She'd done the research, on the internet and in the school library's tiny section on the supernatural. All that she'd seen agreed with her initial suspicions. The straightened room, her hair moving even when there was no breeze, the faint scent of pine in her room—it all pointed towards a haunting.

And there was only one person she could think of that would be haunting her.

She gathered the candles and incense like the website had said and lit them, keeping the sage close at hand. The cluster of colorful candles on her desk gave off a cozy glow, and she could smell the cinnamon and vanilla incense working. She shut the lights in the room off and focused on the flickering glow of the candles.

"Bro-bro, I know you're here," she said. It was the first time she'd said it out loud, and the first time she really knew it was true. As much as she hadn't wanted to admit it, Dipper's idiosyncrasies had followed him into the afterlife, and she knew somewhere deep inside her that the ghost haunting her was that of her brother.

That just meant that he deserved to move on, to find peace, even more. Her brother had died years ago, when they were twelve. The thought of the restlessness that he must have felt as a ghost, strong enough to drive him to be able to affect the physical plane, strong enough that it had kept him around even six years after his death, was painful. Mabel couldn't stand to imagine him continuing that way for any longer.

"It's okay, Dipper. Everything is okay. I'm okay. I don't-" her voice broke as she choked back a sob as she thought once more of her brother, alive, and how excited he had been the last time she saw him, right before he died.

"I don't need you to watch out for me. I'm doing fine. You can move on now, okay?"

That was what the website had advised her to say: something to smooth things over, to allow the ghost of her brother to find peace, and to offer him an opportunity to move on.

Just in case, Mabel took the bundle of sage leaves and lit it on the flame of one of the candles. The flame caught, and the sage started to burn, letting off the smoke that Mabel had been assured would help guide ghosts to the afterlife, to peace.

Without warning, a gust of what could almost be wind if there had been a window open in the room pressed against Mabel's face, and every candle, stick of incense, and burning sage leaf was snuffed out at once.

There had been nothing about that on the website, but it had said to expect a sign that the ghost had departed. The wind must have been the sign.

Mabel smiled a bit, sadly. Her brother was really, truly gone now, and she had been the one to make sure of it. Tears leaked down her cheeks as she reached that thought. But now at least his soul was at rest, at peace.

Mabel fumbled for the nearest lamp in the total darkness left without the candles, until her hand felt the pull cord for her desk lamp. She pulled it.

There, on her desk, a tube of cadmium red paint had been opened rather roughly, and paint was spread across her paper desk blotter.

Did the wind knock that over? she wondered for a moment. She had left it barely closed and precariously balanced on her desk before starting the ritual.

She decided it didn't really matter and ripped off the top sheet of paper, which seemed to be the only one with paint on it. She checked to see if the paint was dripping—it wasn't—and that was when she saw the letters.

An A first, then an I, and then the rest of the letters seemed to become visible as she started looking for them.

I CAN'T, the paper read.

I CAN'T.

When the haunting had started, Mabel had barely even noticed. It had been maybe a few months into her junior year of high school—emphasis on the maybe, because who knows how many misplaced items had actually been part of the haunting before then?

But she'd settled on December junior year as the time when it started, because that was when she started finding her things straightened, not just missing. The paints on her desk in a row, the watercolor pencils in rainbow order in their box, the crafty knick-knacks on her shelf rearranged into a straight row instead of piles.

It felt oddly familiar, and it took her a few days to realize why. It was the sort of thing Dipper had done, when he was still around. He'd straighten her things while they were talking, or while he was thinking. Mabel had always thought it was oddly funny in an ironic sort of way, since he collected things in odd piles and stacks and his room certainly looked messier than hers, especially when he was working on a project. She'd asked him about it, once, and he'd brushed it off with something about items as similar as different colors of paint being easier to organize.

Of course, Dipper had been dead for years. Her paints had been collecting in piles if they weren't randomly tossed into cute buckets for so long that she couldn't even entirely remember the system Dipper had used until she'd come home after a science test, eager to do a quick vent painting, and found her paints in a neat row in the small top drawer of her desk, in rainbow order no less. She'd thought at first that it must have been her mom tidying up, but neither of her parents mentioned it, or seemed to know what she was talking about when she brought it up. Then she'd overheard them whispering about it one night, worried about her because of it.

That was when she knew something was weird.

It continued in fits and spurts, and she'd come home some days to find her room unchanged, and other days to find her books arranged by topic and not the color of the cover like she'd left them.

That was reasonable enough, she'd thought. Maybe some brownies or something had moved in and started cleaning her things for her.

She left out a dish of milk and a couple Oreos for any possible brownies that night, just in case.

In the morning, they were untouched.

