The shack was quiet. Soos had taken the liberty of shutting business down today, turning away tourists and placing bed sheets over each attraction. It was a convenient spot to meet up. Relatively unaffected by personal belongings and large enough for everyone to sit and scheme.

Dipper sat, knee bouncing, hands turned to fists as he cupped the base of his chin in thought. Dark bags pulled at the soft skin under his eyes, contrasting his tone to the point of almost ghostly appeal. He was an unhealthy shade of white, nails and knuckled blushing pink against albino flesh.

He had hardly slept in days, kept awake by the continual pumping of caffeine and energy drinks. Mabel always advised against it, but what did she know? He was having horrible nightmares.

He froze, hearing pitiful sighs from the kitchen. His grunkles had been told about the news instantly, and Stan had to calm Dipper down on one end and Ford on the other. Supposedly, they had been sailing between the Caribbean and an inter-galactic alien harvest by the time he called them up. But, all plans were dropped once they heard of Bill's resurfacing.

A quick docking. An overnight stay at some two star motel. Five hours worth of traffic and red lights. Dipper was a shaking mess by the time they reached the main land, already bruised beneath both eyes and jittery with coffee. It was a rough reunion, one they began by pretending to be thrilled with. But that only worsened his nerves.

"-he'll go for the kids first, Ford!" Came a harsh whisper. Dipper's eyes lowered, noting the familiar hush of concealed frustration. The sharp scraping of wooden legs against flooring cut off his grunkle's next line. The muffled creaking of weighted steps unused to Soos's newly tiled flooring. There was a groan. A sharp curse.

"Don't you think I know that?! But this isn't the time! We need all the help we can get, Stanley!" He shifted awkwardly, gaze moving to the steps that led upstairs. Mabel had almost instantly made her way to their old room. It was now refurnished and painted, with little white clouds and a blue sky, to comfort the tiny body that slept, curled up, under a mobile dressed in pine trees and shooting stars and six fingers. Soos's own pride and joy, Stan Jr.

She was probably talking to Melody. About the baby. About Waddles. About sweaters and sunshine. She was good like that, Melody. Always level headed and kind-hearted. Dipper could tell why Mabel went to her first, instead of sticking around where he was. His head rolled in his hands, holding back a groan as the whispers became harsher.

"They shouldn't be anywhere near this! Who knows what Bill'll do to them-!"

"They're not children anymore. Look, they've both got something to contribute to this whole ordeal, and we can use that! They're adults, Stanley. We can't keep trying to protect them!"

A raging pound broke through their mute fight, Stan's voice rising beyond the originally established volume.

"Watch me!" Dipper's shoulders bunched up, wincing at his tone. He steadied himself, making sure they couldn't tell he was in the other room, listening in on their conversation. The whole point of meeting back up had been so they could all work together...

He picked out the uncertain shifting of weight from foot to foot, followed by the pulling out of a chair and the smooth rubbing of palms over waxed oak wood.
It was quiet after that. Whether they had stopped talking or simply spoke softer now. Dipper couldn't make out the proceeding words, and so sighed before getting off the couch. It was time for work.

He walked up the few wooden steps leading out of the den, leaning over the stair's banister. Cupping his hand around his mouth, he forced his voice to carry its way upwards, though he felt drained and limp.

"Mabel! It's time to go." He stood, arms draped over the splintering rail that road its way up. A moment passed, Dipper tapping the tip of his shoe against the floor as he hummed to himself, pretending not to see the grunkles peek their heads out of the kitchen to peer at him. Mabel opened the door with a start, coaxing cries from the baby boy in Melody's arms.

"Oh! And make sure to send me his measurements! I'll knit him some footies!" She beamed, leaning in to 'boop' the wailing child on the nose. Melody was undeterred, giggling as she rubbed Stan Jr.'s back soothingly.

"Haha! I'll keep it in mind."

She skipped down the steps, jumping over the last one. Dipper smirked her way, watching Mabel straighten out her sweater before taking his arm.

"Bye, Stan! Bye, Ford!" She called out, tugging him along. The grunkles' reply was melancholy, though forced out with effort and what seemed to be plastic hope. She smiled all the same, trailing Dipper behind her with a hum.

