An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
My (VERY T_T) belated gift for @sex-drugz-rockroll for @billdipss2025 !!!! This was SO much fun to write, I hope you like it!!
Fucking asshole.
Dipper groaned as he flopped back onto the dirt floor of the forest, his joints cracking just a little too loudly. Good.Breaking his back and decomposing into worm food sounded like a huge improvement to his current situation.
His eyelids began to droop down and suddenly, the wet patches of moss and dirt under his body felt….cozy.
Which meant he wasn't breathing enough—fuck.
He tried to ignore the throbbing in his head and burning in his throat as he gasped for oxygen, instead focusing on the occasional chirping of birds and rustle of leaves in the woods. His torso and back twitched off the floor, Dipper letting out a hiss in response as he floundered around pathetically like a fish out of water.
"Well, well, well, what—"
"Fuck off." Dipper groaned, giving up on breathing altogether and letting his head hit the floor again with a semi-satisfying thunk.
He could practically hear the man's grin widened—that fucking asshole—as his footsteps approached Dipper's heaving form. "Why-"
"Shut. Up." Dipper tried his best to glare at the fuzzy image of the man now lingering over him but his desperate for gasps made it difficult.
Dipper could hear Bill huff in annoyance. He was probably pouting right now—good! That asshole didn't deserve the satisfaction of witty banter with Dipper right now. Or ever again!
"Y'know," Bill spoke slowly at first, expecting Dipper to interrupt him again and grinning when Dipper just flipped him off and continued focusing on catching his breath. "this might be the most pathetic thing you've ever done, and that's saying something kid!"
Despite his body protesting, Dipper sat up only to watch Bill stumble backwards at the sudden motion. Shooting a proper glare at the demon, Dipper rested his arms on his knees as his breath slowly returned to its normal state. The dirt on his back dampened his shirt and made it stick to his skin. Gross. Hopefully Mabel wasn't back from Pacifica's by the time he got back to the shack, or else he'd never live this down.
"—Hey! I'm talking to you, kid!" Bill stomped back into Dipper's vision and waved a hand in his face.
"Well I'm not. Get lost." Dipper didn't even bother to look back at the demon as he began walking. Was this the right way? Fuck Dipper hoped it was. He didn't really recognize this section of the forest but he sure as hell wasn't about to ask.
"Y'know I never took you for as the running type." Bill floated alongside Dipper, grinning. "Thought you were braver than that."
Oh that fucker—Dipper, shook his head. He was trying to get a rise of out Dipper. This was his thing. Dipper bit his tongue, continuing to walk back.
Bill crossed his arms and glared at Dipper after a minute of silence. "Oh c'mon kid! I thought you'd be happy about this!"
"In what world would I be happy about having my soul bonded to you?!" Dipper spun around on his heels, jabbing his finger in Bill's face in an accusatory manner.
Bill's own grin dropped into an annoyed scowl—and you know what? Great. He hoped that asshole would feel just as miserable as he did.
"You think I'm throwing a party over here either? I felt something yank on my entire essence three days ago and now I can't get more than a mile away from you without feeling like I'm being turned inside out! You're like a magical ankle monitor, Pine Tree!"
Dipper's chest felt tight, and not from the lack of oxygen this time. He'd felt something too, that night. A pull, like a rubber band snapping taut between his ribs. He'd thought it was just the ritual working, binding Bill, weakening him enough that Dipper could finally—
"So what, you think we're soul bonded?" Dipper asked slowly.
"Well I'm not a hundred percent sure," Bill admitted, which was somehow more unsettling than his usual confidence. "Could be a soul bond. Could be a curse. Could be some kind of metaphysical parasite that happens to link us together in the least convenient way possible." He tilted his head. "But considering I can feel you right now—and I don't mean in the fun 'I'm watching you' way, I mean I can feel that your left shoulder hurts and you're getting a headache and you haven't eaten anything since that cold pizza yesterday for lunch so know your stomach is screaming in pain—"
"I don't"
"You do, you're just ignoring it," Bill said smugly. "Point is, something's tying us together, and it's got all the hallmarks of a soul bond. The timing, the pull, the fact that looking at your stupid face makes me feel physically ill—"
"That's just you being an asshole."
"—or maybe it's the bond rejecting the fact that I'm tethered to a meat sack with the magical capacity of a wet napkin!" Bill's hands crackled with energy. "Do you have ANY idea how embarrassing this is for me? Bill Cipher, dream demon extraordinaire, reduced to playing babysitter because some idiot kid can't perform a simple binding ritual without screwing it up!"
"I didn't screw anything up!" Dipper shot back, ignoring how his ribs protested the shouting. "Everything on my part was perfect! I followed the instructions exactly—"
"Oh, the INSTRUCTIONS," Bill said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And where did you get these instructions, sapling?"
Dipper's jaw clenched. "Ford knew what he was doing."
"Ford Pines couldn't successfully trap me when he had a portal and government funding!" Bill cackled. "What makes you think his hand-me-down rituals would work any better?"
"They worked fine! You're the one who probably interfered—"
"Interfered?!" Bill's form expanded, crackling at the edges. "I was trying to STOP you from doing something monumentally stupid! Not my fault the ritual backfired and now I'm stuck within spitting distance of a sweaty nerd who smells like dirt!"
Dipper's eye twitched. "I thought you said you didn't have a sense of smell."
"I developed one JUST to be disgusted by you!" Bill circled around him like a shark. "Although I gotta say, for someone who just ate forest floor, you're not looking half as dead as I expected. That's the bond, probably. My sheer intelligence and power is keeping you upright even when you should be passing out from blood loss or stupidity or both."
"I'm not bleeding—"
"Your shoulder says otherwise." Bill gestured lazily at Dipper's left side. "But hey, what do I know? I'm just the one who can apparently feel your organs now. Which is a delight, by the way. Really adding to my day."
Dipper instinctively reached for his shoulder and—fuck. His fingers came away red. When had that happened?
