With the other party guests gone, save for the one sleeping beside her, the room had gone silent. Wendy rubbed at her head, absently looking through the room. Where had everyone gone?

She blinked a few times, looking towards the window. It was dark outside, but she couldn't tell if it was the darkness of a stormy day or the deep dark of night. Time seemed to have stilled since the others left, and Wendy's awakening as having finally turned the clock back on.

They really cleaned up, Wendy thought. The floor was impeccably clean, free of cheese puffs and discarded plastic cups. There wasn't even a piece of confetti in sight, which was rather surprising considering Mabel practically sweat tiny pieces of colorful paper. Where hand made decorations and signs had been were blank wooden walls. There weren't any discarded socks or shoes either, nor even any game boards.

It was almost as if the others had ever been in the room at all.

But that's ridiculous, Wendy thought as she sat up. She turned towards Soos, her mouth half open, but then shut it. He looked to be sleeping just fine, curled up into a tight ball.

They wouldn't have ditched them, would they? It wasn't like they were old; whatever reckless activities the group was probably doing, Wendy and Soos could gladly join in. Though she may not have known everyone - she had never seen the kid in the red hoodie or the blue haired girl since she had come back from college - she was sure they would have liked her.

Wendy's sigh, heavy and deep, filled the room. It broke the thick silence, like a rag that finally broke a growing layer of dust.

The only reply she got was the creaking of boards from upstairs. Too thin to be footsteps - nothing but the shack settling in on itself.

They couldn't have cleaned up everything while I was gone, Wendy thought. I would have heard them.

Soos, she knew, could sleep through anything. Though she herself didn't wake at every tiny noise, she surely would have at least awoken to footsteps all around her or the sound of a vacuum cleaner.

Soos didn't even stir at the noise.

That game really must have been boring, Wendy thought as she slowly stood up. Her legs felt as though they had been filled with sand - that, or she had been sleeping longer than she thought.

And how could I? Wendy thought. The wood had felt like hell, digging into her back and neck. It was amazing that she'd managed to fall asleep at all.

They'd played that game last night, the one in that weird box. Her last memory was reciting some words after coloring some paper.

It definitely doesn't seem exciting now, Wendy thought again. Her head swerved around the room again, half expecting one of the others to jump out at her. But no one else appeared, and she didn't hear even the slightest giggle.

Wendy bit her lip. She had always been one to speak her mind, so why be silent now? If Soos could sleep through everyone cleaning up and leaving, then surely he could handle her saying something.

"Look, if you guys are trying to play some kind of joke-"

"Wendy!"

Wendy jumped a few feet in the air and Soos sat straight up, eyes wide.

"What the heck is going on here?" Stan asked. He stood by the door, all dressed for work (including his fez), and holding some envelopes. "Wendy? Soos?"

"Hey, Mister Pines!" A large grin spread across Soos's face and he waved to the older man. Even though he hadn't been awake thirty seconds, the guy was already cheery.

How does he do it? Wendy thought.

She straightened her back and waved at Stan as well. "Hey, Stan! Have you seen Mabel or Dipper?"

"Why are you two worried about them?" Stan asked, his voice rising. He waved his hand absently around the room. "What matters right now is work, not to mention your lack of doing it. It's one thing to goof off, and another thing for me to find you guys sprawled on the floor of my living room. Sweet Moses, you kids really are weird."

Soos shot up and began to dust himself off. "My apologies, Mister Pines. What do you need me to do?" His smile only widened, as if he wanted to show off every tooth in his mouth.

Stan cocked his thumb upstairs. "Go grab your tool kit from upstairs and then go to the outhouse outside. Someone caused a few problems there, and I am not going to listen to another person whine about the Shack having no indoor plumbing for customers."

"Sir, yes sir!" Soos quickly scuttled away.

Stan turned back towards her, though his eyes were only half on Wendy. His gaze was focused mostly on the envelopes, which he was flipping through again and again.

