Purgatory was a boring place.

The long, sorrowful moan of a wandering soul chilled the empty air.

Not to mention it was damn annoying.

Bill sighed, perching atop a dreary building. He needed a moment to think. Running his fingers across the cracks in the weathered cement, he stared blankly at the moss and ivy growing down its greying structure. A hollow wind whispered amongst the shattered windows, breezing past Bill. He put a gentle grip on his hat so that it wouldn’t blow away.

Exile.

Pine Tree exiled him. Sure he didn’t intend to direct it at him, but still that was just plain uncalled for and downright sloppy. Bill furrowed his brow and balled a fist. After all, he was just teasing him a little. No harm done! Pine Tree was not weak, he knew that. Not mentally, anyway. His physical strength, however…

Bill couldn’t help but chuckle. He kicked his feet lightheartedly.

Still, something about the exile made him feel strange in a way he didn’t comprehend. He wanted it to stop. The way Pine Tree looked when he’d chanted the command, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. A stray finger tapped against the jar containing Dipper’s soul that was draped around his shoulders. He gazed up at the taupe sky, filled with tortured and lost souls looking for expiation. Somewhere out there was the dumb tangle that caused all of this. Nuts to him, but at least the nuisance was gone. There was no chance of him getting out without a bounding element (at least not for a very long time) like a foolish human’s pathetic soul.

The way Pine Tree’s lips curled into a smirk with the third chant of the command had Bill captivated. The look of determination and power in his eyes was as enthralling as the incantation itself. It was…annoying. Bill grunted and swiped a stone from the rooftop, pitching it as far as he could into the endless void of lost hope. Goddamn Pine Tree and his sudden revelations. He was actually kind of impressive. In a disgusting and irritating sort of way.

And what Pine Tree had said earlier that day, that had become significantly less hilarious by now, Bill realized. He replayed the scene over and over again in his memory.

He was stuttering, struggling to find the proper words that he wanted to express. Biting his lip and shifting his weight around were clear signs of discomfort and nervousness.

“Well, y-you see the truth is that I sorta have a crush on you.”

Stupid. Not funny, stupid. It made him feel a sort of sickness in the pit of his core to think of it. A pressurized tingling that made his limbs feel lax and tense at the same time, which was absolutely illogical and completely unsolicited. He wanted to block it out and focus on other business, but no matter how hard he tried, Pine Tree would not leave his mind. His body began to redden, trembling with anger. He clenched a fist on the roof edge so tight it sent small cracks running down the building a short distance.

He needed to go for a walk. Metaphorically, of course. With a frustrated groan, he reeled back his hand and dusted the cement particles off. Picking himself up from the roof’s edge and launching into the air again, he moved in no particular direction as he wandered through the endless abyss.

The air was filled with the souls of the damned–stranded between what the humans called ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’–and various other airborne demons who’d been condemned to this forsaken realm as a permanent banishment. Permanent. Pine Tree knowing such a spell by heart was not only surprising and mildly terrifying, it didn’t make sense. Sure, it was just a bit of Latin, but where most people fall short is realizing the effect it has on a vast majority of demons, himself included. And due to the fact that most simpletons don’t even believe the supernatural, it was not common knowledge to know exactly how to banish a demon. He would have had to been researching it or otherwise expecting the need to use it. While research wasn’t above Pines, it was still heavily on the unlikely side.

Bill let out a sigh and allowed his anger to dissipate. He looked around, taking in the sights. The last time he was in purgatory was before Gideon had summoned him back. He hadn’t had a link to the overworld and without that, there’s little to no hope to return for any demon trapped in this realm. This time he was blessed with a much more fortunate occurrence, which drastically reduced his resentment.

He slowed a bit to examine the ornament around his shoulders, tilting the container to see the misty blue and white inside. It was calm and rested, which was typically unusual for a soul in purgatory, but because it was shielded by the jar around it, it remained at ease. Bill looked up from it and glanced around at all the other souls floating around aimlessly through the void. He vaguely recognized some of them as people he’d encountered in the past–some of which dating back a few millennia. Most of them had a greyish center, others had black centers, and there were those, rather few in numbers in comparison, with white centers. The surrounding hue was a defining colour from somewhere in the spectrum that, when combined with the middle colour and the sound it made, identified the soul to the person it belonged to.