"Dipper says 'bye', too!" Their second response wasn't any brighter than the first. Dipper didn't linger on it. Mabel didn't notice.

They made their way to the car, the shack's screen door transparent, dewed over by mist and morning air. Their steps were grainy, soft and solitary against the dirt road that led to the car. The muffled snapping of twigs could be heard in the distance, coupled with crunching leaves and chirping crickets. It seemed like another peaceful day in Gravity Falls.

The drive was uncomfortably silent, something neither of the twins could ignore. Mabel kept switching between radio stations, going from Pop to R&B to Alternative, only to turn the station off. She'd turn it back on within moments, murmuring to herself as the dial spun. Dipper made several shifting gazes out the window, watching the unsuspecting citizens zip past him and disappear. He began to feel queasy.

"So-!" Mabel began, once again clicking the station away. "You never told me how it went with Wendy~."

Dipper's breath caught in his throat, remembering the lack of details he had given her. Bill's return was in no way a blessing. Not even a blessing in disguise. It was probably the worst thing to ever happen to him. But, being that Bill had come back, he was at least able to stall the conversation.
He and Wendy hadn't seen too much of each other since their... date.

They still texted one another and talked over the phone, but things were weird between them. Wendy assured him that it was 'okay' and that she 'understood' he wasn't ready. It made him burn. Because, in a twisted way, he felt like she meant to coddle him.

Dipper was in no way, shape or form a little kid. He was a grown man. Well, technically speaking, at least. Just barely. He was old enough to drink, that was for sure. And he moved out of his parent's house. He graduated high school, and had a job. He was twenty-two. Technically an adult. No. Definitely an adult.

So, why were people still babying him?

"It was fine." He said, causing Mabel to snort in annoyance. She stuck out her tongue, blowing a raspberry before smacking the edge of her arm chair.

"Oh, come on, Dipper! Don't be such a downer! Tell me more! What was it like? The candle lit dinner! The romance! The-" She paused, rolling her shoulders.

"-kissing~" She followed up her statement with puckered lips, playfully leaning in close to the side of Dipper's face.
He scoffed, though the sagging corners of his mouth began to lift.

"No kissing. No romance. It didn't really... Go as planned." He said finally, lifting a hand to push her away.

"Aw, bro... So she shut you down? Bummer." Dipper almost corrected her, only to shut his mouth. If he explained to her how the night really went, how he had cupped a feel and done ten times more than he thought he'd even do, she'd flip. The questions would come pouring in. She'd ask really weird, really invasive questions about her and him and what it was like and who did what and then she'd call Wendy to confirm it all-

And he'd have to explain how he cut her off. How it was super awkward and rude and he felt like a jerk and a tease and a pervert. How he stopped her from doing anything to him. How her touching felt clunky and unnatural, even though he knew she was far more experienced than he was. She must have known what she was doing. She must have.

He didn't want to say it in front of Wendy, but maybe he was doing something wrong? He was unsure of himself, and things just felt like they were going down hill. Fast. Whatever the case, there was no way in hell he was doing anything until he knew what was off. Something just didn't feel right.

"Yeah... It's whatever. It was still a nice night." He turned the corner, pulling up to Mabel's work. She gave him a look of sympathy, patting him on the shoulder before opening the car door.

"So, you and Wendy are still going strong?"

"Definitely... Probably. I think." He shrugged his shoulders, almost surprising himself with his honest lack of interest. A strange feeling that said, 'Hey. Whatever happens happens.'

Mabel didn't pick up on it, seeing his odd apathy as hidden concern. She gave him a pitiable smile, patting him one last time before exiting the car.

"I'm sure you are." Mabel whispered, sending him nothing but hopeful energy. And doubt. But, Dipper was oddly unaffected.

"I'll pick you up at six." He waved her way, though she was gone by the time his hand was raised.

Sighing, he pulled off of the little store's curb. His hand moved, fiddling with the plastic dial to tune into any local news reports. Now was about the only time he could listen to the broadcasts without Mabel whining.

" -for the weather, here's Multibear."

