By the time they made it inside the mansion, Bill had a proud purple bruise on the right side of his cheek. He made a point of pinching, poking, and prodding at it, enjoying the throbbing sting his bold touches shot through his nervous system. "One hell of a left hook you got there." Bill said, coming off his previous rage and offering Dipper a kind of forgiveness; a way out of the awkward silence. Bill was almost ashamed of himself. To think he'd experienced something so emotional for something so pointless. It was down right pathetic! He'd been around the locals for too long. If he wasn't careful, he might start acting human and go sane. He couldn't have that.

Dipper glared viciously, sending wave upon mental wave of curses on Bill's stupid head. It was one thing to insult Dipper. It was another to insult his sister. Because, it was an insult. At least by his standards. Bill couldn't just have Mabel if he wanted her. Well, he could, but that was only if he knew how crazy she was for him. And, he didn't. He just assumed everybody wanted him. Dipper's lip hitched up as he snarled, remaining silent.

The building was as you'd expect: Abandoned. No lights. No residents. No maids. It was a dusty display of cobwebs and cockroaches. The floorboards had been nibbled away at by starving rats, too dull to find an exit route and escape. Every step creaked beneath their feet, even the subtle shifting of weight was documented with sound. Holes shot through the house, where thriving termites threatened to eat the very foundation of the walls and fold in on the two. Dusted, grey paintings untouched by time hung over the walls with the stiff stance of marble slabs. Riding its way to the very top, a glorious banister, now broken and peeled, was the first thing to greet them at the front door. And just above them was a glorious chandelier, constructed of crystals and blown out bulbs. A dusty rope held it up with what looked like a couple of strands yet to give way.

"Bet this place was a pretty little piece in its hay-day. It went from the Taj mahal to McRonald's bathroom real quick, didn't it?" Bill whistled, asking more himself than Dipper. Hey, if the kid wanted to play cold shoulder, Bill wasn't about to throw him a bone. Dipper was a pet. A toy. Entertaining in its fleeting existence, but quickly dropped once the magic dissolved. If he kept up the act, it wouldn't take Bill two seconds to contemplate his next move: Throw the doll away. Dipper didn't so much as glance his way, whipping out a flashlight to counter the darkness.

"We should split up. We'll cover more ground that way." Dipper suggested. Bill laughed, doubling over at his partner's stupid suggestion.

"Oh, yeah. Sure, sure, Fred. Good idea. I haven't heard that before." He snorted, giving Dipper a once over. Has this kid watched a single horror film in his life? He had to be joking. "And let me guess: You want us to check the basement first, right?" Dipper didn't react to the comment, turning left as he began to walk towards what used to be a dining hall.

"I'm taking left. You take right. If something goes wrong, you've been issued a walkie-talkie. We'll meet back up in thirty minutes."

"You're not the boss of me." Bill scoffed. Dipper said nothing, walking farther and farther into the house, his light slowly being eaten away by darkness. Cipher was impressively conflicted at the moment, trying to balance out 'no one should ever treat me like that' with 'is this what a boner feels like?'

"Fuck it." Bill decided, turning on his flashlight and walking down the mansion's right hallway. Echoed footsteps bounced along the walls as he made his rounds, crossing through what looked to be an old reading room. Plastic tarps were draped over the bits of furniture: A long velvet couch, a few love seats, a piano bench, and a small table sitting right by the window. The curtains were drawn close, making every dust particle his light shone over glisten in the pitch black room. No pictures were hung there. Each wall was blocked by long, proud book shelves that showcased everything from 'Madame Bovary' to 'Othello'.

Bill sighed in frustration, already bored beyond comprehension at his job description. Look for a monster in this damp hole? What a snooze. He contemplated just ditching the kid for a while- let him worry. Sit back and wait for Dipper to find him. He'd be steaming mad if Bill did that. There's no way he wouldn't break his vow of silence to tear into him. And, once it was all over, Dipper would be too spent to be upset anymore and Bill'd have his precious little puppet back.