"See?" Bill's grin sharpened. "This is what I'm dealing with. You don't even notice when you're falling apart. How am I supposed to work with this?"
"You're not supposed to work with anything! You're supposed to be trapped, or weakened, or—" Dipper's voice cracked slightly.
Bill's expression shifted, something almost calculating crossing his face. "Hey, hey, don't start crying on me now. I don't do feelings, especially not yours." But his tone had lost some of its edge. "Look, maybe this isn't a total disaster. I mean, it's a disaster for me, obviously. But you got what you wanted, right? Bill Cipher, stuck following you around like a lost puppy. Very heroic. Very impressive."
Dipper glared at him through the headache. "Are you trying to make me feel better?"
"I'm trying to make sure you don't pass out before we fix this mess," Bill corrected. "Because if you die, there's a non-zero chance I go down with you, and I've got plans this millennium."
"Comforting."
"I thought so!" Bill brightened. "See, we're already on the same page. This is going great."
Dipper groaned, dragging a hand down his face. His everything hurt and he did NOT have the energy for this. "Look, we can argue about whose fault it is later. Right now we need to figure out how to fix this."
"Oh, NOW you want my help," Bill sneered, but there was something almost playful in it now. "Funny how that works. 'Bill Cipher is evil, Bill Cipher needs to be stopped, oh no I accidentally soul-bonded myself to Bill Cipher, better ask him to fix it!'"
Dipper took a breath, trying to ignore how Bill was definitely in his personal space now. "Can you fix this or not?"
"Maybe," Bill said, drawing out the word. "Probably. There's a chance." He paused. "Honestly kid, I'm like seventy percent sure this is a soul bond and not something worse, but I won't know until I do some digging. And soul bonds aren't exactly easy to undo. That's kind of the whole point."
Dipper felt his stomach drop. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Bill said slowly, like he was explaining something to a particularly dim child, "that soul bonds are BINDING. As in permanent. As in 'till death do us part' except not even death works sometimes." He paused, eyes brightening. "Actually, that might work for you. Want me to kill you real quick? See if that does the trick?"
"No!"
"Worth a shot." Bill shrugged, but he looked genuinely thoughtful now, which was somehow more unsettling than when he was being antagonistic. "Look, I might be able to dig something up. I know a guy who knows a guy who once unraveled a reincarnation curse, and that's pretty close to a soul bond, metaphysically speaking."
"How long will that take?"
Bill's grin turned sharp. "Well, that's the fun part, Pine Tree! See, there's this little soirée happening tonight. Malthus is throwing a party for all the demons in the area—a real rager, I hear. And my guy? He's gonna be there."
Dipper's headache intensified. "Absolutely not."
"Absolutely yes!" Bill's eye gleamed with amusement. "See, here's where the whole 'soul bond'—or whatever this is—gets fun. We can't be too far apart or we both start feeling... unpleasant. And I am NOT missing this party because you decided to play hero and screwed both of us over."
Dipper wanted to argue. Wanted to tell Bill exactly where he could shove his party invitation. But he could already feel it—that uncomfortable tug in his chest, like a hook behind his sternum pulling him toward the demon. It had been there since the ritual, a constant low-grade awareness of Bill's presence that he'd been trying to ignore.
The thought of that sensation intensifying into actual pain...
"Fine," Dipper ground out. "But I'm not wearing a stupid costume or whatever—"
"Oh, you're definitely wearing a costume," Bill said cheerfully, already floating backward. "Can't show up to a demon party looking like you just got in a fight with the ground and lost. Well, I mean, you DID just get in a fight with the ground, but we can fix that. Soap. Water,—"
"How do you know about—"
"Soul bond, remember? Or curse. Or metaphysical parasite." Bill waggled his fingers mysteriously. "The point is, I know things now. Lots of things. Like how you organize your books by author but your comics by publication date, and how you still sleep with that weird stuffed animal—"
"It's not weird, it's a limited edition—"
"And how you dreamed last night about—"
"OKAY," Dipper said loudly, face burning. "I get it. You're in my head. Fantastic. Love that for me."
Bill's grin was absolutely gleeful. "Oh, Pine Tree. I'm not just in your head. I'm in your SOUL. We're gonna have so much fun together."
Dipper was starting to think that maybe passing out in the forest wouldn't have been so bad after all.
Dipper was adjusting his collar for what felt like the hundredth time when Bill materialized in his room without warning or permission, because of course he did.
"Knock much?" Dipper snapped, spinning around.
"Why would I knock? It's not like you can keep me out anymore." Bill was already circling him like a vulture, and Dipper tried very hard not to feel self-conscious about the outfit he'd been forced into. The Prussian blue combo that had appeared on his bed an hour ago with a note that just said "WEAR THIS OR ELSE" in writing that seemed to shimmer and shift.
He'd tried to refuse. He'd tried to put on jeans and his normal hoodie. The clothes had literally disappeared from his hands.
So here he was, dressed like he was going to court.
Bill had gone silent.
Dipper glanced over to find the demon just... staring. Eye wide, not blinking, form completely still in a way that Bill never was.
"What?" Dipper asked, tugging at the collar again. "Is it wrong? Did you give me the wrong size or—"
"No," Bill said, and his voice came out weird. Flat. Then he blinked and the grin snapped back into place like a mask. "I mean—it's fine. You look fine. Acceptable. Won't embarrass me too badly."
"Gee, thanks."
"I'm serious though, kid, you actually clean up halfway decent." Bill stepped closer, adjusting Dipper's collar with an almost absent touch. "Didn't think you had it in you. Usually you dress like a homeless librarian."
"I dress normal—"
"You dress BORING." Bill's hand lingered for a second too long at Dipper's shoulder, smoothing down a wrinkle. "This works though. The blue really—" He stopped himself, eyes narrowing like he'd said too much.
Dipper's face felt warm. He blamed the lack of air conditioning. "Can we just go?"
