice. She looked sheepishly at Wendy, but the teen was looking off in the distance.

"It's funny," she continued, "that you think your little thing for my boyfriend isn't obvious."

Her tone said it wasn't funny at all.

Mabel stared, unsure how to respond. It. . . it was obvious?

Now Wendy turned to look at Mabel, and the girl had to fight to keep her gaze. "What do you think you're trying to pull?"

Don't stutter, Mabel commanded herself before stuttering, "I d-don't know what you—"

"Well, let's take a look," Wendy said, menace in her voice. "You and your dorky twin brother think you can be with the big kids, so you convince Robbie to bring you on our camping trip."

"That's not—"

"Once you manage that, you sabotage the whole thing. You run off, making us all go searching for you, maybe just so you can feel special while Robbie is worried about you. And once you don't get enough attention for that, you pull some kind of prank or black magic or whatever it was to go inside Robbie's head. What are you looking for? Proof that he loves you?"

"Wh-what? H-how—?"

"Anyone can see it in your eyes, kid. Those are the eyes of someone who thinks they know what love is. Someone who thinks they have any chance with a teenager when they're — just — a — kid." She jabbed a finger at Mabel's chest with the last four words, backing the younger girl up against a tree.

"I-I don't think I have a chance with anyone!" Mabel protested. "I'm t-trying to help Robbie!"

"Help him what? Realize he secretly hates me and loves you? Me, his girlfriend?"

Mabel didn't understand. She had a crush on Robbie, sure, but she hadn't done anything about it! What was making Wendy think all of this?

"Oh, look."

Mabel followed Wendy's gaze to a memory nearby. It was plastered on a nearby tree trunk, slightly bigger than the others.

In it, Wendy and Robbie were kissing.

"Our first kiss," Wendy said, and the fondness in her voice was warped by venom.

Mabel looked away.

"That's right," Wendy said, leaning over Mabel. "You can't ever hope to have that. Not with Robbie, not with anyone. Because you are just a dumb little kid."

Tears were in Mabel's eyes before she could force them down.

Wendy crouched down slowly until her eyes were level with Mabel's. Then she spoke in a near whisper. "Run away."

So Mabel did.