It was annoying when Dipper acted so pissy. Besides, it's not like Bill had to do what he said anyways. Why should he go looking for it? Why should he follow Dipper's directions? Because, hot damn, the fleshling was one fine piece of skin when he got bossy. Alright, okay. Fine. Bill turned, aiming for the corridor just right of him, shining his flashlight into the dark hallway of pitched tiles, only to catch the tune of tiny footsteps. He looked up, half suspecting to see fury rats scutter along the ceiling beams, hissing, biting, and being otherwise feral. But, there was nothing.

The sound grew louder; closer. And, with every inch gained in proximity, the image in Bill's mind seemed to grow as well. It was larger than a bread box, for sure. Light, or heavy? It depended on what it was. A dog? Maybe a large cat? Or... What they'd come here for. The footsteps seemed to be advancing on him, nearing his direction with a sense of purpose. Perhaps to kill him. In which case, he'd have to burn them alive. It'd be a hassle explaining the singed corpse to Dipper.

That seemed to be Bill's only hang up about the whole ordeal. He turned, facing the direction of the approaching body, hands shoved into his pockets. It wouldn't even be a challenge. The noise grew near, until its dark shadow was just outside the doorway, standing and staring at Bill's illuminated figure. A stretched, barbaric smile cursed his cheeks.

"H-hello?" Came a meek voice. Suddenly, Bill's smile dropped. That voice was too annoying to be a coincidence. He'd heard it not even an hour before. Lifting his flashlight, he shot a bright yellow ray at the figure who covered its face, shielding its eyes from the burn.

"Well!" Bill chuckled, beaming brightly at Abby in all her glory. "What're you doing here?" The girl froze, remembering him from earlier. She gave him a look of concern, something Bill was amazingly suspicious of. The girl had warned them of a monster willing to eat the two, and now... She was in its evil lare... Odd.

"I- I-." Abby began, hands clasped behind her back, looking at her cutely polished shoes. She cleared her throat, averting her gaze from the man. "I didn't w-want you two to-... S-so I foll-owed you. I-I came to help..."

"Is that so?" Bill cooed, taking a step forward. The girl stepped back, looking him up and down. She was assessing him... "In that case, come on in! My partner has his hands full. He could use all the help he can get!" And, bringing a little girl along on a hunt for a shapeshifting murderer? Oh-ho-ho! Dipper's gonna go ballistic! Abby hesitated endlessly, looking from behind her to the front of her, where Bill stood, open arms and smiling, waiting for her to join him.

"I really just came to get you guys out of here... You shouldn't be in his house." Bill grinned at her. She sounded oddly hostile all of a sudden. Or, maybe that was just him.

"Oh, it's fine. It's fine! The stupid monster won't gobble you up, okay? Promise." Abby seemed slightly irritated by his comment, but remained otherwise calm.

"Are you sure?" She asked. Bill nodded, grinning and humming and yesing.

"Absolutely. Come along, girly." He beckoned for her to follow him into the next hallway. She trailed him blindly. Abby stayed close, trying repeatedly to hold Bill's hand in the dark house. He made sure to keep it out of reach every time. It was risky making too much physical contact with children. Might soften him internally. Instead, he stood tall, creating an imaginary wall that only existed within the confines of a child's mind. If he pushed her away enough, she'd get the idea.

"So, Abby was it?" Bill inquired. As he did, he placed his flashlight between his shoulder and his cheek, keeping it in place as he lit a cigarette. Smoking in front of children? Dipper was going to literally kill him. "What are you into?" Time to interrogate the suspect.

"Huh?" She asked dumbly, mind wandering on plains Bill couldn't reach. He smiled, patting her head sweetly, though stiff and deprived of any real affection.

"What are you into, kid? What do you like to do?" Bill asked again, his smile flesh splitting and painful in all aspects. The girl seemed confused, expression drawn by conflicted meanings and plans.

"Uh, I-. I-. You know, um-." She wiggled her fingers together, eyes shifting away as she looked to the floor. "Just... Girl stuff."

"Girl stuff? Like what?" Bill peered down, forcing the girl to gaze upon his callus features. She seemed to literally shrink in size.

"Um... My mommy told me not to tell strangers about myself."

