Pacifica paced about the shack, massaging her hands anxiously. She turned to her phone, the bedazzled brick's antenna snapped up against the wall, lying on the bed.

"He'll be fine... He'll be fine. The only reason he'd call me is if something went wrong..." She threw herself on the bed, draping her arm over her eyes. Her shift didn't start until twelve on sundays, which left her with plenty of time to relax. That is, if she could get him out of her head. Which was hard. They'd only known each other for as long as the summer had run, and yet felt a connection. A very... odd connection. But, nonetheless, a connection. Like the love story of a unicorn and a vampire. Kinda wrong, but kinda sweet. She began to smile.

"He's fine. I'm sure he's fine..." She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She waltzed over to the window, leaning her face towards the glass. It was murky. A solum blue. The kind that could swallow you whole if you let it. It seemed soft and cozy, yet left a strange taste in her mouth. Something seemed wrong about today. She turned to her alarm clock. It wasn't even ten yet. Two whole hours of doing nothing, waiting for Dipper to call her because she only gave him her number, and not vice versa. She could walk to his house, but feared the worse. If his grunkle Stan or Mabel answered, she wouldn't know what to do. That's when her phone rang. She dove for it, her face mashing into the sheets as her phone tweeted it's shrill rings. She looked at the collar ID, an unknown number flashing at her. It had to be him.

"Oh Shit. Oh Shit. Oh Shit!" Pacifica went on, bouncing to her feet.

"Alright. Calm down. We got this." She said, taking a breath. She pressed the "answer" button, lying back on her bed.

"Hellooooooo?" She began, only to panic. "Wait! No! Let me try that again!" She heard cawing in the background. The caller didn't respond instantly, a few muffled screams just beyond the speaker.

"PAZ!? Where are you?!" Shattered glass came from the background.

"Dipper? Are you okay?"

"No time to explain! I- SHIT! Paz! Paz, listen! I'm gonna need- uh- Lighter fluid-" A grown man's gurgled screams rose from the background. "A weedwacker-" A car engine's bark stretched on, hearing a familiar voice shout, "It won't start!" Dipper's voice snapped away from the receiver, pointed at the person. "DAMN IT! Turn on the windshield wipers!" Their bickering began to escalate.

"Dipper? Dipper, what's going on!?" Pacifica persisted.

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Coat hangers! Lots and lots of coat hangers! And- maybe some bread? Whole wheat, probably? I-I don't know. Wendy, whole wheat or the white stuff?" A moment of incoherent mumbling before he snapped back to the phone. "Okay! Forget the bread! Just-"

"Dipper! I think I got it!" Wendy's shaking voice confirmed. A blackened cough came from what sounded like a car engine's kick starting.

"Fuck yes! Punch it!" Dipper cheered.

With that, there was a huge crashing sound, and the receiver cut off.

"...Dipper?" Pacifica questioned, holding her phone shakily. No response.

"Hello?!" She tried to breath, but found herself uneven and confused. "What the- What the fuck?! Holy shit, what the FUCK?!" She flopped on top of her bed, trying to make sense of what had just happened on the other end of that conversation. Nothing seemed to fit. Then, footsteps.

"Pacifica!" Gideon burst through the doors. Pacifica screamed, julting from her bed, phone still clutched to her chest.

"Jesus! You scared me-"

"I need your help!" He began to sweat, his chest heaving after his marathon up the steps.

"I'm kinda busy at the moment!" She turned away from him, fiddling with her phone.

"There's gotta be a redial option somewhere..." She pressed mindlessly at each button, the jumbled beeps nameless and confusing.

"Pacifica, I'm serious! This is a big deal!" She dropped her phone to her side, turning around sharply with a sneer.

"Gideon! What could possibly have-" She stopped, being met face-to-face with a glistening "three" as Gideon held up the journal to her. She stared at it, and then peeked over to look at Gideon, sprouting a guilt-ridden expression. He avoided her gaze, instead looking at the floor.

"Gideon..." She began. "What did you do?"

He paused, clearing his throat, letting the journal fall to his side.

"Follow me." He beckoned, walking out of the room. Pacifica lived in the attic. Second floor, first bedroom. Gideon, however, slept on the first floor, down the hall. A small room. The region was dark, stale air polluting the space. Pacifica turned to flick for a light switch, and when none was found, instead adjusted her eyes. There was a small bed in the corner, resting just below a stained glass window. Shadowed test tubes, glistening from the hallway light, shined with foreign objects injected in each. Dark posters of monsters and mysteries hugged each wall, grotesque and obtuse. The room seemed characteristically geeky, even housing a dungeons, dungeons, and more dungeons under mounds of dirty clothes. However, something ominous lurked within. Pacifica looked to the floor, the corners swallowed whole by darkness. Nonetheless, she could make out large etchings, both black and red. She squinted her eyes for a moment, only for Gideon to tug on a small string, illuminating the space.

