( A/N: AH THIS UPDATE IS SO LATE. I'm so sorry, I've been suddenly bombarded with tests and quizzes out the whazoo. D: The next chapter will be a bit longer that this as an I-owe-you sort of... thing, haha. ALSO this is important:

I have decided to update this story bi-weekly ( so one chapter will be posted every two weeks, unless I decide to add more one-shots in) due to my schedule being unpredictable. I will also be extending this story to end near Christmas or New Year's, because I've been thinking on plot quite a bit, and it's going to need a few more chapters than what I intended for it to have. It does not help that my chapters are already quite short, lol.

So here you go! Don't be shy and feel free to review! :3 If you have any questions, I will be happy to answer them.)

Howl, Chapter 3

In the midst of twilight, upon the following day, there was a sea of haze that came rolling in, the breath of gods and devils alike. The Mystery Shack became enshrouded in it as the sun cowered away and the moon's reign triumphed. And still, as they began to appear, the stars twinkled fiercely and pierced through the veil of smog, beads of crystalline dew already dazzling the lucid landscape.

" The Ojibwe peoples- respectively- would hang them above the head of their children and loved ones as they slept, as an extension of Mother Spider's love and protection."

Bill had re-assumed triangle form and was watching Dipper speak- offendedly so- with a small and superciliously disinterested family in the Mystery Shack, presenting a colossal hand-woven dream-catcher which was adorned with soft leather, turquoise beads, and falcon feathers. The sight of it made the dream demon cringe in the way that other demons might if holy water was bestowed upon them, and he burrowed further into Dipper's hat in the corner of the room amongst a pile of cluttered junk, where he had spent the majority of his day- which had not been quite as productive as he had hoped for. There had been very little dialogue between himself and the human since the previous night, and it was rather beginning to irk the Eye of Providence, because he was not even given the satisfaction of Dipper's rejection. No, instead, he was ignored.

" They filter out bad dreams, and leave only the good ones," Dipper elabourated for a while longer, and eventually turned away to bid farewell to the family, as they were the last before closing time. As he did so, Bill began to feel the ground below him leave and the pressure of it cease, and he clung to the inside of the hat very quickly.

Stanley had plucked it from the floor and casually dawdled over to Dipper, Bill curving his body along the arch of the cap and remaining as still and as silent as possible.

" Come on, Dipper; A grown man doesn't leave his crap on the ground," the elderly man shot the boy an imperturbable grin.

Dipper spun around forthwith to face him, and caught a glimpse of gold from the inside of the hat, nearly breaking into a panicked sweat. Stan had Bill right in his very grasp. This did not bode well.

Obviously.

Bill would have teleported, had his energy not been so immensely expended from creating and shifting in and out of a human form and from Mindscape to reality. Which was only an illusion, of course. Quite the exhausting disillusion, too.

" Grunkle Stan," Dipper barely escaped a stammer, and reached forward to collect the hat. Stanley moved it away from him a bit, and Dipper bit down hard on his tongue, his canines drawing blood.

Bill, meanwhile, was preoccupied with giving a very sardonic eye-roll to the situation which was unfolding before himself and the human boy. He would much rather have preferred to float out and give Stanford Pines a sudden stroke. The man was quite near a century old now, as it was. He should have been dead- what?- at ninety-two?

" You really should take better care of things that you care for," Stan chided. Old, yes. Definitely old.

Dipper tried to loosen his body movement for the welfare of appearing somewhat more unceremonious, and resorted instead to folding his arms firmly over each other, raising a bushy brown eyebrow at his grunkle. He flipped one of his hands over flatly and outward, gesturing for the hat yet again.

This time, it was granted to him.

He wasted no time in plopping it onto his head, Stan giving a short and amused scoff before brushing past his nephew and out of the Mystery Shack's door. Dipper waited until he was out of sight to release a relieved sigh, removing his hat again and pulling Bill out by a leg.

" That was way too close, Cipher."

He placed the Eye of Providence upon a shelf and walked off to gather the key to lock up for the night, and Bill followed him out and into the house, perching upon his shoulder once they reached the bedroom. Dipper sloppily let his legs give way as he neared the mattress, sinking into it. He leaned against the bed-frame and let loose another sigh.

" We're going to have to tell him eventually."

Bill's singular eye gave a very deliberate blink, which Dipper took to be a wink.

" I'm sixteen steps ahead of you, kid."

The triangular creature floated upward, and there was a subdued flaxen glow as he reconstructed into a man. He took his place beside his brunet companion, leaving a reasonably measurable chasm between them. That chasm ran deep.