"Really? Fascinating! Tell me more!" Abby stiffened, noting the mockery in his tone. His voice was loud, booming throughout the hallway with arrogance and self satisfaction. He absolutely loved the sound of his own voice. The child's lips curled inwards, frowning as she shook her head at him. Bill just tutted his tongue. "No need to be shy, kiddo. I don't bite."

"There's nothing to t-tell... I'm normal. There's nothing else to say."

"Normal? That's a weird way of phrasing it. Is there any reason for me to believe you're not normal?"

"N-no!" Abby squeaked, brow pinched as she stared up at him. The innocent look only worked to incriminate her.

"I just-."

"Bill?" A familiar voice echoing from the end of the hallway cut off her excuse. Bill looked up a bit more excitedly than he would have liked, compensating it with a dull expression. He lifted his flashlight, Dipper's slender form casting a long black shadow behind him.

"What're you doing here?"

"What do you mean 'what'? I went searching in the right hallway, at your majesty's orders." He bowed with derision, looking up all the while to give his signature grin. "What are you doing here? Thought you went snooping around on the left side."

"I got turned around a little. This place is a lot bigger than I thought." Bill snickered, loving the look of obvious confusion scribbled all over his face. This guy was hopeless.

"Sucks to suck, pal." Bill paused, looking to Dipper's empty hands. Oh, that's rich! "Hey, where's your flashlight, cutey?" There's no way he's that clumsy! No way-!

"I lost it in the mix up." Bill couldn't help but laugh at Dipper's misfortune, smirking as he shook his head in disappointment.

"Losing GFPD equipment? It's gonna come outta your paycheck." He sang fondly, playfully booping Dipper on the nose. He didn't shy away as Bill suspected he would. Instead, he simply took it, wrinkling his nose as the slight tap tingled his senses. "No matter. We can always share." He purred his tease, moving in on Dipper to wrap an arm around his wonderfully slender waist.

"Okay." Dipper said simply. He joined hands with Bill, linking fingers with the ones already wrapped around the flashlight, acting casual and indifferent to the contact. For others, this may have looked like a kind of unspoken forgiveness, accepting generosity and closing the gap that separates two physically. But, this was far from it. He had ascended to a whole other level of cold shouldering. It was even worse now. Now, he was talking. He was interacting on a professional level. In such a way that it deprived the partnership of any spice or flavor. He'd had enough of Bill's bullshit.

Because, now, he was refusing to react or behave in his usual manner. Dipper was being distant. Very, very distant. So much so that he didn't comment on the smoking. He didn't comment on the little girl. He didn't comment on Bill's hand rested teasingly on his lower back, pinky finger playing tug-o-war with Dipper's belt loop. He was stone faced. Uncaring. Bill was disappointed to say the least, but he could always fix him later. They'd patch things up no problem. Dipper would get tired of playing the victim and finally cut the shit. Because, if he didn't-. Well, it was obvious what would happen.

"So, where to, partner?" Bill asked, pulling him even closer. No reaction.

"Wherever's fine, as long as we get this done quickly." He replied, not sparing Bill a glance.

"Quickly? What are you, scared?" He teased. Again, no reaction. And, by the way his stance remained firm and collected, it didn't seem to be getting to him either.

"No." Dipper's tone was flat, eyes trained on the light just ahead of him. It was almost like a newly invented ignoring technique, and Bill wasn't liking it. Not at all. He wasn't giving Bill the comical payoff his teasing usually got him. That wouldn't do.

"Sure, you're not. I'll bet none of us are scared, right Abby?" He made a direct comment towards the little girl trailing behind, as though trying to sneak away into the darkness. She was most likely just falling back, though. She was a little girl after all. Bill hoped to arouse a kind of wrath in Dipper, just in case he hadn't properly seen the girl before.

"Uh-. I-I'm scared." That's it, girl. Play scared. Be scared. Dipper won't be able to hold back-.

"Then you should head home. We won't be long here anyways." He shrugged, looking behind him with a plain expression. Bill didn't show it, covering his irritation with smug indifference, but underneath his act, he was gritting his teeth. He was just being immature at this point. Fuck him.