"Ah." She hissed, rubbing at her eyes. When she opened them, pure shock ran through her veins. She stood in the center of what looked like the lining of a large bird, outstretched wings caged within a giant chalk-circle. There were four candles, unlit, encircling the bird at it's temple, either wing, and its talons. One candle in particular had been tipped over, now lying aimlessly at its side.

"Gideon." She turned to him slowly. "What the fuck?"

"I know. I know." He began to regain himself, bending over to reposition the tipped over candle. "Honestly, I didn't even think it would work. But-... But, it did." He sighed, a crumpled look on his face. He cracked open his journal for a moment, only to snap it shut with a groan.

"Work? I'm sorry, what? What is this? A seance?" She bent down, rolling her fingers over the black bird etching, streamed thinly by a red line. "This looks like a seance."

Gideon gulped, once again avoiding her gaze.

"Nooooo. Not- It's not a seance. It's, uh- Well-" He began, pulling at his collar. Pacifica stood, closing the gap between them.

"It's what?" Her eyes narrowed, burning into his skin. She placed her hands on her hips, tapping her foot as she watched him fidget. His face grew red, trying to find the words to explain himself.

"Well-... It really isn't a seance. It's a... well, it's a magic circle." He finished.

"I beg your pardon?" She cocked her eyebrow up in confusion, maintaining her stern demeanor. She continued to advance on him until his back was against the wall. She towered over him, having at least six inches on him. "Let me restate my earlier question: What. Did you. DO?"

Gideon froze for a moment, taking a deep breath. He shifted his eyes, focusing on a large binder on his bed. He slipped out from in front of her, bringing the binder to his lap.

"I've never been one for sticking my neck out too far. I could never confront them. Never." He flipped it open, landing on a random page. The single snapshot of a bloody glove. A trash can with a tongue sticking out. The black silhouette of a slender man's figure. A muddied pair of shoes. Crimson scissors. A broken branch. He pointed to that one.

"You see, the branch means there was probably a struggle. They found some footprints, but never found the body." He began. "And there." He pointed to the trash can photo. "It's a lamb's tongue. Maybe some kind of evil ritual? Some kind of sacrifice. I'm not sure-" Pacifica stopped him.

"Gideon, what does this have to do with anything?" She asked impatiently, tapping her cheek with her index finger. He continued, pointing to the silhouette picture.

"I took this snap shot a few years back. It's one of my earliest pieces of evidence. No one believed me, though. No one." He sighed, rubbing its slick surface.

"Believed what?" She asked.

"Do you know who this is?" He shifted the binder into her lap. Pacifica didn't spend much time examining it. The shot was so vague. A shaded back. Tall. Thin. Broad shoulders. A tint of blue. Just a little. Brown hair. Maybe black?

"It's Dipper." He confirmed. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out the features more exactly. He was a bit shorter, and you couldn't make out his articles of clothing. From the slenderness of his waist, it could have just as easily been a woman, if not for his finely structured back. She considered it, though remained doubtful.

"I caught him at the scene of the crime, Paz. Back when I was ten. I caught him doing it. You've gotta believe me, I did." He let out with a faraway tone, as if to recall the memory.

"Doing... What?" She shuffled away from him a bit, getting a good view of his face. He seemed exceedingly distraught.

"I just needed some proof. Real proof. I needed picture-perfect evidence that they weren't who they said they were." He droned on, unable to register her question. "But how? I'm a coward. I could never confront such evil. They'd kill me, I was sure."

"Kill? Gideon, what are you talking about? What do any of these pictures have to do with Dipper?"

Once again, he ignored her question. "Then it hit me. I didn't have to confront them. Not directly." He slid his hand on the cover of his journal, flipping to a saved page. A bird, identical to the one traced on the floor, was printed crassly. Splats of blood and ink congregated on its page corners. Pacifica began to sweat.

"I-" He stopped himself, considering the repercussion of his words. "I made a deal." He moved to the center of the circle, engulfed by paranoia and shame. Things were beginning to click.