"Uh, Stan," Wendy said. "Are you okay?"

Stan looked straight at her, his gaze hardening. "How can I be when you're slacking off? Do you think that the cash register works itself?"

"But Stan, I don't work for you-"

If looks could kill then Wendy's heart would have stopped the moment Stan's eyes again fell on her. "Didn't I make it clear enough? Get to work right now!"

Only minutes before, the room had been almost totally silent. Now, the very walls echoed Stan's cries.

Wordlessly, he turned away, his hands still filled with envelopes.

What? Wendy thought. He knew she was gone. It was hard to work for him when her college was miles away, and he had actually thrown a small party for her before she left. Admittedly, the decorations had been dollar store quality (and used ones at that) and everyone only got one cupcake, but he had definitely seen her go.

Maybe it's just an old man thing, Wendy thought.

Yet his memory had seemed to stay sharp through his old age. In only a few years he would be one hundred, yet he still walked around (with his cane) as if he were only seventy.

Can't you just yell at some kids to get off your lawn? Wendy thought. Or bully some tourists into buying your overpriced and tacky souvenirs?

With a sigh, Wendy turned towards the stairs. Maybe Soos would go looking for the others with her, and if Stan caught them and asked what they were doing, she could claim that he'd asked for her help on something.

If I really am working for him again, Wendy thought as she moved up the stairs, her hand on the rail, then I better be getting a paycheck too.

Suddenly, Dipper was preferring the darkness. Though, for the most part, the place was still shadowy, Bill seemed to have an eerie light of his own radiating from his body. It was a dark yellow, mostly coming near his eyes and the tips of his hair. As little light as there was, it was enough for Dipper's eyes to finally adjust and make out the area he was in. What had once seemed like an endless pit was just a room - a very, very large room. Mirrors lined it, and for the most part the place seemed empty. Still, it wouldn't have surprised him if there was furniture somewhere inside.

Bill's back was leaned absently against the wall, his fingers absently running through his shaggy yellow hair. His one eye was locked tightly on Dipper, and was as steady as the wide grin spread across his face.

Those teeth sure looked sharp.

Dipper tightened his fists. He hadn't called on Bill to worry about his teeth or his smile - the smile that a cat made whenever it cornered a mouse. What he needed was information, something that the journal couldn't provide him now (and, he wondered, even if he did have it, would it even help?), and Bill was the only guy who could give it to him.

Not the broker I want, Dipper reminded himself, but all that I have.

"You called?"

Dipper merely scowled back at him. "Look, you told me that we're playing some sort of game and just what..." He paused for a moment. "Or rather, who the prize is." His voice was lower than usual and scratchy. Did water exist here? Would he want to drink water from this nightmarish place? For all he knew it would be Bill's equivalent to six pomegranate seeds.

Bill raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm glad to know that you've thought things over."

"Just tell me the rules!" His voice rose (just how even he didn't know), sending a sharp stab of pain down his throat.

Bill merely smirked at Dipper's outburst. "I thought you didn't care about rules."

Dipper's glare tightened.

"I mean," Bill said, waving his pale hand around, "when have you ever cared for rules? You never listen to your great uncle or your parents, and ignore teachers whenever you can get away with it without hurting your grades. You make your sister do your chores because you're too busy studying or on your computer. When your uncle tried to stop you from messing with the supernatural, you outright ignored him, even when you knew just how dangerous it was." His tone had dropped near the end. "Even now, when you aren't just a gullible little kid, you've still lived through what must be a world record of near death experiences."

"You shouldn't-"

"Shouldn't what?" Bill stepped closer, the light growing bright and flickering, almost as if it were fire. "Shouldn't know about that? It's pretty hard considering you advertised it to the whole town. Supernatural creatures noticed you because you wouldn't leave them alone, wouldn't look away. You were a walking sign to get noticed. So why wouldn't I notice you too?" He pointed a finger out, the nail of which suddenly looked as sharp as his teeth. "Whatever you think of me, just know that I don't give my protection to anybody. If you think luck is what kept you alive for so long, then you're wrong. You have me to thank for your life, for a lot of things."