"No! I wanna help." She fought, fists balled up in determination. The kid sure was persistent. Dipper just shrugged.

"Suit yourself." He sighed, shoulders relaxed and passive. Bill couldn't take much more of his attitude. He was about ready to release his waist and carry the flashlight by himself, when Dipper began to lean in on him.

"Pst. Bill." Dipper shot at him quietly, just out of earshot of Abby. Bill would have sung at his initiation of conversation, if it weren't for his pride. "Why is there a little girl in here? What's going on?"

"Found the kid that you were being all motherly to in the reading room. Said she wanted to help."

"Hmm... Suspicious."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"And she just showed up out of nowhere?"

"Yeah. I've been dragging her around so we could decide what to do with her. It. Whatever."

"You think she's the shapeshifter?"

"I know she's the shapeshifter. What am I, stupid? Get with the program, Dippy."

"What should we do about her?" Dipper peaked behind him, making sure Abby couldn't hear. She stared at the two, eyes wide; piercing. But, her features seemed deprived of understanding. They were in the clear for now.

"Kill it?" Bill offerened. To his surprise, Dipper didn't seem too against the suggestion. Instead, he cocked a brow up.

"How?"

"How? Dipper, we're cops. Where's your gun?"

"I didn't bring it."

"What-?"

"Did you bring yours?" Bill's hand smoothed against the slick feel of hard leather, gracing his fingertips pleasantly. And, within its confinements, was his wonderfully empowering weapon. He wasn't an idiot like Dipper. Of course he had. Instead of giving a verbal response, he patted the device against his hip, flashing a cocky smile. Looks like Bill was gonna save the day.

"Good." Dipper nodded curtly, looking behind him again. Her eyes met his under a bit of her forehead, having been looking down before. It was a menacing sight, cloaking the base of her face in a dark shadow. "When we get out of this hallway, I'll hold her down and you pull the trigger, okay?" Bill shrugged indifferently.

"Okay." He wasn't exactly up for taking orders from Dipper of all people, but if it meant finally getting to fill something with lead, he was all ears. They took a few more steps, strolling leisurely as the hallway stretched on, only for a break to be made. They ended up circling around right back to the entrance, chandelier still cracking and steps still creaking. It was a wide enough space for whatever shape the girl intended on taking once cornered. She'd fight back if they gave her the chance. It was good to be prepared for that. Their next movements came without thought or words, simply moving into position. Bill whipped out his gun, looking at the girl with cold, dead eyes. She squeaked, backing away from the armed man.

"What are you-?" She felt hands clutch her shoulders from behind, causing her to cry out in fear. Abby looked up, seeing none other than Dipper holding her in place. "W-what's going on-?"

"Cut the shit, shapeshifter. We're not falling for your tricks." Abby went bug eyed at the comment, as well as the horribly foul language.

"Sh-shapeshifter..? What are you t-talking ab-out?!" She began to shake, using her little fingers to claw away Dipper's bruising grip.

"Don't play dumb, princess. I think we both know what I mean." Bill lifted his gun, barrel aimed right at her temple. She began to sob, thrashing around in Dipper's grip. In all honesty, Bill was intentionally biting his time. He'd expected the shapeshifter to-. Well, shift. It would've been pretty cool to see, and the form it would take made him curious. The only thing stopping him from pulling the trigger was just that. Why wasn't it fighting back?

"Pl-please! Please, please, please! I didn't mean to-! To do whatever it is you think I did, but-!" She stopped, choking on a sob as Dipper's grip tightened.

"What are you waiting for, Bill? Pull the trigger before she can shift." Bill's eye met Dipper's, an expectant gaze steeped in high stakes and pressure. He knew Dipper was right. In that moment, Bill needed to pull the trigger. But, something felt off. Just a little, something seemed wrong. Either way, when Bill looked at his partner, he knew what the correct choice was.

"Right." Bill responded, readying his firearm with steady hands. Abby started screaming her head off, looking down the cold black barrel with pleading eyes.