"Eager, are we?" Bill's grin sharpened, but there was something off about it. "Alright, alright. Let's get you to your first demonic soirée. Try not to die, yeah? It'd really ruin my night."
The mansion was even more unsettling on the inside than out. Everything was too tall, too angular, proportions slightly wrong in ways that made Dipper's eyes hurt if he looked too long. The music was oppressive, thrumming in his chest like a second heartbeat that didn't quite sync with his real one.
And the demons. So many demons.
They came in every shape imaginable and several that shouldn't be possible. Some looked almost human, beautiful in that uncanny valley way. Others were decidedly not, all angles and teeth and too many limbs. The crowd parted slightly as Bill led him through, and Dipper tried not to think about how every eye in the room seemed to track their movement. Or more specifically, seemed to track him.
"Stick close," Bill murmured, hand landing on the small of Dipper's back in a way that should have felt possessive but mostly just felt grounding. "Don't make eye contact with anyone unless I tell you to, don't accept any food or drinks, and for the love of Axolotl, don't tell anyone your real name."
"You've mentioned that like five times—"
"Because you have a track record of doing stupid things!" Bill steered him around a cluster of demons that seemed to be made entirely of smoke and bad intentions. "Just—play the part, okay? You're my plus-one. My guest. Act like it."
Dipper wanted to ask what exactly that meant, but then Bill was pulling him toward the bar area and he got distracted by the bartender who had three faces and was pouring something that glowed.
"Cipher!" Someone called out, and Bill's hand tightened briefly on Dipper's back before releasing.
"Malthus," Bill said smoothly, turning to face a tall demon with dark hair and a smile that made Dipper's skin crawl. "Hell of a party. Very tasteful. Love what you've done."
"Why thank you!" Malthus's eyes—too bright, too red—slid from Bill to Dipper, and something in his expression sharpened with interest. "And who's this delicious little mortal you've brought?"
Dipper felt his spine stiffen. There was something in the way Malthus was looking at him that felt wrong. Hungry.
"My guest," Bill said. "Pine Tree, this is our host. Malthus, this is Pine Tree. There. Introductions done. We should mingle—"
But Malthus was already moving closer, circling Dipper with the same predatory interest a cat might show a particularly interesting mouse. "Pine Tree? How quaint." His smile widened. "Tell me, little human, are you enjoying the party?"
"It's... something," Dipper managed, very aware of how Malthus was studying him. Like he was trying to figure out if Dipper was worth eating or just playing with first.
Bill had moved to Dipper's other side now, talking to some demon with too many eyes, but Dipper could feel that tether between them pulling taut, feeling Bill's attention, even when he wasn't looking directly at them.
"You know," Malthus said conversationally, "it's rare to see Bill Cipher bring a human to one of these things. He usually hates your kind. Too fragile, he says. Too boring." His eyes glinted. "You must be very special."
"I'm really not—"
"Oh, I doubt that." Malthus reached out like he was going to touch Dipper's face, and Dipper jerked back on instinct.
Bill was there in an instant, inserting himself between them with a grin that was all teeth and no humor. "Alright, alright, enough with the meet and greet! We should really find Azaroth, kid. You know, the guy we came here to see? The whole reason we're at this delightful party?"
Malthus stepped back with a laugh, hands raised in mock surrender. "Of course, of course. Don't let me keep you." But his eyes stayed on Dipper a beat too long before he finally turned away.
Bill's hand found Dipper's back again, steering him through the crowd with more force than before.
"That was—" Dipper started.
"Yeah," Bill cut him off. "Just ignore him. He's harmless. Mostly. Probably."
"That's not reassuring."
"It wasn't meant to be." Bill's grin was strained now, not quite reaching his eye. "Just stay close, okay? These parties can get... well, weird!"
Dipper wanted to point out that everything about this was already weird, but then Bill was pulling him toward a corner where a demon in an expensive-looking suit was holding court, and he had to focus on not tripping over his own feet.
But he could still feel eyes on him. Multiple sets of them.
And when he glanced back, Malthus was watching from across the room, that same too-sharp smile on his face.
Twenty minutes later, Dipper was nursing a glass of something Bill had assured him was "mostly not poisonous" and trying not to think about how many demons kept glancing his way.
Bill was next to him, talking animatedly with some associate about power fluctuations, gesturing wildly enough that his drink kept sloshing dangerously close to the rim. He was practically glowing—literally, there was a faint golden aura around him that pulsed with his excitement—and Dipper found himself watching the demon more than the crowd.
It was weird, seeing Bill like this. In his element. The other demons clearly respected him, or at least feared him enough to laugh at his jokes. There was something about the way Bill moved through the crowd, the way he seemed to brighten every space he entered, the way his laugh cut through the oppressive music and made the room feel less suffocating for just a moment.
Bill was like the sun.
Dipper tore his gaze away, focusing on his drink instead and snorting at the painfully comparison his brain had spit at him. This was bad. This was very bad. He was not developing... whatever this was. He was just tired. And probably concussed from earlier. And definitely overthinking everything like he always did.
"You alright there, Pine Tree?" Bill had turned back to him, eye narrowed in concern. "You look constipated."
"I'm fine," Dipper lied. "Just... thinking."
"Dangerous pastime for you." But Bill's grin had softened slightly, less mocking. "Seriously though, you doing okay? Not feeling faint or anything? Because if you pass out at a demon party, your soul is pretty much fair game to everyone here!"
"I'm not going to pass out."
"Good. Because you're doing great, actually." Bill knocked their shoulders together, a weirdly casual gesture. "Most humans would be crying in a corner by now. Or dead. But you're just standing here looking all broody. Very on brand."
Dipper felt his face heat. "I'm not broody."
"You're the broodiest person I've ever met, and I've met Edgar Allan Poe." Bill's eye crinkled with amusement. "It's kind of your whole thing. That and the way you—"
He stopped abruptly, gaze sharpening as he looked past Dipper's shoulder.