"Thanks, Chet. Good morning, Gravity Falls. Today's weather will be in the highs with a 73% chance of rain, followed by heavy winds coming in from the east at 6 mph. The time is - *Growl* *Growl* Silence! Sorry about that. Anyways, the time is-"

Dipper listened closely, holding his breath as they spoke. Waiting for them to say something, anything, that retained to Bill Cipher. But, nothing. This case was locked up tight. No one outside of the Pines' residence, a few acquaintances, and the GFPD knew about it. And, it was with strong warnings that everyone kept it that way. This town was already on edge. But, news like this breaking out? It would unleash uncontrollable panic.

Best to keep it zipped.

Dipper pulled up to the grey brick, parking his car and strolling inside. The GFPD was busy as ever, swamped with fluttering papers and crushed Styrofoam cups and ringing phones and typing keyboards. Nowadays, work had even less space. As an employee, it was of course Dipper's duty to report in on the 'Bill Dilemma.' He explained the new body, the dead children, the inky black mess that looked at him with glowing yellow eyes...

And, as he spoke to the newly appointed Chief Blubs about his concerns, something struck him: He had no idea what Bill's new body looked like.

Fuck.

Of course, he had witnessed this thing manifest into a living, breathing abomination. It stood. It walked. It smiled. But, above all, it was still a gooey mush of gunk and stick and goop. Eyes. A mouth. No ears. No nose. Such a basic design, simply to say 'Yup. That's a body.' But, it wasn't a person at all. Not even an identifiable fingerprint at the crime scene. Dipper had spent countless hours with his gear, dusting the floor and walls for remaining bits of sludge and slime. Darkly pressed thumb prints. Hair follicles. Even bodily discharge.

Nothing. Not even a finger nail. There were, of course, the dead teens. Dipper strained to get his samples, but quickly abandoned his theory after the first three tests came back without identifiable results. He couldn't stand to be near those corpses for long. As far as his tests showed, those kids had been killed by a ghost.

Chief Blubs knew better than to doubt, though. The Pines' residence had become somewhat of a reverenced household, following the events of Weirdmaggedon. It was part of the reason Dipper hadn't been completely, absolutely, definitely fired after admitting to sneaking Mabel along and trying to solve the case without backup. He received his share of reprimanding. And, for the millionth time, Blubs threatened to take his badge away. But, again, this wasn't the first time he had said that.

Dipper maneuvered his way through the crowd of new recruits, interns, and extensive help called in. Blubs, after hearing the news, spared no expenses reaching out for extras. New, more experienced hands to help in the case. Staff had easily doubled in most departments. Detectives and officers alike received their fair share of add-ons and 'plus ones', though they were often wasted and used as errand boys.

"Oh-! Excuse me." Said one, ducking under Dipper's arm with a tray of iced coffees.

He looked behind him, watching the boy stroll up to a desk and hastily plop the drinks in front of Mr. Rook, who was twirling the cord of his desk phone. He seemed to smile at the errand boy, waving a hand at him to go away. And he did.

"Well! Good morning, Dipper!" He stiffened, feeling a sturdy, wide palm pat at the arch of his back. "Haven't seen you in a few days!" Chief Blubs' cheeks rounded with his grin, causing the sunglasses he wore to lift just slightly. He gave Dipper a second pat, as though to verify that he really was there.

"Oh. Sorry. I was getting some family matters sorted out." He replied, solemnly. Blubs kept on grinning.

"Ah, of course, of course! Your Grunkles are back in town... They haven't by any chance...-"

"Nothing new, Chief Blubs. I'll make sure to tell you if Ford has a breakthrough, but-... For the time being, we're all in the dark." His face darkened, hearing the tone of his own voice ring through his ears.

Chief Blubs' tongue tutted, hand still placed firmly against his lower back. He ushered him to the elevator.

"Now, Dipper. Don't let this case get you down! We've got a whole new staff to work with! A lot of people are going to be working together and solving this right by your side!" He pressed the level leading to Dipper's department. Silver doors parted, letting the pair step in.

"I understand. But- I don't really 'work' with people, sir-"

"And, that's something you'll have to get used to." Dipper glowered at the remark, facing the metal doors with growing pessimism.

There was a reason he didn't usually ask for help. Not that he couldn't work with people. But, more than anything, people couldn't work with him. He liked taking control of the situation. He could be a bit of a control freak, not that he'd ever admit it. He thought he was right at least 80% of the time. And of that 80%, he was right about 100% of it. Not to mention the other 20%. In short, he was pretty much always right.