"No! No, no, no! Stop! STOP!!!" Bill remained calm, left hand going to cock back the slide, a sharp 'chi-chick' making the little girl sob even harder. After a moment of dull silence from the two partners, Abby's cries the one thing filling the room, Bill's finger began to slide against the trigger. Heavy footsteps came bounding down the hallway to their left, swift and purposed with an untainted wrath, forcing all three figures to redirect their attention.

"Bill, pull the trigger." Dipper ordered, trying to regain Bill's lost attention. It was no use. He was looking expectantly down the hallway, those steps coupled with harsh, frantic breathing, racing after something far beyond. He stood there, gun still pointed at the girl, anticipating the new party member. "Bill, now-!"

A second flashlight came into view, shining on the three with wobbling hands. Its feet cut across the floor, forcing its body to snap to a halt, meeting Bill's eye in the entranceway with a small pant. It was Dipper.

"Bill, what's going on?! I heard screaming, and-!" The room went silent as a slaughterhouse, all eyes trained on what appeared to be a doppelganger. The second froze mid-sentence, catching sight of Dipper gripping a crying Abby by the shoulders. "What the fuck?" He looked at Bill pointing his gun at an obviously frightened little girl, shaking and begging for mercy just moments before. His head snapped from Bill to the now silent child to 'Dipper,' still holding her in place. For the first time in a long time, Bill was baffled. "...Dipper?" Bill stared at him, his right arm wavering as his barrel began to dip, mouth falling open just slightly as he examined the new addition.

"But-. But, that guy's-." Something clicked in his mind, turning back at the obvious imposter. Abby wasn't the shapeshifter. Dipper was. Bill was unable to smile at the man standing before him, now seemingly shielding himself with the girl's frail body. He'd made a fool of Bill. Without moving his hand away or averting his aim, he gazed upon 'Dipper' with a new eye. A new face. "The shifter." Bill growled, finger twitching against the trigger once more. He would've pulled it too, if he didn't still have Abby as a mini shield. He couldn't risk killing the little shit. It'd ruin his reputation as a respectable cop, after all.Not to mention Dipper would never let him live it down.

"So, it was you..." Bill grew dark, face contorting into something otherworldly as all other rationals blanked from his mind. 'Dipper' suddenly seemed far less collected, breaking into a sweat.

"What- No, Bill. You've got it all wrong, partner! He's trying to trick you. Don't let him-!" Bill's cold expression was enough to cancel all additional excuses. 'Dipper' grit his teeth brutishly, facial features starting to waver and bubble away as his cool was broken. He had only so many options now. The first having been using Abby as a scapegoat. And, once the extra body was out of the way, he could take out Bill. Then, Dipper. He suspected Dipper of being a real screamer, as he was when he met him in the bunker. So, killing him before taking his place hadn't been an option. It would've been hard coming up with a place to stash the body, for one. And he could never clean off all the blood. If they were seperated, it would've been just as easy to play pretend and pick them off one by one. But, that hadn't worked out as well as previously assumed.

'Dipper's' thoughts were interrupted by the subtle creak of wood where Dipper stood by the doorway. He was staring right at Abby. "Holy shit, Bill. Please, don't tell me you let a little girl in here! And-." Dipper paused, looking to Bill's feet, where he'd silently snuffed out his cigarette. "Were you smoking? Oh, Jesus."

"You see?" Bill looked at 'Dipper,' smiling with something that parodied warmth as he nudged his head in Dipper's direction. "That's Dipper. A real charmer, don't you think?"

"Up yours." Dipper shot. Bill laughed.

"Yup. That's you, alright." He smirked at his partner, giving a bare wink just to confirm even farther how Dipper this guy was. Not even a smile in return. What a queen.

"You-. Damn humans! It's not fair! Who says you get to live in luxury, while guys like me live in the gutters, huh? I'm sick of roughing it out in the woods!"

"Be glad we let you roam free when you escaped the bunker." Dipper responded, crossing his arms with a huff. Bill wasn't sure what they were talking about, nor did he care. All he knew was that he'd been bamboozled by some low class monster in his 60s, and he was ready to pop a cap in his ass.

