2 2: Pancakes

Warnings: –

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We'll meet again. . . Don't know where. . . Don't know when. . . Oh, I know we'll meet again some sunny day!

-Bill Cipher

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After the 'meeting' and their conversation on Bill Cipher, everyone headed home, or to bed. They had agreed to meet up once again.

The twins were allowed to stay in their old room, with the stained glass window, that had a striking resemblance to the said demon.

As expected, neither of them could fall asleep. Not just in fear of being visited, but the feeling of being back after 5 years. It was. . . odd.

They both knew they weren't getting any sleep anytime soon, but they kept silent. Both for different reasons. Of course, they knew that Bill was dead. He was erased from existence!

. . . But naturally, he was their main suspect. Mabel feared for her Great Uncles, Grunkles. Heh, the word gave her nostalgia. Why didn't they come back, you ask?

Well, the whole experience scarred both Dipper and Mabel. Although they didn't show it, it was quite obvious.

Dipper had to be pulled out from his Trigonometry class, because he kept drawing the demon everywhere, on everything.

Mabel suffered from Insomnia, fearing that she would be visited and tormented in her sleep. They had gotten better, over the years,

But soon, Gravity Falls seemed like a memory to the twins, one they wanted to forget. But they should've known. They can never forget Gravity Falls.

"Dipper? You awake?" Mabel asked, knowing the answer. Dipper gave a small grunt in response, and rolled over to face Mabel's bed.

"I couldn't sleep," He mumbled tiredly, rubbing his eyes. "I know, Dipper. I know." Mabel answered quietly, in a daze. "It feels good to be back. . ." Dipper mumbled.

Being back on that old bed gave them a warm, homey feeling inside, but it didn't help their current situation. The first few hours of dawn peeked through the window.

"Do you think it's him? Do you really think it's Bill?" She asked, shuddering at the name. "Yes, I'm positive--" He stopped.

As much as he wanted to put the blame on him, they had to be logical. Everyone in town knew not to touch the statue. . . Even newcomers. . .

Making it impossible for him to have gotten out. Unless, of course, someone did it on purpose.

But who's to say that the statue contains him? What if he was really, truly. . . dead? Then it must've been another demon. Or just some sick prank.

Dipper sighed. "No, it's impossible. It could've been someone else, or something else. . ." He muttered, loud enough for Mabel to hear.

She nodded, even though Dipper probably didn't see it. "That makes sense," After a couple of hours,

She sat up in her bed. "Let's get ready and make breakfast, the others are coming soon."

"I call dibs on the shower!" She yelled, doing a war cry and running into the bathroom with a towel and clothes. Yes, she had matured, but she needed to lighten up, especially now.

Dipper ran his fingers along the leather spine of the Journal. He picked it up and flipped the pages until it stopped on Bill's page. He sighed.

"If it isn't you, then who?" He mumbled, skimming through the pages. Perhaps it was one of the henchmaniacs from Weirdmageddon?

"Or maybe all of them. . ." He grumbled sarcastically. He reread the whole journal in a matter of minutes. He remembered it by heart, but he needed to make sure.

Mabel walked out wearing light blue ripped jeans and a white shirt. Her hair was tied into a ponytail.

"Well, guess it's my turn." Dipper said, grabbing a towel and clothes of his own. "What? You? Shower? Don't make me laugh," Mabel joked.

Dipper playfully glared at her and headed to the bathroom. "I'll help you with breakfast when I'm done."

Mabel walked carefully down the old staircase and walked to the kitchen. Nobody seemed to be awake, so Mabel set about, grabbing ingredients and preparing a meal.

She had gotten better at cooking. No more glitter or plastic dinosaurs, though she would occasionally sneak some into her Mabel juice. Classic Mabel.

She let the eggs cook on a small pan, and she was flipping pancakes on the other. He had a gut-wrenching feeling whenever she flipped them; She missed Stancakes.

"Hey Mabes, what's on the menu?" Dipper said, stretching. His hair was wet and messy, but Mabel did mind. "Bacon, eggs, and--"

She blinked. "Pancakes," Dipper noticed her visible sadness and decided to take over. "Start cooking the bacon then, I'll do the pancakes." He said with a smile.

Mabel did as he said and Dipper was flipping pancakes now. It was quiet, apart from the sizzling noises and the occasional flip.

The kitchen smelled amazing, and Dipper began to set the table. "Remember the vending machine?" He asked. "Yeah, do you think we should check?"

Dipper bit his lip and nodded. "After Breakfast, of course." The others started waking up. Some of them from the night before stayed the night at the shack.

Fiddleford, Wendy, Soos, even Pacifica. They slept at the couch or in the spare rooms. None of them touched Stanley and Stanford's room out of respect.

"Morning," Dipper said, still setting the table. Pacifica sat in one of the chairs. "Morning." She said with a small yawn. The others started coming into the kitchen, drawn to the delectable smell.

Dipper and Mabel didn't eat much, and neither did the others. After a few bites Dipper excused himself from the table, insisting that he was full. The others didn't argue.

Typing in the code to the basement, he descended down the stairwell and felt the wall until he found the light switch. He looked around, almost not recognising the place.

A mess. The whole place was a mess. His mouth gaped open. Ford didn't like messes. He liked to keep things neat and tidy. Something must have happened. . .

Dipper rushed to the shelves, looking for the Journals. He knew for a fact that Ford wouldn't throw the Journals in the bottomless pit without any copies.

When he found the Journals, he quickly flipped through the pages, until he stopped. The basement was a mess, it looked like someone was looking for something.

"What are you up to, Bill. . ." He heard a dark chuckle from behind him. It didn't sound human. It sounded demonic.

"Not Bill, but guess again, sweetie."

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Word Count: 1073