Dipper turned to follow his line of sight and found Malthus watching them again, now talking to a group of demons but with his attention clearly divided.
"Ignore him," Bill said again, but his voice had gone tight.
"Kind of hard when he keeps staring."
"Yeah, well." Bill's hand landed on Dipper's shoulder, thumb brushing against his collar. "Some demons like shiny new things. You're the only human here, so you're automatically interesting. Don't let it get to your head."
"I'm not—"
"There he is!" Bill suddenly brightened, waving at a demon across the room. "That's Azaroth! Finally! C'mon, kid, let's go before he disappears into the crowd again."
Bill grabbed Dipper's wrist and pulled him forward, and Dipper tried very hard not to think about how warm the demon's hand was, or how that touch made the uncomfortable tether feeling in his chest settle into something almost pleasant.
He was so, so screwed.
Azaroth turned out to be a demon in an immaculate three-piece suit with silver hair and eyes that seemed to shift through every color Dipper had ever seen and a few he was pretty sure didn't exist. He looked almost human, if you ignored the way his shadow moved independently and the faint smell of ozone that surrounded him.
"Cipher," Azaroth said with a nod, his voice like silk over gravel. "I was wondering when you'd make your way over. And this must be the human everyone's been whispering about."
"Pine Tree," Bill introduced quickly. "My companion for the evening. We've got a bit of a situation that needs your expertise."
Azaroth's expression didn't change, but something about his posture suggested amusement. "A situation. How delightfully vague." He gestured to a quieter alcove away from the main crowd. "Shall we discuss it somewhere more private?"
They followed him to a corner where the music was slightly less overwhelming, and Bill immediately launched into an explanation that involved a lot of hand-waving and technical magical jargon that made Dipper's head spin.
"—and so we're pretty sure it's a soul bond, or at least something bond-adjacent, because we can feel each other and there's this whole proximity thing—"
"May I?" Azaroth interrupted, holding out a hand toward Dipper.
Dipper glanced at Bill, who nodded, so he hesitantly extended his own hand. Azaroth's fingers were cool as they wrapped around his wrist, and Dipper felt a tingle of something—magic, probably—wash over him.
Azaroth's eyes went distant for a moment, then refocused with what might have been surprise. "Interesting."
"What?" Bill demanded. "Is it a soul bond? Can you break it?"
"It's not a soul bond," Azaroth said simply, releasing Dipper's wrist.
The relief that flooded through Dipper was immediate and overwhelming. Not a soul bond. They could break it. He could go back to his normal life and Bill could go back to—
"It's a proximity tether," Azaroth continued. "Basic spell work, really. Keeps two entities within a certain range of each other. Causes discomfort if separated too long, creates a mild awareness of the other's location and general state." He tilted his head. "Competent work, but nothing permanent. Should wear off in a few weeks, or I could dispel it now if you'd like."
Bill had gone very still. "A proximity tether."
"Yes."
"Not a soul bond."
"Correct."
"So someone cast a proximity tether on us and we just... assumed..." Bill's eye twitched. "We assumed it was a soul bond because—"
"Because you're both idiots?" Azaroth suggested mildly.
Dipper felt his face burning. They'd been fighting about this for three days. Three days of Bill complaining about being "tethered" to him, of Dipper panicking about being permanently bound to a chaos demon, of both of them acting like it was the end of the world—
And it was just a proximity spell. The magical equivalent of a house arrest ankle monitor.
"I'm going to kill whoever did this," Bill said flatly. "Slowly. Creatively. Maybe involving fire ants."
"Well, that's the interesting part," Azaroth said, and now he was definitely amused. "The spell on you, Cipher, is quite recent. Three days old, as you said. But—" He turned to Dipper. "May I check something else?"
Before Dipper could respond, Azaroth had taken his wrist again, this time turning it over to expose the underside. His fingers traced a pattern that Dipper couldn't see but could feel, like ice water running under his skin.
Azaroth's expression shifted. The amusement drained away, replaced by something colder.
"Oh," he said softly. "Oh, this is a problem."
"What?" Dipper tried to pull his arm back, but Azaroth's grip tightened.
"There's another binding here. Older. Much more sophisticated." Azaroth's eyes met Bill's. "This is a soul bond. A real one."
The world seemed to tilt sideways.
"That's impossible," Bill said, but his voice had lost its certainty. "I would have felt—"
"A soul bond to another demon."
Dipper stared at the mark. He'd never seen it before. How had he never seen it before?
"Who?" Bill's voice had gone cold. Dangerous. "Who did this?"
"Well, well, well!"
They all turned to find Malthus standing behind them, that same sharp smile on his face. But there was something different about him now.
"I was wondering when dear Azaroth would figure it out," Malthus said conversationally, like they were discussing the weather and not... whatever the hell this was. "Took you long enough. I was starting to think I'd have to spell it out."
Bill's form flickered. "What did you do."
"What did I do?" Malthus laughed, moving closer to their little group. His eyes—too red, too bright—fixed on Dipper with an intensity that made Dipper's skin crawl. "I made an investment, Cipher. Three days ago, I bound myself to young Dipper here." He said the name like he was tasting it, savoring it. "Dipper Pines. Such a charming name. Very... innocent."
Dipper's blood ran cold. "How do you know my—"
"Your name?" Malthus's smile widened. "Oh, Dipper. I've known your name for weeks. Ever since I arrived in this delightful little town and started doing research on its most interesting inhabitants." He took a step closer, and Dipper instinctively backed up until his back hit Bill's chest. "You're quite the local legend, you know. The human who helped save the world. The human who placated the great Bill Cipher. The human with just enough magical potential to be... useful."
"Get away from him," Bill snarled, and Dipper could feel heat radiating off the demon now, actual heat that made the air shimmer.
"But why would I do that?" Malthus spread his hands innocently. "He's mine. By law, by bond, by right. You felt the ritual three days ago, didn't you, Dipper? That little pull in your chest? You thought you were binding Cipher, but really..." His grin turned vicious. "You were binding yourself to me."