"So, you killed them because... What? You were lazy? You wanted an apartment? Money? Didn't think the natural life was right for you?" Dipper continued, glaring at his doppleganger. "That's shit."

"Easy for you to say!" His hold of the child became ridiculously tight as he shook her on impulse. Abby whined mindlessly, confusion warping her thoughts beyond repair as she tried to sort out the gun pointing directly at her, as well as the young officer's evil twin brother. "You're not the one forced to live like this."

"You're not gonna be living at all in about three seconds. Drop the girl, Ditto." Bill ordered, hedging his bets with a step forward. 'Dipper' stepped back, bringing the girl with him.

"Take another step and I'll turn into a guillotine."

"You'll be dead before then." Bill responded effortlessly. He held his gun in place, getting a solid aim of the shifter's forehead. Was he allowed to shoot? The shapeshifter did have a hostage after all. But, if he released the girl, could he still kill him? Just for the hell of it? Bill wasn't sure. Either way, he was sure 'Dipper' was thinking over his options. The shapeshifter's stance was altered, both hands moving to cling onto Abby's left sleeve, knees bent just slightly, looking from left to right as he thought. He seemed unsure of himself, mulling over his next, and possibly final, move. It was now or never. 'Dipper' broke out in a smile, viewing Cipher with triumph.

"Not if you can't find me." In an instance, he was shoving the girl in front of him, forcing Abby to stumble forward and cling to Bill's pant leg for support. Cipher looked down on impulse, bursting with curses as he looked back up, only to see Dipper and 'Dipper' tussling for dominance. 'Dipper' collided with Dipper, bringing them both to the floor, a fight ensuing as one or the other started swinging. Bill growled loudly, pulling Abby to her feet and ordering her away. She was quick to comply, racing for the door and slammed it behind her, screaming all the while.

"Damn it, kid! Are you serious?!"

"Fuck you, Bill!" One of them said. Bill wasn't quite sure which. He got his gun back in position, aiming senselessly at the moshpit of twink-wars that went on before his feet. It was almost hot, if it weren't for the fact that he had to kill one of them. Bill groaned, smacking his hand against his forehead as one got on top of the other, only for a fist to send the other flying, followed by a knee jab from the bottom into his gut. There was no way he was killing Pinetree. Not like this! He had made too many plans to end it with a stupid gun shot. It'd be a waste of scheming. Besides, he could lose his credibility killing his partner. Then, he wouldn't be able to get close to Shooting Star and kill her, followed by Sixer, followed by Fez. There were too many obstacles. He still needed Pinetree. For now.

"Marco!" Bill shouted.

"Polo!" They both shouted back.

"Oh, come on, baby boy. Give me something to work with here! What's your favorite color?"

"Like you'd know what my favorite color is!" One of them growled back. Again, Bill wasn't sure which. He sighed, gun moving left and right, up and down, hoping to get lucky and just kill it by chance. Well, the one being pinned down had eyes just a tad darker than the one above him. But, then again, The one above looked slightly bulkier, kind of... Or, maybe that was just a trick of the light.

"Any chance I can get a second opinion?" The one being pinned was about to speak, only for the 'Dipper' on top to shut him up with a right hook. The bottom Dipper growled loudly, his fist colliding with top Dipper's nose, making it gush with blood. In retaliation, top Dipper grabbed his neck, squeaking him with his right hand, and gripping at his shirt sleeve with his left. Bottom Dipper fought back, keeping a tight hold of top Dipper's right wrist, slashing his nails across his attacker's left cheek.

"You little shit!" Top Dipper grunted, tightening his grip. Bill almost contemplated letting the superior Dipper win. He could play pretend, right? Wrong. It wouldn't be as fun messing with an imposter. That is, if he was hanging with the imposter. In which case, he'd be in perpetual uncertainty for the rest of the summer. He couldn't do that. Luckily, he didn't have to. Top Dipper tugged harshly on bottom Dipper's shirt sleeve, forcing it to rip off the seams. And there, perfectly exposed, wonderfully individual and unique, was a hint Bill would've never suspected of Dipper.

A tattoo.