His voice as haunting as the very bowels of Hell, he hummed, " Just sit right here, and listen to me..."

The truck engine gave a fatigued heave as it was shut off.

Dipper unbuckled and leaned back in his seat, his hand still tense upon the keys. He glanced over at his yellow-haired passenger, scrutinising the very face of malevolence- the monster with one eye.

Bill's fists were clenched tightly to whatever surface he could find, red from the pressure that they were enforcing, his fine eyebrows pushed up in concern. There was a subtle tremour that eclipsed his body, and he hadn't seemed to register the fact that the vehicle had stopped moving. Dipper wasn't about to to tell him that it had, either, and proceeded to exit the truck. He shut his door and walked around the back before stopping in front of Bill's, the man frowning at him from the tinted window. Surely he knew how to open a car door.

" Pine Tree."

His voice was demanding, and Dipper took it as confirmation that the all-knowing demon was clueless as to how to liberate himself from the captivity of an automobile. He gave the glass a few sharp taps against Bill's face, and doing so had Bill so red and unbridled and raging, and pressing his face even harder against the window.

" Say please," Dipper quipped. He knew that he was pushing his luck with the devil, but this was just too rich to pass up. Bill snarled.

" Dipper Pines-"

" Go on."

A silence.

" Please, get me out of this thing, before I-"

Dipper had been watching as Bill leaned his entire weight against the door, and took the opportunity to swing it open, sauntering off and grinning widely as a shrill yelp and dull thud were sounded moments later.

...Bill wouldn't mind the pain.

He inspected his reflection in the dressing room's mirror, drinking in his new appearance for the first time.

There had been the bathroom mirror, yes, but this one was full-length and quite a bit cleaner. He was pleased with his work, and now he was twisting about every which way, familiarising himself with every angle of his body. It was lean and sun-kissed, and if he positioned himself closer to the mirror, he could even see pores and split ends from having used Dipper's comb with broken teeth. And on his elbow now was an inflamed little patch of scraped flesh, which he deduced, would have been from falling out of that awful mistake of human invention.

But there was blood now.

He had done very well with this meat-sack costume and-

" Bill!"

He tangled his fingers through his own hair upon the crack of Pine Tree's demanding voice, and reached down to gather the clothes that hung limply on the door before exiting the crammed space, dropping them in an exasperated Dipper's arms.

Dipper was none too surprised that the pile Bill had burdened him with consisted primarily of yellows and blacks and blues, and he gave a bemused shake of his head and led the blond man to the till to pay.

Bill, in the meantime, had occupied himself with studying and prodding about the colourfully-wrapped sweets nearby, impatiently waiting for the employee whom Dipper was interacting with to hurry and scan things so that he could proceed with the plan that he had devised. He was well aware that Dipper was going to be taking his time in returning to the shack, somewhat less than enthusiastic about what would await him as a result of Bill's proposal.

Bill could play that game, too.

Unashamedly, spindly phalanges flashed to and fro from the till and back again, a new bar of candy added with each return.

Dipper's reaction was delayed, and baffled, he finally grabbed ahold of Bill's assaulting carpal as the fifth bar of chocolate was laid upon the counter, glaring daggers at the golden orb with his own copper set.

He was met with an even sharper and more dangerous grin, and he pulled the man forcibly closer to him, prompting him to stay right there until the girl had completed her task of scanning each tag and folding each article of clothing into a bag. He glanced over the sweets that Bill had so annoyingly chosen:

Butterfingers, all five of them.

The yellow wrappers were what had attracted the demon, and Dipper was not at all surprised. If Bill stayed about until October, there was inevitably going to be a less than evadable predicament with candy corn. He returned three of the bars to their origin, and carried on to buy the other two, thanking the girl as she handed him his bags. He didn't hesitate to walk out of the store, knowing that Bill would be all too prepared to follow after him.

Expectedly, yes, Bill capered after the human until he had beaten him back to the lory, and was tugging at the handles listlessly. Dipper unlocked the doors and placidly placed the shopping in the back, before circling about the back of the trunk to climb into his seat and start the engine.

Then there was a pang of reluctance that surged through him and he swivelled his gaze back upon the golden-haired devil, removing his hands from the steering wheel and furrowing his heavy brows in contemplation.

Was he letting this entire situation go down a bit too casually?

No, no. This was absolutely the correct way to go about it. He was not giving Bill any negative or even positive reactions in regard to his frivolous requests, although upon further investigation, Dipper's assumption of thinking that a reaction was what Bill Cipher had actually wanted was proving to be wrong.