Distracted by all the passing wisps, he was caught off guard by a sudden tapping noise. He looked back down to see a white and lavender spirit knocking against the glass jar persistently. It caused the one trapped inside to stir, emitting a warmth and a low glow. It began swirling around its confinement, seemingly trying to get to the other soul.

This soul belonged to Shooting Star.

“Shooting Star, what are you doing here? Or better yet, how are you here?” Bill questioned. The spirit responded with a high pitched ringing noise, similar to the way a silver bell sounded. “Hm,” he pondered, looking back to Pine Tree’s soul. “You would be drawn to Pine Tree, wouldn’t you? Wonder what caused you to end up here.” The wisp circled him twice before tapping on the glass again and making another pitched cry. It was pining to merge with the soul inside, as twins do when they reach ascension. That is, unless one soul were to be condemned to hell without the other. (If one soul were meant to go to hell and the other to heaven, both souls would remain in purgatory even after merging. Unable to separate, and unable to decide where the singularity belonged, they would be left to wonder for the rest of eternity. The only rare exception to this rule would be if a double resurrection was preformed successfully and both souls were given the chance to change their ways before death again).

Bill stared at the lavender spirit, the gears in his head turning in thought. Shooting Star was probably missing this thing. She hadn’t traded it away, or else it would be in captive just as Pine Tree’s was. And where Shooting Star was, Pine Tree was likely to be within a hundred yards proximity at least. He squinted hard at the soul.

And he was really dying to know how Pine Tree learned that command. Maybe he could annihilate the pest too, while he was at it, for consuming his thoughts like this.

He took hold of the wisp and examined it, then a devious expression lit up his face.

“Come on, Shooting Star, hows about we get you back into your body?” he chimed cheerfully. Clutching the jar in his other hand, he gave it a pulse of energy and was warped to the soul’s source.

Hospital seats were cold and uncomfortable. Dipper shifted his weight in the wooden chair across from Mabel’s bed. Holding his legs up to his chest, he rested his chin on his knees and breathed out a sigh. Staring at his sister’s unconscious body was not exactly the way he had planned to spend his weekend, nor was it exactly exciting. Anxiety swirled in the pit of his gut, making him feel nauseous and lightheaded. This was all his fault for losing his grip on the journal and not knowing how exactly to take out the demon. He slammed a fist down on the table beside him, gritting his teeth and glaring down at the marble tile. He should have read the entry before they even left! The one time he didn’t plan in advance and it nearly cost his sister her life.

The doctor said the impact had knocked her unconscious and in the time it took them to get the her to the hospital (stupid police officers too busy yelling at them for sneaking past and taking on the beast against their permission), she’d slipped under and into a coma. Her chances of a quick recovery looked good, the doctor said, but that didn’t make Dipper feel any better when he still had to gaze upon his sister’s bandaged head and scratched up face. Utterly powerless to do anything, he was reduced to sit back and wait for her to come to on her own.

Grunkle Stan put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up from his seat and rubbed the back of his head.

“Sorry,” he said, realizing his small outburst was seemingly unprovoked. “I just wish she’d wake up so I can apologize for being so reckless.”

“Look, kid, you did the best you could do. Sure you should have thought it through a little more…”

Dipper blinked expectantly. When Stan didn’t continue after a moment, he spoke up.

“Yeah?”

“What?”

So much for making him feel any better. Dipper rolled his eyes and shook his head, shifting his attention back to Mabel.

He felt so bad about this.

But at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly happened to Bill. He’d looked surprised and almost scared even as the Latin words leapt from his mouth. A twinge of shame twisted in his gut recalling the incident. No part of him had voluntarily spoken the chant that day. It was practically instinctual, like an ingrained automatic response to his twin being in danger. Perhaps it was generational.

“You keep an eye on your sister, okay?” Stan said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled in the room after the previous conversation, “I’m gonna go yell at the receptionist until I don’t have to pay the hospital bill.” He got up and moved toward the door. “If the doctor asks where I’m at, I was never here.”