It was hard taking in other people's ideas when you knew what was right and what wasn't. Not that he hadn't tried working with others and solving the case together... But it was so boring! They wanted to get warrants and testimonies and 'back up'. Not to say that Dipper didn't do those things, but he definitely didn't enjoy it as much as his old partners did.

Oddly enough, he was considered a loose canon compared to the pencil pushing bottle necks he usually got. That wasn't how he operated. He was used to working with loose canons, not being one! He needed a balance. If it wasn't, he himself became unstable. Without someone to constantly screw around, forcing him to think rationally and maturely, he only worked to spiral into the leading role of a misfit.

"Now, Dipper." The chief began, hand sliding away to shift the glasses on his face. "You know we all appreciate what you and your family did to protect this town."

Dipper looked at the number just above their heads, glowing red with an electric '3'. His department was on level '7'. Holding back a groan, he continued to listen to Blubs' speech.

"And, when I recommended you for the job, I knew you'd be perfect for this department. It's just-" He cleared his throat. "You're a bit unstable on the field. No one wants you working alone with something this big."

"Blubs!" Dipper blurted, instantly biting his tongue as he turned. It just slipped out of him. He hadn't meant to snap like that, but something inside just seemed to pounce when he heard it. This was personal. This whole case was very personal to him. And Blubs knew that.

"Alright. Alright. Calm down. It's just a precautionary. I know I say this a lot, but your job is on the line here, Dipper. You can't just go off all willy-nilly, solving mysteries and making your sister tag along. She didn't choose to work here. You did."

God, Dipper hated how right he was. He turned back around, hands going into either pocket of his bomber jacket as he mumbled to himself.

"How many people am I working with?" He asked finally. Blubs only laughed at his mopey tone, reaching out to rub at Dipper's shoulder reassuringly.

"One. And he's impressive." Dipper's ears perked up for a moment. One. Not that he liked random partnerships, but it was a step up from a group project.

At least, that's what he thought.

The metal doors separated, giving way to Dipper's usual work space. Only... Dipper coughed, fanning his hand across his face as the smoke reached him. His body moved instinctively to one of the tall windows, propping it open to air out the room. Was something on fire? He moved his hands in a shooing motion, trying to waft the clouds outwards.

"Oh, Mr. Angle! We don't allow smoking indoors." Chief Blubs commented lightheartedly. He himself began to fan the smoke from his nose, lifting his glasses and wiping away the fog that lingered. Dipper turned from the window to look at the Chief. He gave him a questioning look, unaware of the body hidden beyond the smoke.

"You don't say? A-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Sorry about that, 'Chief'!" He jumped, letting out the slightest of yelps as a booming voice broke through the thick curtain of smog. His head snapped to the right, where his desk usually way, only to see a crimson red dot searing through the smoke. Dipper coughed again, shifting closer and closer to the cigarette's end, brow pinched as the steam continued to invade his lounges.

Two more puffs came from the stick, only to ash up at the end and be mashed out on the side of his desk. Dipper would have protested, if he weren't so glad it was put out. He hated smoking.

As soon as it was out, the fog seemed to lift. Fresh air quickly overtook toxic air, swooping in like a vacuum. And, as the fog cleared, Dipper was finally able to get a look at 'Mr. Angle.'

There, seated before him, was a dapper man lounging at Dipper's desk. Feet kicked up on the edge, body slumped in his seat, fingers rubbing at the singe mark left by his 'Camel Cigarettes', and completely at home in his space. Dipper stiffened instinctively, viewing the blatant cockiness of it all.

The man had a striking complexion of lightly tanned skin, clean-shaved and without blemish. No freckles or scars, stray hairs or irritation of the flesh. His hair was a rich blond, combed to the side with the slickness of a mobster. It was thick at the roots, so organized and neat that the strands seemed to mold into one collective sheet of silk.

His brows were thin, though the slight elevation they held at the edges provided an air of perpetual narcissism. His eye was lidded and harsh, iris so dark and bold that it appeared almost black. He couldn't make out a varying shade of brown or blue. Simply black. The other eye was covered by an eye patch. And it would have looked silly if he weren't pulling it off so well.

