That whole episode was insane but I still can't get over the fact that Dipper was on his own for three days. To quote, "everything hurts".

Back when Gideon stole the Shack from them, the few minutes spent sitting on the bus and staring out the window at the Gravity Falls sign fading in the distance, Dipper had thought things were bad.

Back when Bill ripped him out of his own body, the few hours he'd spent watching his body abused, used against his own family, he'd thought things were worse.

Back when he was plastered against the wall in the Shack's basement, watching the numbers tick down as gravity failed and Mabel looked at him with tears in her eyes, he'd thought it was the worst moment of his life.

He was wrong.

That was supposed to be the worst it could get, right? He was just a kid on vacation, a kid much too curious for his own good in a town full of magic, but-

For a heartbeat, he's walking down the street, axe in his backpack and notebook in hand, Mabel at his side – we are on fire today! For a heartbeat, he's standing on the roof, microphone in hand as he grins at Stan and Mabel, singing and watching heads explode. For a heartbeat, he's sitting next to Mabel, half-asleep with her head on his shoulder, two hours into Ducktective and no sign of quitting soon.

Then the heartbeat ends, and he's standing in the street alone, screams and unearthly cries echoing in his ears like he's underwater. The buildings around him barely resemble such, crumbled and crushed and burning. Torn paper flutters through the air, ripped newspapers mingling with the ash and smoke. Burning pages, burning like the journals. Burning like his scrawled handwriting next to Ford's, like Mabel's colorful illustrations. Burning like the person he'd seen just an hour ago in the crumpled car-

He shuts his eyes. He doesn't want to see anymore, he doesn't want to see, he doesn't want this-

The world is ending. It's not like he hadn't imagined it before. In quiet nightmares in the dead of night, or lazy days in the Shack where he couldn't distract himself. It's about as awful as he imagined. Almost.

In every nightmare, every daydream, he'd always had Mabel by his side.

Now he's alone.

The first day is accompanied by a merciful sort of numbness. The shock of seeing Ford turned to gold, the loss of the journals, the loss of – well, everything – it's too much. Too much to take in.

He doesn't have to, at first. He doesn't have time to. He's too busy running.

His head throbs with every step, pulsing in agony as he stumbles through the rubble. His side feels like it's been set aflame, and he's pretty sure there's something wrong with his arm - Bill threw him hard, too hard, and it hurts just to think about.

The growling speech of Bill's lackey grows louder from behind him, and Dipper abruptly remembers he doesn't have time to think. He needs to run, he needs to run faster, to find someone before they kill him-

They're trying to kill him. They're gonna eat him alive if they catch him, oh god, they're gonna-

His foot catches on loose rubble, and Dipper stumbles forward, hands stinging as they scrape across the jagged concrete. He gasps for breath, shoving himself up before they-

A hand closes around his ankle, dragging him off the ground. Dipper stares in blank panic at the demon, the chain around its gnarled green skin clanking slightly as it stares at him with the soulless, glowing eyes – not even eyes, magic eight balls, what the hell-

The demon leers at him, tongue tracing the outline of its razor teeth. "Pretty fast for a human, Pine Tree person, but you're not fast enough."

Dipper screams, flailing wildly as the demon laughs. He lashes out with his arms, kicking furiously in desperation, panic blinding him.

"Let me go!"

The demon gives a surprised cry of pain of his fist scores a hit, nails raking into its skin, and the hold around his ankle loosens, leaving him to drop harshly to ground. With a choking gasp, Dipper ducks a swipe, dashing forward.

"You let it get away, you idiot!"

Dipper barely hears them, blood roaring in his ears as he flies forward, legs burning as he races through the streets. He has to find someone, he needs to find help.

There's no one. No one on the streets, no one in the buildings, not a soul to be seen anywhere. He's on his own.

A blinding wave of panic sweeps him as he hears Bill's demons drawing closer, nearing the corner he'd managed to round. His head whips side to side, looking for anyone, anything-

He throws himself through the broken glass of a shop window just as the demons round the corner, crawling behind the smashed cashier's counter, ignoring the shards of glass he feels slicing into his hands and knees. He flattens himself into the corner, curling his knees to his chest. Through the debris cluttering the shop, he can just barely see the street where the two demons have stopped, looking around.