Dipper's mind was racing, trying to process. The ritual. The circle he'd found with his symbols. He'd thought he was finally strong enough, smart enough, to trap Bill. To weaken him. To be the hero. Instead he'd walked right into a trap with an even bigger asshole than Bill. Fuck.
"The proximity tether was just insurance," Malthus continued, circling them now like a predator. "A little spell to make sure Cipher stayed close enough to Dipper to not notice the real binding. To make you both think you'd accidentally tied yourselves together." He laughed. "And it worked beautifully! You've been so busy arguing with each other, you didn't even think to check for other signatures."
Azaroth had stepped back, his expression carefully neutral. This was demon business now. He wasn't going to interfere.
"You can't—" Dipper started, but his voice came out weak. "You can't just soul bond someone without their consent—"
"Oh, but you consented," Malthus said sweetly. "You performed the ritual. You spoke the words. You activated the circle. All I did was... redirect the intention." He reached out, and before Dipper could move, his fingers wrapped around Dipper's wrist, right over the mark.
Pain.
White-hot, searing, like every nerve in his body had been set on fire. Dipper heard himself scream, distantly, through the roaring in his ears. His knees buckled, and he would have hit the ground if Bill hadn't caught him.
"Let him go," Bill said coldly.
"But he's mine," Malthus said, not letting go. If anything, his grip tightened, and the pain intensified. "And I think I'll take him home now. You understand, Cipher. I've been so patient, waiting for the right moment. And now—" He yanked on Dipper's arm, pulling him forward, away from Bill. "Now I get to see what exactly makes this little human so special."
The pain pulsed again, and Dipper couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel the wrongness of it, the way the bond pulled at something deep inside him like hooks in his soul.
"I said," Bill repeated, and his voice was wrong—too many frequencies at once, like reality itself was glitching around the words, "let him go."
Malthus's grin widened. "Or what, Cipher? He's mine. Legally bound. You can't touch me without hurting him, and we both know—"
"I know a LOT of things!" Bill's laugh was manic, sharp enough to cut. "I know exactly seventy-three ways to kill a demon without technically killing them! I know where you sleep! I know the names of everyone you've ever loved! I know—" His voice cracked slightly, but he pushed through, "—I know that if you don't let go of him in the next five seconds, I'm going to make you WISH physical harm was an option!"
The lights in the mansion were strobing now, bulbs bursting one by one in showers of glass. The other demons in the room were backing away now, the party grinding to a halt as everyone's attention fixed on the scene unfolding in the corner.
"Bill—" Dipper tried to speak through the pain, but Malthus's grip tightened and he choked on the words.
"FOUR SECONDS!" Bill's form was expanding now, not quite leaving his human shape but getting bigger, more impossible. "You think you're clever? You think you can just TAKE something of mine and I'll just—what, let it go? Accept it? Move on?" His laugh was getting higher, more unhinged. "I've destroyed DIMENSIONS for less than this!"
"The ritual was legal—" Malthus tried.
"LEGAL!" Bill cackled, and several windows shattered. "Oh, oh that's RICH! You wanna talk legal? Let's talk legal! Let's talk about how I currently have a binding agreement with the town of Gravity Falls that gives me EXCLUSIVE RIGHTS to torment its inhabitants! Let's talk about how Pine Tree here is a RESIDENT of said town! Let's talk about how YOU—" Bill's eyes were blazing like the sun, "—just violated MY territory, MY deal, and MY very generous three-day grace period of thinking this was all a hilarious accident!"
The pain in Dipper's wrist had intensified with Malthus's grip tightening in what might have been fear. "Can we postpone the monologuing and focus on reversing this first please?" Dipper coughed out, but no one besides Azaroth seemed to hear him.
"I was going to let the proximity spell run its course," Bill continued, almost conversational now as he circled them. "Maybe have some fun with it. Make the kid squirm a bit. But THIS?" He gestured at Malthus's hand on Dipper's wrist. "This is RUDE. This is PRESUMPTUOUS. This is—" his voice dropped to something cold and sharp as he looked at Dipper, "—really, REALLY bad for your health."
"The bond is sealed. He's not yours," Malthus said coolly. "He's mine. The bond says so, legal or not. Even if you kill me, the bond stays. He stays mine. Forever."
Bill went very still.
"Forever," he repeated, and something in his voice made even Malthus's expression falter slightly. "You're telling me that no matter what I do, no matter how many pieces I tear you into, no matter how creative I get with the torture—and trust me, I can get VERY creative—he stays bound to you."
"That's correct." Azaroth nodded along.
"Huh." Bill tilted his head, eye never leaving Malthus. "That's a real problem. Because see, I can't kill you. I can't even hurt you that badly without risking him. And you know that. You're counting on that."
"I am." Malthus's smile was triumphant. "So why don't you just kill the human? Unless you've—"
"See, here's the thing about me, Malthy—can I call you Malthy? I'm gonna call you Malthy—" Bill interrupted, voice suddenly bright and cheerful in a way that made Dipper's blood run cold. "I don't LOSE!" He was talking faster now, pacing, gesturing wildly. "So you've got to get creative here! You've got to think outside the box! And if you do by the time the clock strikes midnight—"
"I'm not letting him go, Cipher."
"—I won't spend the next thousand years making your existence a living hell!" Bill continued like Malthus hadn't spoken. "I won't tell every demon in this dimension what you did! I won't make it so you can't show your face at a party without someone mentioning how you tricked a human teenager! I won't—"
"Empty threats," Malthus said, but his grip on Dipper had loosened slightly.
"EMPTY?!" Bill's laugh was sharp enough to shatter the remaining glasses on the nearby tables. "You think I'm bluffing? You think BILL CIPHER is bluffing?!"