Oh, yes. He pulled it off effortlessly. He wore a crisp white shirt, dark dress pants shot vertically with the thin lining of white threads, and a well-placed bow tie around his neck. His dress shoes were polished black, currently crossing over each other and lying atop Dipper's stack of important files. They seemed to gleam in the sun light, sliding over the glossy black as he nodded his toes to music that wasn't there.

And, above all, the man's face stretched with enthusiasm, fingernail going to tap at his cheek, as he pulled a painful grin. His teeth seemed yellow while also somehow glowing with a pristine whiteness unknown to Dipper.

Dipper stared at him in disbelief, instantly turned off by 'Mr. Angle's' pretentious settlement among his belongings. He noticed, just below the man's rubber heels, a snippet of the crime scene photos he had taken. The ones of the ware house and corpses. The man was getting crumbs of dried mud and grass on them.

"Hey-!" Dipper gasped. His hand went to shoot out to him, shock overpowering his self-control. Blubs cut in without noticing his complaint.

"So, I assume you're getting situated?" His hands went to push at his sunglasses, mirroring the man's reflection right back at him.

"Oh, definitely! Definitely! Great view! Nice location! And I just love the new desk! Very sturdy! What is this? Maple? Pine?" He placed his hand on the desk, knocking at the surface once to make a point.

"It's wood." Dipper crossed his arms, shooting him a look.

Another boom of laughter, abrupt and pleased by the comment. The man's head tilted back, arms going to cross behind his head as he looked to the ceiling in amusement. He hummed to himself, his fit of laughter dying as soon as it had started. A smirk remained on his lips as he began to turn just slightly in Dipper's swivel chair. A moment more, and his sharp eye was looking right at him.

It was only for a second, the black orb roaming his body with an approving roll. He caught a glimpse of porcelain skin peeking out beyond Dipper's shirt collar. His tie had been tightened properly, but the continual slipping of fingers to pull at it made it slack. A bit of his collar popped at the edge, folded against his long neck.

And, as dainty nails went to comb through brown curls, he had a wonderfully hypnotic expression. Angle couldn't help but notice the stern look of slanted eyes and drawn down brows, scowling and almost barking at him. Coupled nicely with a body like that, and he was almost jealous of the fleshling.

'Ooh, He'd look nice on a leash!'

The analysis was cut before anyone could notice, Mr. Angle quickly looking back at Chief Blubs.

"Well, then. Who's the sapling?" His feet slid from the desk, a single photo floating to the floor as he did so. It landed just under the tip of his dress shoe, stepped on almost mockingly.

"My work!" Dipper once again gaped at his arrogance, hands shooting to the air as his disbelief sky rocketed.
He was at the edge of the desk before he knew what was happening, bending down to yank the photo from under his foot. He was on his knees, fingers clamped around the crisp corner, only to feel pressure added when he pulled at it.

Dipper's eyes shot up instantly, a look of disgust smearing over his expression as he viewed the man. Mr. Angle seemed to smile, head now tilted to the side in his hand as he looked on in amusement. The ass hole was intentionally keeping the picture under his foot.

"Move. Your foot." Dipper snarled between bared teeth. The man seemed to pause for a moment, still imagining the younger leashed by the throat to the base of his throne, before coming to his senses and... not lifting his foot. But smiling wider.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't believe we've met. Are you my new secretary?" Dipper's face darkened instantly. There was an electricity behind those eyes, and Mr. Angle was eating it up.

"What the hell? No! I'm-" He shot up to his feet, hands going to plant at his hips as he snarled. But, that only made him that much more appealing. Angle liked them with a bit of fire.

"Hey, hey, hey! Whoa! Back up, kiddo. No need to take things personally." The Chief's palms lifted, imploring Dipper to calm down.

"But, chief- He- He's-"

"-New in town. He didn't know it was your desk. Now, William, would you please get out of my friend's seat? This is his work space."
The man's smile widened, looking to Chief Blubs and then to Dipper.

"Oh, is it?" His hand moved to his chest, feigning innocence. Dipper's lip pulled up in a grimace, seeing right through that shitty little tone. And, even though the guy only had one eye, he almost felt like Angle had winked at him. Tauntingly. He continued.