Still, Mabel would find her things straightened for her. And that turned out to just be the beginning.

The ghost started to do other little things Dipper had done that Mabel had almost forgotten about. Setting out two bottles of syrup before anyone else woke up, the way he'd done when they had syrup races. Flipping her hair over her face while she was talking, even when there was no wind. All things that Dipper had done, back when he was still alive.

Still, Mabel didn't want to acknowledge that, barely wanted to acknowledge the ghost at all. Dipper was gone, had been gone for years. Mabel had been able to get through a day without crying for months now, as long as she wasn't directly reminded of him, and the ghost haunting her was providing these reminders everywhere. She couldn't tell, anymore, when she might break down into tears because the ghost had moved Dipper's old hat out of the closet and onto her bedpost, or spread books out on the floor of the guest room that had once been Dipper's.

The day that the ghost had spread the old copies of Dipper's magazines across her floor and connected pages with her knitting yarn, the way Dipper had done when trying to unravel the mysteries of Gravity Falls, she'd started doing the research. This was no way for Dipper to spend his afterlife.

I CAN'T.

Of course, the summer they'd spent in Gravity Falls had been what had started it all. While the first half of the summer was more of less a blur of fun and magic, with a few distinct memories like meeting Candy and Grenda and getting Waddles, the second half had been seeped in mysteries and conspiracy, with the ever-present threat of the demon Bill Cipher looming, for a good reason.

The twins had been just a week or two from going home when Dipper had finally uncovered Bill Cipher's plans for the town, the base of the enormous and super-powerful spell he'd been building there, and how he was hours away from fusing the earth with the Mindscape, dissolving society into hopeless chaos and ending life as they'd known it.

And, damn him, Dipper had taken responsibility for stopping Bill.

They'd all helped, of course, with the urgency the situation required, but Dipper had been the most invested. Dipper had been the one to find the counter-spell, to break the ties to the real world that Bill was drawing power from. Dipper had been the one that had approached Bill with the final nullifying spell, the one that would make him powerless forever.

And Mabel had been the one to watch as Dipper's body fell, lifeless, to the ground.

I CAN'T.

"Can't or won't?" Mabel spit out from sheer habit. Dipper had to be telling the truth, though. The ritual should have guided any ghost possible of moving on into the afterlife. If Dipper was still here, he had to be prevented from moving on somehow . . .

Unless it wasn't Dipper after all.

Supernatural being move item touch organize write invisible

Not the most eloquent Google search, to be sure, but after dozens of failed attempts, Mabel had given up on coherence in hopes of having enough buzzwords to get a somewhat useful answer.

Pages of results popped up. Poltergeists, brownies, on and on with creatures Mabel had ruled out ages ago.

One result with a page on demons.

She clicked on it, mostly because the school library had almost nothing about demons and so she hadn't done much research on them when she'd been looking into what supernatural phenomenon was happening to her.

It was a simple SuperWiki page on demons that listed the few characteristics that all demons shared, with links to more specific pages.

Demons are some of the most powerful and dangerous supernatural creatures in existence. Their volatile and unreliable nature coupled with their power has led to the summoning of demons being banned in several places around the world (see List of Places Where Summoning is Banned for a full list) and shunned almost everywhere else.

All demons can be summoned, with specific patterns in a summoning circle and incantations determining which demon answers the summons. Demons can also make deals with people who summon them: promising to do a certain deed with their power in exchange for payment from their summoner, most commonly in the form of live sacrifice, blood, or souls, though some demons associated with the mind or memories place great value in memories or sentimental items(1).

Mabel swallowed hard. It was about the same as what she'd heard in school, but with even more nasty details thrown in, and so casually. She had to be able to rule out demons as a possibility for the supernatural stuff happening to her, though.

Most demons can speak many languages in order to communicate with their summoners, and are superhumanly clever and intelligent if not all-knowing(1). Demons are experienced at twisting the wording of deals to their favor, allowing them to sow misery and chaos on others, which seems to be one of their main goals (citation needed) by warping their delivery of what their summoner asked for while still technically holding up their end of the bargain(1).

Few demons seem to be able to affect the world in large ways without being summoned, suggesting that summoning lends power to a demon(2). However, some of the few demons used in organized science so far have reported that they are indeed able to touch and move objects without being summoned, and almost all have been proven to be able to see events happening even when not summoned to them, suggesting they might become invisible and wreak havoc more quietly when not being actively summoned(2).

Research into the limits of demons is inconclusive at best, and may be impossible for some demons, who continually overstep theorized boundaries. At the current point in time, limits must be presumed to vary from demon to demon, and it should never be assumed that a demon cannot exceed their theorized boundaries, especially when summoning or dealing with them.