He was right in Malthus's face now, not quite touching but close enough that Dipper could feel the heat radiating off him. He snapped his fingers again, and Malthus collapsed to his knees with a strangled sound. Just as a deep pain began searing into Dipper's own abdomen and making his vision become spotty, Bill snapped his fingers again and both their pain went away.
"So, once again, here's what's gonna happen," Bill said brightly, floating down until he was eye-level with Malthus. "You're gonna figure out how to break that bond. Tonight. Right now. And you're gonna do it without harming one hair on Pine Tree's head, or I'm gonna get CREATIVE with the whole 'shared pain' loophole. And trust me—" his form pulsed with chaotic energy, "—I can get VERY creative."
"That's—that's impossible," Malthus wheezed. "Soul bonds can't be broken without—"
"Then you better start figuring out the impossible, huh?" Bill's voice was cheery again. "Because every minute that bond stays active is another minute I get to use you as a stress ball for all my pent-up frustration about this ENTIRE EVENING!"
He snapped his fingers again, and Malthus collapsed to his knees with a strangled sound. He snapped them again with a frown just as Dipper began to cough.
Azaroth stepped forward, hands raised. "Cipher, perhaps we could—"
"Oh, AZZY!" Bill spun toward him, eye bright with manic energy. "You wanna help? GREAT! You're a smart guy! You figure out how to unbind Pine Tree from Dollar Store Dracula over here, and I'll owe you a favor! A REAL favor!"
"I'll... see what I can do," Azaroth said carefully.
"FANTASTIC!" Bill's attention snapped back to Malthus, who was still on the floor. "See? This is called DELEGATION! This is called PROBLEM SOLVING! This is called—" he leaned in close, "—what happens when you fuck with Bill Cipher's stuff."
Dipper, still reeling from the pain and the chaos and the sheer insanity of watching Bill have what could only be described as a territorial meltdown, managed to rasp out, "I'm not your stuff."
Bill's eye swiveled to him, and for just a moment, something soft flickered across his expression before the manic grin returned. "Course not, Pine Tree! You're your own person! A very independent, very human, very MINE-BY-DIBS person!" He turned back to Malthus. "But the principle stands! Nobody gets to soul bond MY plus-one without MY permission! That's just basic party etiquette!"
"So!" Bill clapped his hands together, the sound echoing with unnatural resonance. "Malthus is gonna fix this, Azaroth's gonna supervise, and I'm gonna hover here! Everyone clear on the plan?"
No one argued.
"GREAT! Love it when a party comes together!"
Thirty minutes later, Dipper's wrist was still burning where Malthus had grabbed it, the mark writhing under his skin like it was alive. He clutched it to his chest, trying to breathe through the pain while Bill continued his manic circling of Malthus like a very angry, very geometric shark.
"Um," Dipper managed, his voice rough. "Bill?"
Bill's eyes immediately swiveled to him, the manic energy dimming just slightly. "Yeah, kid?"
"Can you—" Dipper gestured vaguely at his wrist. "Can you make it stop hurting? The bond thing, it's—"
Bill was next to him in an instant, human form snapping back into place so fast it made Dipper dizzy. His hands hovered over Dipper's wrist, not quite touching. "Let me see."
Dipper extended his arm, and Bill's fingers wrapped around it gently—so gentle compared to Malthus's grip that Dipper almost flinched from the contrast. Bill's touch was cool, and that uncomfortable hook-in-his-chest feeling from the proximity spell actually settled for the first time all night.
"Okay, okay, this is—" Bill's eye was fixed on the mark, his expression cycling through several emotions too fast for Dipper to track. "This is a really nasty piece of work, Pine Tree. Like, genuinely impressive in the worst possible way. He really did his homework on you."
"That's not comforting," Dipper said weakly.
"Not meant to be! I'm workshopping my bedside manner!" But Bill's thumb was tracing careful circles on Dipper's inner wrist, just above the mark, and the burning sensation was already starting to fade. "There. That should help. Can't break it yet, but I can... muffle it. Make it shut up for a bit."
Dipper stared at him. "How are you doing that?"
Bill's grin turned sharp. "Because proximity spells create a sympathetic resonance between entities, and I've been resonating with you for three days, so YOUR magic signature is currently throwing a fit about Malthus's bond trying to claim the same space. I'm just... amplifying your rejection of it. Metaphysically speaking."
"I have no idea what that means."
"It means your soul thinks I'm more interesting than him," Bill said smugly. "Which, obviously. I'm VERY interesting."
Despite everything, Dipper felt his mouth twitch. "You're unbelievable."
"I'm VERY believable! I'm standing right here! Extremely tangible!" Bill's expression softened slightly, eye scanning Dipper's face. "You look like you're about to pass out. Again. You've really gotta stop making that your thing, Pine Tree."
"I'm VERY believable! I'm standing right here! Extremely tangible!" Bill's expression softened slightly, eye scanning Dipper's face. "You doing okay? You look like you're about to pass out. Again. You've really gotta stop making that your thing, Pine Tree."
"Maybe if people would stop trying to soul bond me without permission—"
"See, THAT'S the spirit!" Bill squeezed his wrist gently before releasing it. "Keep that attitude when we're dealing with Malthy over there. Speaking of which—"
He spun around to where Malthus was still on his knees, Azaroth crouched beside him with a thoughtful expression. The other demon looked like he was barely holding himself together, face pale and sweating.
"How's that unbinding coming along?" Bill called out cheerfully. "Because I've got a LOT of creative ideas if we need some motivation!"
"Working on it," Azaroth said dryly. "Soul bonds are complex. They require—"
"BORING!" Bill threw his hands up. "Speed it up! Pine Tree's had a very traumatic evening and I'd like to get him home before he actually does pass out! I've got a reputation to maintain and 'let my plus-one die at a party' is NOT the vibe I'm going for!"
Dipper blinked. "You're... worried about me?"
Bill's eye snapped to him, wide and almost offended. "What? No! I'm worried about MY REPUTATION! Totally different thing! If you die while under my protection, it makes ME look bad! Do you know how hard I've worked to build my brand as a terrifying chaos demon? Can't have people thinking I can't even keep one human alive for a single evening!"