“Got it,” Dipper muttered with disinterest. The door clicked shut and Dipper rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, staring into space with eyes half-mast. The only sounds in the room were the beeping of the heart monitor and Mabel’s gentle breathing. Light streamed in from the window, beaming onto her face. The glare from the sun on the glass was reflecting into Dipper’s eyes; he kept trying to shield them but his arms would get tired and eventually he just decided to move seats.

They’d been there for hours already and he was starting to get a bit tired, yawning every few minutes and almost drifting off. He stretched out his arms and rubbed his eyes until he saw stars. As the staticy haze disappeared, he blinked a few times.

And then almost experienced a cardiac arrest.

He shrieked when he opened his eyes and saw Bill hovering in front of him with a piercing gaze locked onto him as though he’d been there for the entire time. His first instinct was to throw a fist at the other. It fell against Bill’s body and Dipper quickly retracted his hand and shook out the pain that had shot though it.

“Ow! Gosh, your body is like an actual brick wall!”

“Thanks, kid, I try. Now tell me how you know the banishing spell or I’ll turn your hands into tarantulas.”

“But tarantulas aren’t deadly to humans, I would have thought that you–”

“You’ve got ten seconds,” Bill ordered, extending a finger and emitting some sort of magical spark that Dipper knew was a threat.

“I-I don’t know! It just sorta happened, I guess.”

“Strike one. Seven seconds.”

“Bill, I’m serious, I honestly couldn’t even tell you what it was that I said–in Latin or in English!”

“Strike two, kid. Four seconds. You better spill it.”

“There’s nothing to spill!” Dipper retorted, throwing his hands up in emphasis. Bill didn’t seem at all moved, continuing to glare at him and finally igniting his hand with silver tongues of flame. “You know what, whatever; turn my hands into tarantulas. Or replace my guts with venomous snakes or whatever it is your sick mind tells you to do, it’s not like I care anymore.”

“Pine Tree,” Bill said, unmoving.

“What?” Dipper shouted, raising his voice. “I don’t know what you expect me to say! I already told you, I have no idea how I knew any banishing spell or whatever it was I did. It just happened.” He crossed his arms and cast his eyes at the painted white brick walls. Bill stared him down for a full minute, silence chilling the air between them, before finally Bill extinguished his hand and relaxed backwards a little. He dropped his arms and rolled his eye.

“Alright. So you don’t know how it happened; you spoke from your subconscious. I’ll buy it for now,” he resigned. Dipper knit his brow harder and tightened his crossed arms to his chest. “I’m actually kind of impressed, you know.” Dipper glanced up from his peripherals and raised an eyebrow. “That kind of thing isn’t exactly common knowledge, and you seem to have a knack for surprising me in the most unexpected ways. In other words, that was actually pretty great, kid, but don’t ever do it again or I’ll make sure you never have another dream that’s not a nightmare again. And in addition, I throw in a permanent spot in lowest level of hell where you’ll spend eternity suffering in the most cruel and unusual ways.”

Dipper was unimpressed at Bill’s attempt to threaten him, but was still gaping at the fact Bill had went from seemingly wanting to destroy him for chanting an exile command, to complimenting him for it. His jaw was practically on the floor, head cocked, and eye twitching.

“Huh?” he quirked. Bill rolled his eye again and put each balled fist on his sides.

“What you did was impressive, but do it again and I’ll–”

No, no, I heard what you said. I just can’t believe you actually said something nice to me. A-are you trying to get me to lower my guard? ‘Cause it’s not gonna work!“ Dipper exclaimed, tensing his shoulders and clenching his fists at the other.

“What? No! Ugh, listen Pines, I don’t have the time or energy to lie to you right now. I have somewhere else I need to be here soon, but I’ve been thinking about it and I’m gonna let you off the hook just this once. In fact…” He tapped a finger against his face, turning to glance at Mabel.

“Don’t you touch her!” Dipper yelled, jumping to his feet and chasing after Bill as he hovered over to her bedside. “If you’re gonna take it out on anyone, take it out on me, not her!” Bill quickly spun around to face Dipper, who was quaking with a mixture of fear and anger.

“Relax, kid, you look dumb like that,” Bill told him, snickering a bit. Dipper’s cheeks reddened slightly. He bit his bottom lip, but didn’t retaliate. “I’m helping!” he beamed.