For a full list of demons, with links to pages containing more information, go to List of Known Demons.

She clicked on the link without really thinking about it. The main page had provided so little information that she hadn't been able to rule out demons but couldn't make them a definite possibility either.

Up sprung the list, a couple dozen demons in alphabetical order, with a note that other demons likely existed but hadn't yet been catalogued or recorded well enough to justify their placement in the list.

The page for the first demon on the list, Aeothnar, made Mabel wonder why they had bothered screening demons by the amount of info available. The page was maybe two paragraphs long, with one paragraph being an account of the only recorded summoning of Aeothnar and the other being a summary of information from it. There were two alternate titles for the demon, Tree Watcher and Sky Lord. Not much that could help, though it did seem that Aeothnar's power was less precise than what would be needed to write on a sheet of paper.

She clicked back to the list page and selected the next demon.

Alcor

Alternate titles: the Dreambender, Devourer of Souls, the Forgotten One, Lord of the Mindscape

Recorded Summonings: Full list can be found at Known Summonings of Alcor.

Known Cults: Full list can be found at Known Cults of Alcor (Current). Cults that have been disbanded or destroyed can be found at Former Cults of Alcor.

Associated Imagery: Blue fire, yellow triangles or stars, black and gold color scheme

Summary: Alcor, commonly addressed with his title of 'the Dreambender' affixed, is a demon that seems to be primarily tied with dreams and the mind, at least in theme. Reports of his powers vary wildly from mild healing or curing chronic nightmares to turning summoners into inanimate objects and controlling fire(1).

Alcor is one of the most powerful and unpredictable demons currently known. His power has attracted the attention of a number of cults, but he has no more than a few dozen dedicated to him at any one time. Most cults who summon him, including his own cults, die or go missing as a result of the summoning(1). As such, summoning him is strongly advised against.

There are few historical records of Alcor originating from the time before the Transcendence, though some vague legends have been tied to him.

Powers: Alcor's powers seem to have no or few set restrictions. He is known to commonly wield and control bright blue flames that can be either painless or scorching. He has demonstrated superhuman senses, strength, speed, and agility in dealings with cultists and demon hunters alike(2), and has such incredibly high pain tolerance that he has been reported to laugh even when attacked with weapons effective against other demons, such as religious paraphernalia.

Alcor is also all-knowing, and can see both the future and the past. He knows stunning amounts of information about those who summon him before they even speak, and may also be able to read minds(1).

Alcor's most dangerous power by far is his ability to manipulate reality. He can move or transfigure objects and people without any apparent effort, freezing his summoners in place or making objects fly around the room. He has left written messages, often in blood, in some spaces where he is summoned(1).

Disposition: Alcor's personality and disposition are some of the biggest mysteries still facing researchers today. Reports of summonings have made Alcor out to be anything from friendly and kind to bloodthirsty and deranged, and he is as likely to leave summoners dead as he is to let them live, sometimes regardless of what mood he appears to be in(1). Current theories suggest a multitude of possibilities, including a number of demons with different dispositions sharing the same name and appearance to give the impression of an emotionally unstable demon, or that Alcor behaves this way on purpose specifically to confuse humans(1). Alcor's apparent disposition cannot be considered an accurate gauge for how likely he is to cause harm.

The wiki didn't shy away from details, from a description of the oozing internal organs that made up one demon to a step-by-step guide to another demon's ritual for eating faces. Mabel was vaguely nauseated by the time she'd finished reading the pages for all the demons. She shut the computer down and flopped on to her bed, not bothering to move the stuffed animals she landed on out from under her.

Demons could move things, and would have been able to do the paint-writing trick—at least, some of them could. But there had been no reason why one of them would.

A ghost she could understand. She and Dipper were close, and ghosts were known to hang around people or objects they were close to, to reenact their lives. It would have made sense if it was Dipper's ghost, trying to live life with his sister again after dying so young and so suddenly.

But a demon? What reason would a demon have for doing these things? For mimicking Dipper's behavior, for doing things that were undeniably Dipper, not undeniably evil?

It couldn't be a demon, it didn't make sense. There was no motive there, unless some demon thought that deluding her into believing it was her brother was fun enough to be worth the trouble.

So it had to be Dipper's ghost, then. That didn't explain why the sage burning hadn't helped him to the afterlife, though. Maybe he was just a really resilient ghost?

That had to be it.

Probably.

Mabel woke with a start, still in her clothes, still lying on her bed like she'd been the night before. She hadn't meant to fall asleep.

She rolled out of bed, knocking a few of her stuffed animals to the floor in the process, and tried to blink the sleep-gunk from her eyes. Something about her room looked different, but it was hard to put her finger on it.