"Right," Dipper said slowly. "Your reputation."
"Exactly!" But Bill's hand had drifted back to Dipper's shoulder, thumb brushing against his collar in that same absent way from earlier. "Also you're still technically tethered to me via proximity spell, so if you die, I probably feel it, and that sounds unpleasant. For me. This is all very selfish reasoning, Pine Tree. Don't read into it."
"I wouldn't dream of it." Dipper smiled, "Since you'd probably see it and torture me for envisioning you with bad form."
"EXACTLY. Finally, you get it." But Bill was grinning now, wide and genuine, eye bright with something that might have been relief. "Though I guess if you PROMISED to keep quiet about it, I could slip you whatever weird research mumbo-jumbo comes out of this case study. "Very important scientific observations about forced proximity and its effects on interdimensinal relations!" Bill was gesturing wildly again, energized. "We could write a paper! Very academic! I'll be author one, obviously—"
"Obviously."
"—and you can be author two, and we'll submit it to the Journal of Cosmic Shenanigans—"
"That's not a real journal."
"It is if I say it is!" Bill's grin widened impossibly. "See, this is good! This is productive! We're making the best of a bad situation! Very mature! Very—"
"I've got it," Azaroth interrupted, standing up from where he'd been working on Malthus. "The bond can be severed, but it's going to be... unpleasant."
"Unpleasant for who?" Bill asked brightly.
"For Malthus, primarily." Azaroth's expression was carefully neutral. "The bond was created through deception and coercion. Breaking it will... rebound on the one who forged it."
Bill's grin turned absolutely feral. "Oh NO. That sounds TERRIBLE. We should definitely proceed immediately. For Pine Tree's safety. Very urgent. Chop chop."
Malthus, still on his knees, looked up with genuine fear in his eyes. "Wait—"
"No waiting!" Bill clapped his hands together. "Azzy, do your thing! Pine Tree and I will just stand over here and watch! The kid might take notes!"
Dipper watched as Azaroth's hands began moving through more complex patterns, light gathering around his fingers. Malthus tried to scramble backward, but some invisible force held him in place.
"This is going to hurt," Azaroth warned.
"Good," Bill and Dipper said simultaneously. They looked at each other. Bill's grin widened. "See? We're already in sync! This proximity spell thing is working out great!"
"You're impossible," Dipper said, but he was laughing now, some of the tension from the evening finally starting to ease.
"Impossibly CHARMING," Bill corrected. "Big difference, Pine Tree."
The light around Azaroth's hands intensified, and Malthus screamed.
And after a minute, so did Dipper.
The pain surged again, white-hot and overwhelming, and Dipper felt his legs give out completely. Bill caught him before he hit the ground, arms wrapping around him with a gentleness that seemed impossible from someone who'd been threatening cosmic destruction thirty seconds ago.
"I've got you," Bill was muttering. He was glowing, it made him look like the sun. "I've got you, you're okay, just hang on—"
Dipper closed his eyes and fell asleep in Bill's arms, basking in Bill's sunlight.
Dipper woke up to the smell of pine needles and something burning.
His wrist didn't hurt anymore, which was probably a good sign. His everything else hurt, which was less good but at least familiar. He blinked his eyes open and found himself staring up at a wooden ceiling that he recognized after a moment as the Mystery Shack's living room.
"Oh good, you're not dead."
Dipper turned his head to find Bill sitting in the armchair beside the couch, legs crossed, looking like he hadn't moved in hours. There was a book in his lap that he definitely hadn't been reading, and his human form had that slightly rumpled quality that suggested he'd been sitting there a while.
"How long was I out?" Dipper's voice came out rough.
"Couple hours. Azaroth said the bond breaking would knock you out for a bit. Something about 'metaphysical shock' and 'soul trauma' and a bunch of other boring medical jargon." Bill waved his hand dismissively, but his eye was fixed on Dipper with an intensity that made Dipper's chest feel tight. "How're you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck," Dipper admitted, sitting up slowly. The room spun for a second before settling. "But better. The burning's gone."
"Yeah, Malthus isn't gonna be soul-bonding anyone for a while." Bill's grin was sharp and satisfied. "Turns out breaking a coerced bond has some pretty nasty consequences for the one who made it. Who knew?"
"You knew."
"I suspected," Bill corrected. "Big difference. But yeah, he's not gonna be bothering you anymore. Or anyone, probably. Azaroth made sure of that."
Dipper looked down at his wrist. The mark was gone, just smooth skin where the writhing black lines had been. He flexed his fingers experimentally. "So it's really over?"
"The soul bond? Completely gone. Malthus is probably still crying about it." Bill's expression flickered with something almost uncertain. "The other thing—the tether between us—that'll fade in a week or so. Unless you want me to break it now. Azaroth gave me the instructions."
There was something careful in the way Bill was watching him, like he was waiting for Dipper to demand immediate freedom.
"I mean," Dipper said slowly, "a week's not that long, right?"
"Right." Bill's expression didn't change, but something in his posture relaxed slightly. "But if you want it gone now—"
"No, it's—it's fine." Dipper looked away, suddenly very interested in the pattern on the couch cushions. "You already went through all this trouble—which ugh, I'm not going to hear the end of for a while, am I?. And honestly, after tonight, I don't really want to mess around with my soul and shit for a while."
"You don't owe me anything," Bill said, and his voice had gone oddly quiet. "I wasn't—I didn't do it for a debt, Pine Tree."
Dipper finally looked back at him. Bill was still sitting in the armchair, but he'd leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, watching Dipper with an expression that was almost vulnerable.
"Then why did you do it?" Dipper asked.
Bill opened his mouth, then closed it. His eye flicked away, then back. "Because he hurt you. And I—" He stopped, jaw clenching. "I don't like it when people hurt my things."
"Your things?"