“Not likely, triangle.”

“Hey, watch your mouth,” Bill snapped, shooting a glare at him before returning his attention to the unconscious body below. He materialized a jar identical to the one in which he was carrying Dipper’s soul. Dipper couldn’t tell the difference between them, even the contents looked identical. He was curious to ask, but remained silent under the uncertainty that if Bill actually was well-intentioned, he might ruin his chances.

His eyes were trained on Bill, watching carefully as he retrieved the wisp from its container and tossed the jar into oblivion. He extended his arm down without moving and phased it through Mabel’s chest, rummaging around a bit until he found the right place. His eye widened, and then quickly shifted to a satisfied crinkle as he snapped his arm back into place (something similar to a tape measure, Dipper thought). Bill stared down at Dipper with the same jolly expression and Dipper quirked his head curiously, squinting suspiciously at him, before shifting his attention to his sister. A still moment was all but too long, hopes flickering weakly in Dipper’s chest. Another still moment passed, and then another and another.

Dipper’s smile faded, his eyes filling with sadness as Mabel still showed no signs of consciousness. His shoulders drooped, attention falling to the floor.

Rubbing a hand against his metaphorical chin, Bill stared down at Mabel and suddenly it clicked.

“Whoops! Forgot the most important part!” he said cheerily, snapping his fingers at the realization. Leaning down, he placed both hands on the girl’s chest and in an instant, she was home to a few thousand volts of pure electricity. Her body writhed beneath Bill’s hands, jerking and thrashing in an involuntary response to the agony it was put through. Dipper was floored. In his mind, he reacted by lunging at Bill and tackling him to the ground, but he failed in the execution, shocked into immobility.

Finally, Bill removed his hands and Mabel’s body stilled. The rise and fall of her chest greatly accelerated and limbs twitching with aftershocks. And at last, she stirred.

Her eyes fluttered open, blinking a few times, before looking around the room to assess herself. Vision blurry, she reached an arm up that felt like it weighed a ton to rub her eyes clear again. When she could see, the first thing she noticed was Bill hovering over her, an amused stare written a hundred times across his face. She shrieked weakly and defended herself with her feeble arms.

“Rise and shine, Shooting Star! Someone’s here to see you!” Bill chimed, gesturing to Dipper beside him who had the widest grin on his face. “Close your mouth, kid, you’ll catch flies,” he teased, placing a hand on Dipper’s chin and shutting his jaw for him. Dipper reflexively swatted at him.

“Mabel!” he exhaled in desperate optimism. “You’re awake!” Mabel rubbed her throbbing head.

“Ugh, what happened? Where am I?”

“Northwest Memorial Hospital. You wouldn’t wake up after that fight with the tangle, so we got you here as fast as we could, but Blubs and Durland stopped us to complain about us fighting the monster after they told us not to and then you slipped into a coma and we were super worried about you, but then Bill came along and did god knows what and now you’re awake! Oh gosh, wow, are you feeling alright? He gave you a pretty rough start, I know what that feels like, trust me.” Mabel stared at him with her brows furrowed in confusion. He was talking way too fast for her to understand in her state. Most of it was hard to take in, but she just nodded and attempted to sit up.

“How long was I out?” she asked.

“Almost a week. The doctors said you would wake up, but I didn’t believe them. To me, you didn’t look so good. Oh god, you scared me so much,” he answered, tearing up slightly at the last bit. She looked up at Bill and squinted.

“Are you sure he helped? I don’t trust him.” Bill’s face dropped. The nerve.

“Who cares? You’re awake!” Dipper said in a sharp inhale. He reached out and practically attacked his sister with an embrace. Mabel lit up a smile and hugged him back, rubbing his back reassuringly.

“Can you do me a favour, bro-bro?” she asked him gingerly.

“What’s up?”

“I really need some chocolate or something after being out that long. Could you go get me a snack or something?” Dipper smiled and nodded, turning for the door.

“Of course. Be right back, Mabes.”

Naturally, Bill followed him out. He hovered along at Dipper’s side, staring at him with crossed arms.

“Well?” he said, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“I still haven’t heard a ‘thank you’ for resurrecting your sister.”