Dipper opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again.

My throat hurts, he reminded himself. And while it was true, it wasn't the only reason he had.

"So how about you make it up to me by playing this game?" His grin returned, but Dipper couldn't return it. "I know we'll have lots of fun."

His next motion was quick, his arms moving so fast that they blurred in the dim yellow light. The only real recognition Dipper got was the pain, fast and hot, as it seared over his forehead and he fell. Bill certainly was stronger than he looked.

With what little strength he had, Dipper reached his arms out, struggling to find something, anything, to hold onto. But he wasn't fast enough.

The last thing he saw before his head hit the floor was Bill, still smiling that sharp toothed grin.

Bill sighed. If it was rules that he had wanted, then he would have given them. There had been none in the beginning, but he supposed strings could be pulled if Dipper wanted them.

Though that too came with a price. Bill sighed before reverting to his true form. There was only so much time that he could take resembling a human, and it was getting rather tiring. He had hoped that his human form would entice the boy, but he merely scowled at it. Bill's body could change into the most aesthetically pleasing body to ever grace humans and he would still scowl at him.

Their last few interactions, he feared, were going to be much the same. Yelling and getting nowhere - Dipper furious and Bill ready to give him what he wanted, if only he could get something in return.

Bill floated forward. There was still a game to get to; the night was only so long, and there was no point in wasting all his time on Dipper.

There would be time to work out their problems in the future.

All the time in the world.

"How much of this did you see?" Norman asked, turning his eyes towards Salma. The two stood behind a building, bodies hidden in the shadows. There was noise everywhere, from the breaking of glass around them to the cries of an angry mob that was growing closer and closer, along with the crackling of thunder that came with the neon green lighting.

"What do you mean?" Salma asked. She reached up and quickly pushed her glasses up her nose before crossing her arms over her chest. Her teeth chattered.

"Weren't you in the room for most of it?"

"Did you really think that I could completely hide from this? I was home, but I saw the world shifting outside my window. I almost thought it was a hurricane until I checked the weather report on her laptop." Her frown deepened. "It wasn't until you and Neil called and told me about the witch, as ridiculous as that sounded, that I actually had an idea of what was going on. And while I may have been lucky enough to be inside my house with four walls to protect me, my parents weren't so lucky."

Norman's face paled. "Your parents were out there?"

Salma nodded. "They're good people, but they can get pretty angry given the chance."

Norman shivered, and not just because of the autumn cold. He could still remember those fingers pointing at him, the dark eyes of the mob looking directly at him. They'd had pitchforks and torches, guns and knives, and pure hatred directly pointed at him.

There were always the "what-ifs", the questions that remained in his mind. What if things had been different? What if they had gotten sick of the ghost boy and gotten rid of him by any means necessary?

What if they had done the same thing to him as they had to Agitha?

The town hadn't blamed him, or at least if they did they hadn't admitted it. Yet whether their apologies and forgiveness came or not, there had still been a reason to come to Oregon.

"You know how we agreed to come check this place out because you found about it having supernatural occurrences on the internet?" Norman asked.

"What do you mean?" Salma raised an eyebrow.

"You know, Gravity Falls," Norman repeated. "That's where we were before we woke up here."

"Yeah?"

"Well, I think we found more than just a simple small town haunting."

Norman closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut.

There's no place like home, he thought, trying to remember the peaceful streets of his New England town. Before he and his friend had taken their unofficial road trip, he had at least been excited to leave the place.

Now? Now it was hard to believe that anywhere was really safe.

Still, at least things could be explained back in Blythe Hollow. Things made sense.

There's no place like home, Norman repeated. The phrase echoed through his mind, like a broken record that kept scratching out the same words over and over.

But you are home, a little voice in his head broke in, breaking through the repetition.

So now that it's summer I'm going to try and update more often. Emphasis on try.