She started with the big stuff, and the furniture was all still in place, and the murals and paintings on the walls hadn't changed.

Then she looked a bit harder at her constantly-messy floor.

The candles from the night before had been arranged neatly in a circle, with everything cleared out of the middle of the circle, except Dipper's old pine tree hat, which rested gently in the center.

It had to be some kind of message from Dipper. The hat was important, in some way. It had to be. But how? And what part could it play in helping Dipper move on?

"Bro-bro, what do I need to do with this?" Mabel asked her apparently empty room. Dipper's ghost had been able to write before, and she was sure he'd find a way to answer her now, when it was something so important.

The candles all spontaneously lit themselves, glowing eerily in a circle around the hat.

Ok, so the candles were important, and the hat was important, but how did they relate?

The candle flames burned brighter, and Mabel facepalmed. In her research, she'd learned that sometimes ghosts were tied to objects that had been important to them in life, and Dipper had worn this hat nonstop that final summer. It had been a gift from family, and something he constantly wore, and what else could he have been tied to?

The journal, she thought, or you.

She didn't linger on those thoughts. What was important was that Dipper was telling her that he wasn't able to move on because he was tied to an object, and now he was giving her that object and telling her how to destroy it.

That means he's okay with it, Mabel told herself. He's ready to move on, but he needs your help.

Mabel reached into the circle, careful not to burn the sleeves of her sweater, and grabbed the hat.

She'd been ready to set her brother's soul free before, so why was she hesitating now? Why were her hands shaking?

Mabel squared her shoulders and lowered her dead brother's hat into the nearest candle flame. The fire caught, and her brother's tether to the world was burning, disappearing into ash. Mabel quickly grabbed a plastic palette board off her desk and put it on the ground under the burning hat to catch the ashes, both so she could dispose of them properly and so the carpet wouldn't catch fire.

As the flames crept towards her fingers, which were gripping the brim tight, she dropped the remainder of the hat to the palette board, where the last of it burned to ash.

"Bye, bro-bro," Mabel whispered.

The candles flickered out, one by one.

For the next few days, everything was back to the way it had been before the haunting started. Mabel disposed of the hat's ashes in the brook near the house, hoping that Dipper's soul would be swept to the afterlife the same way the ashes of his tether were swept away. Nothing was organized for her. Nothing was moved, period.

She'd done it. Her brother was finally at peace.

At least, that's what she thought until she came home from a movie night with friends to find a note on a piece of her old pig stationery (she'd forgotten she had that until then, actually).

Scrawled on the paper in handwriting that was somehow simultaneously smooth and messy was the question Do you hate me?

How could she answer that, when she didn't know who had even written it? Her brother's ghost had moved on, or should have, and he was (she assumed) the only one who'd left messages before. Unless it had all been the work of a demon, misleading her for whatever reason, in which case there was no reason for them to have been banished with the burning of Dipper's hat.

"I don't know who you are to be able to hate you," Mabel whispered.

The lights in the room flickered, and when they turned back on, there was a note scrawled on her desk blotter, the pen used to write it rolling across the desk, uncapped.

You used to

That didn't sound like the kind of thing her brother would say, and Mabel began thinking that maybe it was a demon doing all this to her, maybe her brother had actually moved on when he died.

If it was Dipper, though, it was true in a way. Ghosts didn't change once they died, as far as Mabel knew at least, but she very well could have forgotten enough of her brother alive for him to be a stranger to her dead.

"Then how can I know you again?" Mabel asked.

The lights flickered again, but not for as long, and then there was something new on her desk blotter, scorched into the paper instead of written onto it, an elaborate circle with symbols and runes around the edge, and a star in the middle.

Mabel stumbled backwards. Demon. Definitely demon.

And from what she'd seen in her research, the demon haunting her was none other than Alcor, the Devourer of Souls, Lord of the Nightmare Realm, with over a hundred people dead and a hundred more missing because of him.

Mabel didn't want to be the next one gone. She approached the desk, grabbed the top sheet of the desk blotter, and roughly tore it off, then ripped it in two, breaking the circle. She tore it again, even as the lights flickered and the word please kept flashing into her room, written onto the desk blotter, bleeding from the walls, the backs of her eyelids showing it in negative.

She grabbed a lighter and set the remnants of the circle on fire, throwing them into her metal wastebasket and watching as the word please appeared even in the smoke.

"Never," she hissed out. "I will never be stupid enough to summon you. Stop pretending to be Dipper! Stop messing with me! I will never have anything to do with you, so just leave me alone!"

The last of the paper burned away, and everything was quiet.