"So... what are we gonna do about Bill?" you asked, turning to Alex.

Alex swallowed his mouthful of pancakes. "Um... mm... I dunno. You can't really send him to jail... We'd both be sent to the loony bin if we tried to say a triangular, one-eyed dream demon from a kid's TV show was out to kill us or something."

"Yeah... Maybe we could just ignore him?" you questioned.

"No. Bill doesn't like to be ignored. Then he's ten times more likely to try and drive us nuts."

"What's the deal you made with him, anyway? What would be the point of him stalking you?" you continued.

"I-I don't know if I should tell you..." Alex looked down.

"Dude. You dragged me into this crazy world of yours already. At this point I wouldn't be surprised if you sold your soul to get a grilled cheese sandwich."

"I-I wasn't that stupid!"

"Mhm. Now tell me, what's your deal?" you asked, a small smirk spreading across your face. You grabbed a nearby notebook and pen. "How does that make you feel?"

"I don't need a psychologist, (Y/N)," Alex answered, stifling a laugh.

"Well then what is it, damn it? You and I both have a demon haunting our dreams! Do you really think I'd be asking about the deal if I was possessed? Because I wouldn't! I'd already know about it!"

"Alright, alright. Fine," Alex said with a sigh. "I... He gave me my 'art skills' in return that I end the series after two seasons. And... now I just... I can't just hand them over! It's my life now!"

You didn't know how to respond. That whole show? Everything, all because of a deal? When Alex had said that season two was driving him crazy, he wasn't kidding. "I-..." you began.

"Shocker, isn't it? I was one of those big dreamers that would do anything to achieve my dreams. And now look at where I am. A fucking mess that made a deal with a demon. And I'm trying to hide because I didn't see the fucking consequences..." Alex pushed his empty plate away and placed his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands. "I'm an idiot. An idiot who couldn't figure out that life sucks. And you can't get anything you want. There is no being happy. It's a lie and cheat world out there... and I was lied to."

"... Alex..." you said, walking over to him. You placed a hand on his shoulders. "Everyone makes mistakes... You don't need to worry, okay? We'll fix this."

Alex let out a sigh. "Okay... we'll fix this..." he muttered, sitting back up.

You kissed him on the cheek. "There we go. Everything will be fine. How about we watch some more Doctor Who, eh? I heard there's a new episode."

"Yeah, sounds fine." Alex replied, standing up.

You smiled and walked to the couch, turning on the TV.

***

You sent Alex home this night, despite his pleas.

"No," you told him. "You need to unpack and who knows what horrors will be lurking in your home if you just let it sit there!"

After some arguing, Alex finally gave up and walked next door to his house, fumbling for his keys and walking inside with one last pleading look toward you. You uncrossed your arms and shooed him inside, heading back inside yourself.

You went upstairs and lay down on the bed, pulling the covers up. It was going to be a long night, you could tell.

***

You woke up instantly, pulling the covers off of yourself and stepping onto the.... nothing. There was no floor. Only a purplish landscape. With a familiar triangle hovering a small distance away.

You looked down to find some tiles lining a path toward Bill, so you stepped on those, propelling yourself forward. You skidded to a stop at the last tile, looking up at the demon that had made both yours and Alex's life a living hell. (BTW Alex's name was the 666th word just to let you know XD)

Bill looked down at you with that monstrously large eye of his. You knew if he could, he'd be smiling. "I anticipated you'd pull something like this, sweetheart," Bill chuckled, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Yeah, yeah..." you responded, looking around just to avoid looking into Bill's eye. "I just need you to do something for me."

"Oh really? And what's that, hm?" Bill had an air of pride to his voice, knowing he'd won this little game of his.

You hesitated, but finally answered him. "What can I do for you to let you leave Alex alone?"

"Hm... that's tough, I really was enjoying making him lose his mind. Maybe... I can take your art skills instead?"

You tried to hide your shock, but to no avail. Bill laughed. "I-I..." you stammered.

"You do love him, don't you?" Bill questioned. "What's a few drawings to making him happy?"

"I-I dunno... I-it's my only way of p-pay...." you trailed off.

Bill floated over and put an arm on your shoulder. "Listen, sweetheart, Hirsch has an extremely successful cartoon and he gets paid just from merchandise purchases. And you'll still get paid from ad revenue," Bill told you. He snapped, a pile of cash appearing. "Now I don't know anything about human 'love' but I do know you want him to be happy, don't you?"

You nodded slowly.

"Then it's simple. Your art skills for his. You won't even miss 'em!"

You thought for an exceedingly long time. Bill was becoming impatient. He had adjusted his bow tie at least fifty times before you finally answered.

"... Fine... I-it's a deal..."

Bill chuckled darkly and fluffed your hair. "Atta girl! You know how to take a deal when you see one!"

You tried to smooth your hair back down, looking to the non-existent floor. Bill held out his hand. You exhaled, and grabbed his hand, shaking it as a fury of blue flames erupted from his hand.

"Great! Oh, and expect to fall on the floor when you wake up!" Bill exclaimed.

***

You awoke with a jolt, slipping off of the small corner you were laying on and fell to the floor, landing with a thud on your back. You sat up, groaning in pain.

"Maybe... maybe it was just a trick..." you told yourself. "Just a stupid prank to try and break me... see how far I would go..."

You got up and headed to your drawing room, determined to draw something- anything.

You sat down in your swivel chair and picked up a piece of paper and a pencil. You scooted to your desk and placed the paper down, setting the pencil tip on the paper. You began to draw a basic character in your art style. Or... rather, you tried.

You looked at the horrific stick figure-like pencil barf. You didn't understand. You tried to search your memories for what you had been taught and what you had learned about art throughout your life.

Nothing.

You gasped, finally realizing what Bill had meant by "taking your art skills." He erased every memory of art you had ever gained. Nothing was left. Just crappy kindergarten drawings.

You ran your hand through your hair and gripped the back of your head. Everything you had worked for... every stressful second... gone.