And, not just any tattoo. A Pinetree. How flattering! The shapeshifter could've easily copied the birthmark across Dipper's forehead if he wanted to. It wasn't as easy to hide since he'd hit puberty and his hair started curling of its own accord. In many cases, it peaked out beneath the soft swift of his brown strands and gave far too much away. But, that tattoo had been covered well. Bill never once saw it; stained blue against his shoulder and proudly outlined in black. There's no way the shapeshifter would have known to add that detail. The sharp click of Bill's glock had both Dippers staring up in absolute fear.

Bill stood there, looking down at the wonderfully frightened bottom Dipper, pinned by the shoulder and neck, face slightly reddened from choking, clothes a mess, and expression both timid and submissive, as well as rebellious in its own speed. How had he not seen it? It was too obvious now. He trained his mind to remember that glorious expression, before pulling the trigger on top Dipper, blowing his brains out. Dipper's eyes widened, staring at Bill, body stiffening as the imposter on top of him collapsed across his chest, blood decorating Dipper's shirt collar. He breathed through his nose, trying with all his might not to break into a panic attack. But, the body was still warm and pulsing with blood. Dipper would've screamed in terror if he weren't slightly more relieved, knowing Bill had chosen the correct target.

"Y-You-." Dipper began, only for the shock to overtake his throat. He took a moment, forcing himself to sit up as the body slid away, now lying lifelessly in his lap. The Shapeshifter was weighty against his thigh, nerves twitching as his neck and back muscles convulsed against the bullet lodged in his frontal cortex.

'Don't scream Dipper don't freak out don't freak out remember what dad told you keep a cool head about these types of things you knew what you were signing up for when you took the job offer this is what cops do Dipper this is what we do.'

He began to shake, feeling the Shapeshifter's warm, heavy blood seep into his shirt. He could just make out the white strings of his buttons soak up the crimson soda, marking him red all over.

Dipper wasn't sure he would be able to stand on his own, only to feel a pair of hands grip the undersides of his arms. He yelped instinctively, only to turn and see Bill. Whether of his own free will or something natural inside him, Dipper's heartbeat slowed and he was able to breathe a bit more evenly. He was pulled to his wobbling legs, knees shaking as he fought to keep himself up. It was okay, though. Bill was there to hold him up if he stumbled.

"Alotta blood..." Dipper murmured, keeping his eyes trained on the drops of blood that shot across his palms. Did people really have that much in them?

"First time?" Bill laughed heartily, patting Dipper's head. The subjugating gesture brought him back a little more, willing a frown against his perpetually stunned expression.

"H-how did you know it was m-me?" He managed, turning to look back at Bill, still holding him up from behind. If it weren't for the queasy flop of his stomach as well as his disoriented footwork, Dipper was sure he would have stomped on Bill's toes by now. But, he didn't. He needed Bill as a crutch, whether he wanted it or not. And, in a very odd way, the contact was kind of... Comforting. Bill didn't answer his question directly, instead flashing a cocky smile. Bill leaned his head down, nuzzling his chin into the smaller's neck before breathing into his ear.

"I like your tattoo." He teased, savering the rigid tightening of Dipper's back muscles as he did. "You should show it off more. That much skin looks good on you." To his surprise, Dipper started to laugh at his compliment; a shaken, awkward laugh deprived of actual humor, but there in place of what he really wanted to do. And what did he want to do? Well, by the taut pull of his jeans, Bill could take a guess.

Dipper's mental wall had come down momentarially due to shock. Bill knew that much. He was shaken up by all the blood. The violence. No way in hell would Dipper have considered subconsciously flirting with his partner in the presence of a corpse otherwise. And, so much more openly, too. Must have been tiring for his brain, keeping what he really felt repressed for so long. He needed a little break. A taste of his temptation. To throw his a bone before he snapped his gates closed again and likely suppressed this memory, too. Along with everything else the kid hated about himself. For now, the wall was down, and only when it had its fill would Dipper come back and rebuild it.

"Y-yeah?" Dipper mused weakly, playing with his top button smeared in blood. Bill was loving that. He looked pretty good in it.