Still, though, the personification of the Eye of Providence it- himself- had not quite defined a deal with him, and that was what was vexing him more than anything. Of course Bill was one to be absurdly cryptic, and seldom ever met an exact point, and perhaps that was the angle in all of this.

Even more strangely, the dream demon had been absent in presenting himself to Dipper when he succumbed to his slumber at night, although having not even been two weeks since they'd reunited after such a long time. There was no precise way of confirming this oddity as a good or bad or neutral thing, and that, to Dipper, was inordinately concerning.

" Your soul."

He snapped out of his daze at the trill of Bill's words and focused his vision upon his face.

Volatile. Anticipated. Stereotypical.

" In exchange for your safety. Yours, and your family's."

...Ah.

Stanley Pines had raised the ceramic coffee mug to his wrinkled lips, sipping at the burning and bitter black liquid that tasted of dirt water. His gaze- not unlike his coffee in attributes- shifted to the window before him as he awaited the return of his grand-nephew.

Dipper had woken at a very inconvenient time just before the dawn, announcing, as he strode through the halls haphazardly that he intended to go into town for clothes shopping and that he would return by that afternoon. Before Stanley could even think to inquire anything, the front door had slammed and the sound of a truck engine could be heard dwindling past the horizon. Not too particularly odd, as Dipper- albeit quiet- possessed quite the heavy hand and was still a man of few words, always in a rush regardless of how many times Stanley had told him to slow down a bit. And so, Stanley had just shut his eyes with a mental shake of his head, and had let himself drift back to sleep. It was too early to be bothered with Dipper's bouts of not-so-peculiarity.

Now a throbbing tremour was sending itself coursing through Stanley's corroding vertebrae , which thus cascaded throughout the rest of his nerves and sent spasms possessing his muscles.

The mug and its contents dropped to the wooden floor as the rumble of an engine neared the house.

Stanley was quick to retain control over his body and shot up to his feet, pulling the tattered armchair over his mess whilst simultaneously kicking the broken shards of grey-speckled ceramic under it. He would tend to it later- perhaps. Presently, though, it would be abandoned and he would find himself out on the creaky old porch, watching Dipper step out from the sputtering lory with shopping bags, and-

" You can get out now," was heard, and this piqued Stan's interests immensely so.

From the inside of tinted windows, there was no mistaking a glimmer of gold.

Dipper had met Stan halfway and the two made eye-contact, both stares quite reflective of each other- stoic and still somehow suspended in anticipation and suspicion.

" A friend," Dipper began, and as Stanley stared on toward the vehicle, a pair of spindly legs clad in black slacks slid to the dusty dirt below, " from college."

The passenger's door shut with a misplaced force and upon those two black tendrils skulked a slender stranger, donning a halo for hair and pyrite for a stare and honey-marble for his hide. It was atop the threads of an illusory web that this gentleman did skulk and he settled himself adjacent to Dipper.

" He's looking for work this Summer, if you'll allow him here,"

Stan's florid nose, hooked and hanging, gave a subtle scrunch and his lips parted to say no to the idea of this marauder in and of itself. Alas, they were short on employees and it would mean a number of consequences as the season dragged on to be lacking in them. Even the addition of Mabel and Stanford in the weeks to come wouldn't be near enough.

He snorted.

" He's not interested in a salary, only in the experience,"

Looking the man over, it didn't appear as if he needed the money. A rich boy, probably, with wealthy parents. Foreign, as well, by the very looks of him, although Stanley could not lay a finger on which ethnicity he hailed from. Hebrew? Egyptian? Italian? Romanian? It was something much more archaic and recherché .

" And he'll be sharing my room with me, so I'll set up the futon for him,"

Accented with glass-sherd talons, an angular appendage was offered unto Stan along with a grin laced with nitroglycerin. The dandy's sacrifices were countered with a scoff and Stan stubbornly folded his arms over each other, some sliver of him yearning to intimidate the boy. A means of defense, admittedly, because perceptively- maybe he was a little inclined to paranoia- something amongst the gears and cogs like rotten rust did not bode well with this mechanical state of affairs.

" Allow me to introduce myself, Mister Pines" his first saccharine words like honey dripped from lips like rose petals.

" My name is..."

( A/N: *cue Aqua Teen Hunger Force theme song* ...Just kidding. x: I am still deciding on an alternative name for Bill. If you have any ideas, I'm totally open to suggestions!

Next update will be around October the 23-25 and I will also attempt to post a one-shot for Halloween before I leave my dorm for that weekend.

Again, reviews and questions are very welcome! Thanks for reading. :3

-Dorian Corbin )