Dipper suddenly stopped in his path.

Not expecting it, Bill had to move backwards to reunite with him. The pair locked eyes and Dipper actually smiled.

“Thanks, Bill, for saving Mabel.” Bill was a bit surprised at how sincere it was, coming from him of all people. He was silent for a moment, arms dangling limp at the statement. Only when Dipper turned and continued walking down the corridor did he snap back into the present.

“It…It was nothing, alright? Don’t read into it.”

“So how’d you do it anyway? It looked like you were putting a soul back into her.”

“You’re pretty sharp, huh? Yeah. I met up with her in purgatory–you know, that place you banished me to?” Dipper lowered his head a bit and kept from making eye contact. “Her soul was drawn to yours, as it should be. Y’know, twins and all.”

“And you went through all the trouble to bring it back? That’s not exactly like y–”

“It was on the way, alright?” Bill huffed defensively, balling his fists and jerking his arms downward.

“Oh,” Dipper responded, “Well, thank you anyway for doing that.”

Stupid Pine Tree, Bill thought, face radiating a warmer energy than usual.

When the pair reached the snack machine, the area was barren except for Grunkle Stan standing at the reception counter, laying waste to the poor secretary. Dipper rummaged around in his pockets and pulled out about a dollar fifty in quarters. He plugged it into the machine and punched in the code for Mabel’s favourite chocolate, ‘Hirschy Bar’. While he waited for it to fall, he turned to Bill and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Say, Bill…if, uh, you’re not doing anything later…”

“I already told you, I’ve got somewhere to be soon.”

“I mean, after that I guess. If you’re not busy, would you wanna maybe…hang out?” he shrugged and grinned nervously, pink blossoming over his cheeks. Bill gawked in disbelief and sheer surprise. What he couldn’t exactly decide, though, was whether he was more shocked at Pine Tree for suggesting such a thing or at himself for wanting to say yes. Rendered unresponsive, Dipper elaborated. “I just would kind of like to thank you for saving Mabel.”

“You just did,” Bill said, confused.

“Well–yeah, I guess I did, but I mean in a different way. Kind of like…I don’t know, sorta maybe kinda not really but I guess partially like–”

“Spit it out, kid.”

“…a date?” Dipper bit down hard on his bottom lip as nausea bubbled up in his stomach again. He couldn’t believe he was saying that. His blush spread further, heating his ears and running across his face like a paintbrush had swiped over it.

No fucking way. Pine Tree did not just ask for that, there was no way. He had to have misheard it. Without saying anything, he fabricated a fruit and held it out in the palm of his hand to the other, his own face starting to change colour.

A date. An actual date. Was this Bill’s form of rejection? He panicked a little, so he attempted to clarify.

“No, no, I mean like…” he anxiously ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his arm, “spending time with someone you really sorta like kind of a lot.” He flushed even harder, becoming almost entirely cherry red.

Nope, he didn’t mishear. The fruit was incinerated instantly with a flash flame, and Bill dropped his arm again.

They stared silently at each other as seconds ticked by. The sound of Stan’s yelling had become a numb ringing, the clock’s ticking seemed so loud it echoed through their heads. Neither one of them moved an inch. Dipper felt like his chest was about to explode and he realized he was holding his breath, but was too scared to release it. Sweat beaded under his arms and in his palms, his legs were like noodles beneath him.

Finally, Bill spoke.

“We’ll see.”

And with that he was gone, vanishing into thin air with a small fireball.

Dipper released his breath in a rush and nearly lost his balance. He steadied himself with his arms and shook out the anxiety. Taking a moment to rub the ringing out of his ears, he looked back at Grunkle Stan just to make sure he was really still here and that he wasn’t as out of place as he felt.

But then again, to anyone else it would have looked like he was asking the wall on a date. Luckily, no one else was around and Grunkle Stan was too wrapped up in skipping the bill to even notice Dipper had wandered into the room.

He breathed a sigh to relax his nerves, and reached in the vending machine for the chocolate.

Two bars came out.

{ I am so so sorry, I haven't been able to update in a while because of school! But now it's half term so look forward to new chapters being posted regularly! }
Signing out,
Metallicana-scale~