"Were you spying on Dipper?" She began. "For some wack job conspiracy? Oh, Gideon!" She rubbed her temple, sliding off the bed. "Why are you so obsessed with that guy? What do you think he did? You think he killed somebody? For real, Gideon? You think he's going out killing people?"

"Yes." The sureness of Gideon's cold response chilled Pacifica. "And I was going to prove it, too. With this." He stretched out his arms, directing her attention to the bird. "It's a bird's eye view. Get it?"

"Nope. Not one bit." She shook her head.

"It was meant for spying only. I could take my pictures through the bird's eye and have all the proof I needed." He bent down under his bed, sliding out a disposable camera. "I got a couple of pieces, but nothing incriminating." He sighed.

"Woah, Gideon! How long have you been spying on him?" She cocked her eyebrow with a scowl, although envying him somewhere deep in her mind.

"Less than a week. Nothing scandalous. The bird's eye only provides a view from the perspective of a bird. If Dipper's within view, that's what I catch a glimpse of. I can't go into his house, sadly." He explained.

"And... What've you found?" She asked awkwardly. There was no way he had anything seriously... interesting about Dipper to share. Not unlike if one of her female friends had been spying. But, she still felt an odd twinge of curiosity, and hoped for some kind of payoff. She reached for the camera, shuffling through the pictures.

"Hardly anything! He spends his time either crying, sleeping, or reading. And, most of the time, it isn't even anything good! It's stuff like "Catcher in the Rye" and "Suicide notes". I spent maybe five days spying on him, and nothing! And then-..." Pacifica looked up from the camera to stare at him.

"Then... What?" She sat back down on the bed, crossing her legs. She placed her head in her hands, waiting for his explanation. His eyes shifted to hers, then to the floor, then to the candles. He sauntered over to the one placed at the bird's head.

"I was angry." He picked up the candle. "I must have knocked it over last night. That's when I gave up on the whole thing. Really. I did. But-... I made a mistake." He said. "The candles are what keep the birds in check. As long as they stand tall and continued to burn, control of the birds is maintained."

"But you threw a tantrum?" She commented.

"I got upset. It was like watching paint dry. I don't know. I had assumed his life would be nonstop criminal activity. But, then you came over to his place and started talking, and I realized just how hopeless it was."

"You were spying on us?!" She gasped.

"We've established that already. Let go of the past. Anyways, that's where the problem lies." He elaborated, handing her the journal. "My side of the bargain became null and void once I knocked over one of the candles. But, the birds' end is still being upheld. As long as they continue to keep their end of the deal, they'll be uncontrollable." Pacifica's face grew pale, reading out loud the panicked warning scribbled on the next page.

"Warning: Do not summon birds. Do not make contact. Do not communicate with birds. Do not bird, I beg of you. Fucking really, Gideon?!" She exclaimed. She clutched the journal between her sweating palms, bringing it towards her chest. "Gideon, this shit is evil! Not just spying, but you made some weird magic demon circle-thingy that controls animals and peeps on teen boys! What the heck?!"

Gideon looked to the ground in shame, shuffling his shoes across the floor. "I know..." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking to the bird's talons. "That's why I need your help."

"You messed up so badly you actually need to come to me for help?" She smirked, though still expressing obvious annoyance. He nodded awkwardly.

"How?" Pacifica asked. "How are we gonna fix this?"

"If we can get the birds to fulfill their side of the bargain, they'll go back to normal. At least, I think so."

"Which is....?" She asked.

"Expose his secret." He responded. This struck a chord with Pacifica. Something that seemed to remind her of just a few minutes ago on the phone. She had remembered the screaming on the other end. The shattering glass. The car engine. The crash. The cawing.

"If the birds were to... I don't know... kill Dipper before exposing any of his secrets to us, what would happen?"

"Absolute chaos. Birdemic style. If they have no way of completely the deal, there's no way of returning them to normal... Oh no."

"Oh yeah. Jesus, Gideon!" She smashed her hands into her face, flopping back on his bed, before julting back up once more towards the door.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"Haven't you ever seen Birdemic? I'm getting clothes hangers. And a flame thrower. And a leaf blower. And some bread. And maybe some kind of spell...? Fuck it. Where are the keys to the golf cart?" Gideon pointed to the key holder just by his window. Pacifica snatched them without a second thought. "Get your vest on. I'm not cleaning your mess up alone." She snapped.

"Okay!" He complied. "Hey! Don't hold it like that! You'll cringle the pages!" He pointed to the journal, making small grabs at it. She pulled it above her head.

"You've lost your journal privileges, boy-o."