"I had no idea! Please, take your spot back! I insist." He lifted from the chair with a great show, body snapping to its feet in an instance as his eye went to gaze out the window nobly, like he had given up a great treasure to Dipper. Blubs only seemed to smile, arms crossing with a bit of smug maturity. As if to say, 'now, was that so hard?'

"Why, thank you, William. That was very nice of you. Don't you think so?" The chief looked to Dipper, who was still giving William the death stare. He had a habit of disliking his partners, but this was so much worse than he thought it would be. He already hated the guy!

"Is-..." Dipper began, only to second guess his choice of words. His fingers went to the base of his bottom lip for a moment, mulling over his word choice in front of his boss. He could have gotten fired for what he was going to say. He worried his lip, tempted to say it anyways. But in the end, he chose the nicer route.

"Is this guy my new partner?" He managed, stuffing down the growing groan that was continually climbing up his throat. Blubs looked at him pleasingly, only smiling with a gesture as his attention turned back to the man.

"He's impressive, kid. I think you'll be pleased with his work." Dipper doubted it. This man was probably too pompous to get his hands dirty. He'd bet money on it.
Despite the obviously horrible first impression, they shook hands. The man's fingers were long, firm, and professionally fitted to Dipper's palm. And yet, when he looked at that face, he saw nothing but trouble. Finally, Dipper sighed.

"Pines. Dipper Pines. It's 'nice' to meet you." There was a shock. A pain that road up his spine. The man's grip suddenly tightened at the announcement of his name. Dipper's eyes lifted to meet with his gaze, confusion building as the hand continued to solidify and squeeze. But, when their eyes met, something froze in him. The man looked very... frightening. He looked angry. Surprised, but angry. Dipper began to clam up, suddenly intimidated by the open hostility.

"...Pines?" Angle hissed, knuckles going white with the way his hand muscles flexed from the words. Pines. Dipper Pines. The twelve year old. Dipper gulped, shoulders bunching up as his gaze shifted from the man to Blubs. Was the Chief seeing any of this? Nope.

"Uh, yeah... Pines. You might have heard of my Grunkles before. Stan's pretty well-known in Vegas, and Ford's got a diploma in just about every science." He hoped Mr. Angle would let go after his statement. Maybe Stan had screwed him over? He might have had some bad blood, and felt like getting revenge by proxy. Damn it. That was never good. It wouldn't have been the first time, either.

Angle's thumb seemed to flinch at the statement, bringing him back to life a little. His fingers shook for a moment, nails digging into a bit of his skin, only to relax in an instance. He began to laugh.

"Oh! A-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Forgive me! It's just- Hehe! I never would have guessed the notorious 'Dipper Pines' looked like-" He lifted his left hand, gesturing to the boy. "-This! Hilarious, really!" Dipper's face instantly snapped from afraid to sour. Like 'this'? Like what? God, he knew he was a nerd, but he didn't think it was that bad.

"A-ha-ha-ha." Dipper mocked humorlessly, eyes going to glare at him. Angle just kept on shaking his hand, a brisk up and down motion that seemed to mirror the meeting of a famous celebrity.

"Very funny."

"I know, right?!" He seemed unaffected by the boy's glaring, only soaking up the attention as he growled.

"Anyways, name's William. William Angle: Criminal Mind Expert." He made sure to emphasize the ending with the intent of annoyance. It worked flawlessly, Dipper unable to conceal his eye roll. Or, maybe he wanted William to see it. Just maybe.

"Yeah. Sure. Nice to meet you William: Criminal Mind 'expert'." His hand slipped from William's, going to the air to make quotations as he spoke. If it weren't for Blubs still in the room, those hands would have been making a very different hand gesture. William, seeing the quotations, only nodded playfully. His grin stretched, pulling his skin taut as a hand rose to pat Dipper's shoulder.

"Oh, so formal, sapling!" He hummed, hand becoming uncontrollably stern for a moment as his grip tightened. Anger was beginning to build in him again, though he shoved it away.

'No. Not yet. I can't get to him yet. Not with my meat sack still all weak, or with the fuzz looking for me. I'll lay low. For now, I'll lay low. And wait for him to come to me unsuspecting.'

"Please." William lowered himself just slightly, almost in the same fashion of a partial bow.

"Call me 'Bill'."