"My—" Bill gestured vaguely, frustrated. "You know what I mean. My problem. Point is, you're mine to annoy, not his. That's the rule."
Dipper felt something warm unfurl in his chest. "So you're saying you have dibs on tormenting me?"
"Exactly!" Bill's grin returned, sharper now. "I've put in work establishing our whole antagonistic dynamic! Some party demon doesn't get to just swoop in and claim you because he drew a clever circle! That's MY job! And It's a very important job! I take it very seriously!" But Bill's eye was bright with something that looked almost fond. "Besides, you're surprisingly good at tormenting. The whole 'hero complex' thing you've got going on is very entertaining. Most humans just cry and beg for mercy. You throw yourself at demons trying to save everyone. It's stupid and reckless and—"
"And?" Dipper prompted when Bill trailed off.
Bill's form flickered slightly. "And I'd be bored without it," he admitted finally.
Dipper laughed, the sound surprising him. "Wow. That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"Don't let it go to your head, Pine Tree." But Bill was grinning now, wide and genuine. "You're still a disaster."
"Right." Dipper shifted on the couch, making room. "You want to sit? You look uncomfortable in that chair."
Bill blinked. "I don't get uncomfortable. I'm a being of pure energy inhabiting a meat suit for fun."
"Bill."
"Fine, yes, this chair is terrible and I've been sitting here for two hours waiting for you to wake up like some kind of worried—" He stopped himself, eye widening slightly. "Like some kind of responsible... person. Making sure you didn't die."
"Very responsible," Dipper agreed, trying not to smile.
Bill moved to the couch in one fluid motion, settling at the other end with exaggerated casualness. "This is purely for comfort. And so I can monitor your condition."
"Of course."
They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the creaking of the old house settling around them. Dipper could feel that awareness of Bill's presence, warm and steady beside him. It didn't hurt anymore. It felt almost... right.
"Hey, Bill?" Dipper said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. For everything tonight. The whole—" Dipper gestured vaguely, his words starting to tumble out faster. "The confronting Malthus thing—I mean, you didn't have to do any of that. You could've just let him take me or whatever, but you didn't, and you were yelling at him you were so—I don't know, you were like—"
He was rambling now, he knew he was rambling, but he couldn't seem to stop.
"— you kind of looked like the sun. Which doesn't make sense because you're a chaos demon and the sun is like, bright and pretty, but you were so bright and I couldn't look away and—"
Dipper's brain caught up with his mouth.
"I mean—not like I think your pretty—I just meant—objectively speaking, the brightness levels were—"
He stopped, face burning, and very deliberately did not look at Bill.
The silence stretched out for approximately three eternities.
"Pine Tree." Bill's voice had gone oddly soft. "Are you saying I'm pretty when I'm threatening people?"
"I didn't say pretty! Did I? I said bright! There's a difference!" Dipper risked a glance over and immediately regretted it because Bill was looking at him with the most insufferable smirk he'd ever seen.
"You think I'm pretty," Bill said, delighted.
"I think you're annoying."
"You think I'm PRETTY when I'm ANGRY." Bill was practically vibrating with glee now. "Oh, this is the best thing that's happened all night. Better than the soul bond breaking. Better than Malthus crying. You—Dipper Pines, hero of Gravity Falls—think Bill Cipher is PRETTY."
"That's not what I said!"
"It's EXACTLY what you said! You said I looked like the SUN!" Bill threw his hands up dramatically. "The SUN, Pine Tree! That's like, the most romantic celestial body! You couldn't have said I looked like a black hole or a supernova or something cool and destructive! You went with the SUN!"
"Everyone knows the moon is the most romantic celestial body" Dipper snarked before he buried his face in his hands. "Can we please forget I said anything?"
"Absolutely not. This is going in my mental diary. Day 47 of knowing Dipper Pines: he thinks I'm as radiant as the sun." Bill's grin was audible in his voice. "I'm never letting you live this down."
"I hate you so much."
"No you don't." Bill's tone had shifted into something softer, almost teasing. "You think I'm pretty, remember?"
Dipper peeked through his fingers to find Bill watching him with an expression that was still amused but had an edge of something warm to it.
"For what it's worth," Bill said, eye bright with mischief and maybe something more, "I think you clean up pretty nice too. Even when you're covered in dirt and nearly dying."
Dipper's heart did something complicated. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"From me? Absolutely." Bill leaned back against the couch, looking far too pleased with himself. "I don't go around comparing just anyone to celestial bodies, Pine Tree. You should feel honored."
"You didn't compare me to anything."
"Give me time. I'm workshopping it." Bill's grin softened slightly. "But seriously. You did good tonight. Holding it together while some creep tried to soul-bond you, not passing out until after everything was over—very heroic. Very you."
"I passed out in your arms," Dipper pointed out.
"Yeah, well." Bill's expression flickered with something almost shy. "Better mine than the floor, right?"
They sat there for a moment, the early morning light starting to filter through the windows, painting everything in shades of gold, including Bill. Dipper was acutely aware of how close they were sitting, of the warmth radiating from Bill's human form, of the way his chest felt too tight and too full all at once.
"So," Bill said eventually, breaking the silence. "A week of being stuck with me. Think you can handle it?"
Dipper looked at him, at Bill Cipher, chaos demon and world-ender, sitting on his couch looking rumpled and almost uncertain in the early morning light.
"Yeah," Dipper said softly. "I think I can handle it."
Bill's grin returned, wide and genuine and maybe a little relieved. "Good. Because I've got a lot of ideas for how to spend our quality forced proximity time. Very scientific. Lots of research on interpersonal dynamics and—"
"Bill."
"Yeah?"
"Shut up for a minute."
Bill shut up.
They sat together in the quiet Mystery Shack, something unspoken but undeniable settling between them. Outside, the actual sun was rising over Gravity Falls, but Dipper found he preferred the golden glow of the demon sitting next to him.
He was definitely screwed.
But maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.