"Yeah." Bill purred back, pulling Dipper back just a little more before smoothing his lips over Dipper's exposed neck. It felt good, the soft skin rising in temperature against Bill's pursed lips, hairless and dotted in drops of blood. Dipper surged for a minute, mind and body colliding instantaneously, unsure of what he was doing or why it was wrong or right or whether he wanted it or not. Bill grazed the base of his throat, focing a hum from his throat. He seemed to relax all of the sudden, like a switch being turned off. Or on. Either way, the wall was down and Bill was getting what he could from it.

Bill opened his mouth, letting his snake like tongue pick at Dipper's dried sweat, as well as the potent tang of iron. He took everything into account, feeling Dipper push against him without thought, sensing an odd stir within his own gut. The kid was a wonderfully responsive specimen, after all. It wouldn't be that hard for him to arouse excitement in others. He lifted his tongue, riding it all the way up to the back of Dipper's ear, forcing the smallest of whimpers from the boy's throat. Bill chuckled darkly, biting at Dipper's earlobe before humming fondly.

"You like that?" Bill's palms moved from around Dipper's waist, now freelancing along the sides of his hips and down to his thighs. In Between them, just short of touching anything. Rubbing. Just rubbing the skin, stimulating the hard on above. "Tell me what you like. Tell me what you're into." The boy didn't respond, only huffing harder and louder as Bill's tease stumped him. He was into a whole bunch of shit, actually. But his mind was too far gone to properly articulate anything beyond his pitiful moans. Dipper turned his head, leaning away just slightly to get a good view of the man behind him.

Handsome. So, so handsome. And clever on top of that. Smart. Mysterious. Cocky as all hell, but it was wonderfully exciting at the moment. He wanted more of Bill. He wanted a taste of that horribly narcissistic asshole. Without warning, Dipper leaned in and kissed Bill square on the mouth. Bill was shocked to say the least, but he quickly got a hold of the situation. Their lips smashed against each other, heads turned to properly cradle either of their faces in the bruising lip lock. It was a good bit of fun feeling the heat build within Bill's groin, pressed searingly against Dipper's own erection.

The kiss quickly felt too chaste, and Bill bit the smaller's bottom lip before forcing his tongue in. Dipper didn't protest, though. He was too busy breathing, moaning, and slowly rocking his hips against Bill's thigh. Their tongues tangled with one another, wrestling endlessly as Dipper's fingers combed through his hair, and Bill finally got a proper hold of his puppet's pert ass. Bill was getting obsessively used to the human's lips pressed against his, mindlessly hoping to get to test out his hard on just once that day. That was when Dipper pulled away with a pop, dazed, looking up at Bill almost cross eyed.

The faint, child like grin across Dipper's lips instantly dropped when he saw his partner. Bill's lips were covered in blood. Not his blood, and not Dipper's. He brought a finger to his own lips, smoothing it across his swollen skin to feel the satisfying slide of blood against glossy arches. When he went to examine his hand, it was covered in nothing but blood. When he looked down at his shirt he was soaked in it, and so was Bill. Blood. He was covered in blood. Dipper began to shake, refusing to look behind him and note the body bleeding out. His eyes began to gloss over. Looking up, not at Bill, but somewhere close to him, he spoke in a whispering tone.

"W-... Will i-it wa-sh out...?"

"What?" Bill asked, not sure if he heard him right. Damn it. The kid was shutting down already.

"W-w-w-w-will the bl-... Will- Will it-?" Dipper began to convulse, shaking, frightened and lost as he clasped onto Bill's stained shirt, rubbing his burnt eyes against Bill's shoulder. He hiccuped once. Twice. Shivering and rocking and whining as the wall slowly rebuilt itself and the entire situation was locked up in a safe vault thirty leagues under the sea for him to never look into ever again. That was when Dipper collapsed into Bill's arms, having fainted out of panic. The next day, Dipper returned to his usual routine, having woken up in his bed with no recollection of the day before, aside from searching the mansion, fighting the shapeshifter, and vaguely recalling Bill buckling him up in the passenger's seat. Bill refused to disclose any further details.