My first GF fic...my Soul Eater and Zelda ones have NOT been frequented so...maybe this will be? IDK. We shall find out, shan't we? I tried to make this more to the point because I've been told that I really write too much (especially with my SE stuff XD).

There were three things that Dipper hated in the world. These things were: When Mabel dipped both of their toothbrushes in maple syrup and then just left them out so that the sugar crystallized and the bristles got all stiff and sickeningly sweet (Dipper had never understood, nor had he been interested, in why she did this), not knowing something that he should or could, and betrayal.

The toothbrush thing was actually more of a pet peeve of his; he found the other two things far more irksome and, to put it plainly, maddening. Enraging. And, at times, heartbreaking.

Betrayal.

He should have heeded the book's instructions. He shouldn't have trusted anyone – but he hadn't thought that this included his immediate (or, perhaps, not so immediate, he thought grimly) family.

Dipper growled again in frustration, kicking a fallen tree that he came across in his blind trek through the woods, and subsequently grimacing, leaning over, and massaging his sore foot. Why was he so stupid? He sat down with a huff on the very log that had injured him, setting Journal No. 3 next to him. TRUST NO ONE. The book had told him, for crying out loud, and here he was, an idiot who had ignored the instructions. Of course Stan hadn't been what he seemed, but what was he? Were they even related? Was the author really Stan's brother? Was the author of the books related to the twins?

The twins. No. No. There weren't any twins. And Dipper didn't care. He didn't give a damn anymore. The mystery twins. Augh! Why was he so stupid? The mystery twins had never existed – Mabel had never cared about him, had she? She had never done anything for him, had she? It was always Dipper, it was he who would always come to her rescue. Not once that summer had she done anything for him. When she had fallen in love with Mermando, it was Dipper who had helped her let him go. He'd frikin' kissed the guy for her! When Mabel lost Waddles to Pacifica, Dipper had given up on his quest to save Wendy from Robby to help her. When the crazy puppet kid came to town? Mabel hadn't even noticed Dipper's lack of sleep, hadn't even noticed that he was possessed, and yet he postponed working on the laptop to put up with another of his sister's crazy whims.

And then there was that moment, that heartbreaking, bewildering moment:

"Mabel, do I look like a bad guy to you? Please, I swear, everything I have done up until this moment has been for the good of this family."

"Mabel, don't! He could by lying!"

She had looked back and forth frantically as both parties, both people she loved, had pleaded for her to listen, to do the right thing. Clearly, she had had her priorities all figured.

"Grunkle Stan, I trust you."

Maybe she didn't even care about him. After all, she had chosen to trust the word of a man they knew practically nothing about over that of her own twin. And Dipper had thought that she cared. He had though that they were the mystery twins. More than that. He had thought them inseparable, best friends. He trusted her and she trusted him. Hah. What a joke.

"I swear, it's unnatural for siblings to get along as well as you two do."

Well, Dipper thought. If she didn't care about him, he didn't care about her. He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone. He could do this by himself. He didn't even need the author – he would just keep looking for secrets, secrets that no one, never, had ever learned about Gravity Falls. And he would do it by himself. He would write three more journals, new journals – hell, ten more! He would become great. He would know everything that there was to know, and he would never, never, be stupid enough to let anyone take advantage of him ever again.

"Yes," he said with resolution. "Yes. I'll become greater than he ever was. The author. Stan. Anyone." He stood up, but was suddenly knocked back to his feet, blinded.

He screamed.

"Yeesh kid, yeesh. Calm down, kid," a voice resonated through the air. Dipper, although still blinded, recognized the voice and scrambled backward until the rough bark of the tree scraped his back. Shielding his eyes with one hand, the squinting boy looked into the light.

"What do you want?" he spat. "Here to make fun of me, right? Laugh in the face of that idiot kid who was so blinded by his childish determination that he was taken advantage of? Or are you here to take advantage of me yourself?"

"Whoah there, Pine Tree, chillax," the demon chuckled, dimming the halo of light that surrounded him and tipping his hat so that Dipper's back was dragged along the tree, then replacing it so that he was dragged in the opposite direction before coming to a halt. "No hard feelings. I just did the job that the little pig-man gave me."

Dipper stood up and rubbed his sore back, grimacing. "Yeah, and then you possessed me and tried to take over my sister's puppet show."

"No hard feelings, I just wanted a vessel – just for a bit," Bill Cipher repeated. "And now, I can't help but notice that you're in a bit of a...shall we say..." the demon disappeared, and Dipper was startled when he reappeared behind his back, Book No. 3 in hand. "...predicament?" To emphasize his point, the triangle flipped to the page that made up a third of the blueprint for the portal.

"What do you care?" Dipper growled.

"I'm all for helping people, kid. When you're a demonic manifestation of pure energy, life can get a little dull. I'm in for the ride, and your life, well, it's one hell of a ride." Bill's eye seemed to smile as a grin crept into his voice. "Did you know," he asked, handing the book to Dipper, who hugged it to his chest in discomfort, "that I know all of the mistakes in that book?"

"Mistakes?"

"Yes, mistakes. Remember when you were at that party with your little girlfriend, that angel...Pacific Northwest, was it?"

"Pacifica. And she's not my girlfriend," Dipper cried indignantly. "What does that matter?"

"Well, your precious little book wasn't of much use to you then, was it? But you were smart enough to figure out what this little thing," Bill tapped the journal, "couldn't tell you."

A bit of Dipper's broken pride was restored. "Hey, yeah. I did. But how did you know that?"

"Oh, I know lots of things, kid," Bill grabbed the edge of the journal, but Dipper refused to hand it over to him. "What are you doing? That's not yours!" The boy yelled.

"It's not yours, either, is it, Pine Tree?" the demon pointed out, relinquishing his grasp on the tattered book. "Why are you so attached to it in the first place? I told you, kid, I know lots of things – and with my knowledge and your smarts, we could write ten journals, easy."

"How did you..."

"And," Bill broke in, "I haven't told you the best part. It comes with revenge. On your uncle, on your sister..."

"What do you mean?" Dipper asked.

"I know a place with enough secrets to fill up one book by itself. And all you need to do to get there, kid..." Bill extended a hand as it spontaneously combusted into vibrant blue flames, "Is shake my hand."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch, kid. I told ya. I'm in this for the fun, you're in it for the knowledge, we both want...revenge...so, it works out for everyone!" Bill said cheerfully.

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck, considering. This was a golden opportunity to learn everything he had ever wanted to, as well as get back at Stan and Mabel. It was like killing two birds with one stone, and all he had to do was shake Bill's hand...

"I'm in," he decided, watching blue flames travel up his arm. "Now show me that place you were talking about."

"Gladly," Bill agreed. "But first, we need to make a little stop somewhere."

Dipper smirked and followed the floating triangle through the dark woods. At last, he was on his way to knowledge. He didn't even notice when he dropped the journal that he had clung to so desperately all summer. Didn't notice that the book that he had carried everywhere, relied on, was now lying in the leaf mold, dappled with the shadows of leaves. He didn't notice that, upon impact, it had flipped open.

And that a single page lay exposed to the moonlight, the pleading words of another owner before Dipper shaded by the gnarled branches of the trees.

TRUST NO ONE.

OH GOD THE IRONY OF IT ALL

If you liked it, please review, if you review, it will continue! Haha! Poetry. *sighs*

Well anyway, just...concrit, opinions, IDEAS (OMG guys I need some ideas here!), etc, just comment away or PM!

Thanks for reading,

-Squeeb100