Dipper's heart stops. His breathing is too loud, much too loud, they're going to find him, they're going to kill him and eat him alive –

He buries his head in his arms, choking down a panicked whine.

Leave, he thinks, eyes clenching shut. Leave, leave, please leave, just go-

By some miracle still left in the world, the demons give up, turning back the way they came, muttering about Bill as several of the winged eye-things flutter by. Their voices soon fade from view, leaving the street silent, save for the crackle of burning buildings and faint sound of sirens in the distance.

Dipper doesn't move. He sits there, arms pulled tightly around his knees as he stares blankly at the empty street, heart still racing in his chest.

They're gone. He's safe.

But he's not, is he?

Dipper shrinks farther back into the corner, his breath hitching. So many people. There are so many people in Gravity Falls, Lazy Susan and Tyler and Robbie and Nate and Candy and Soos and Wendy-

Grunkle Stan.

Mabel.

He has no idea where they are. Where she is. He hasn't seen a single person since Ford was – was. They could be hurt, captured, they could be-

Dipper shuts down. He can't even think of the other option. He can't bear to. He can't, he can't, he can't-

With shaking fingers, he pulls the walkie-talkie out of his vest, pressing down on the tiny button. A bust of static erupts from the speaker, and Dipper feels like he's having a heart attack as he quickly muffles it in his vest. He bites his lip in exhausted terror until it quiets. He finally pulls it out again, pulling it shakily towards his mouth.

"M-Mabel?"

There's nothing but silent, hissing static. Dipper swallows, pressing the button again.

"Mabel, Mabel, I'm so sorry, I – Mabel, please."

Nothing.

A hiccupping sob rips out of his throat, wracking his body with tremors. His nails bite into the bare skin of his legs, and he buries his face in his knees again.

In the distance, he can hear another siren cut off.

The second day is almost worse. Believe it or not.

At least, he thinks it's the second day. The sky doesn't change from the awful bleeding color, and according to Bill, time has no meaning anymore. It feels like the next year, though.

Dipper remains hidden in the wrecked shop for countless hours. He can't remember when he stopped crying and the blank numbness set in, but it must've been a while ago. Almost long enough that it's probably safe enough to step outside. Other than the one-eyed bats, he hasn't seen any other demons, so that's a good sign.

On the other hand, he hasn't seen any people, either, which does nothing to help the heavy pit in his stomach.

Glass crunches as he climbs out, and Dipper winces. He bites back a groan as he stands for the first time in hours, gingerly pulling a shard of glass from his palm. He blinks, his eyes sore and puffy as he looks around. There's nothing but smoldering wreckage all around, huge gaping tears carved straight out of buildings and houses, traffic lights still sparking where they lie tangled amidst rubble.

Dipper takes a shaky breath. He begins walking.

He makes it two blocks before the silence begins to kill him, eating into whatever tattered remains he has left of his courage. He reaches into his vest again, pulling the walkie talkie out.

"Mabel?" he whispers, hands tight around the walkie-talkie. "Mabel, I don't know if you can hear me, but I – I could really use your help right now."

Nothing answers him but a choppy burst of static, as hollow and empty as before.

He takes another breath, peering around the street corner before continuing forward. "I don't know where I'm going," he continues speaking into the walkie talkie. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to do, Mabel."

He has to pause to climb over a pile of broken masonry, wobbling slightly on the loose stone before he skids down to the other side. He stands still for a minute, staring out at the empty streets before him. The buildings are cast in the same hellish glow everything else is, looking like the post-apocalyptic war zones he's only seen in video games and PG-13 movies before.

This is his life now, he thinks, almost hysterically.

"Where am I supposed to go, Mabel?" he says faintly. He can't go back to the Shack, no matter how much he wants to. It's the first place Bill would expect him to go. The bunker's far, but if he can make it to the woods, then maybe-

"Somebody, please – help!"

The sudden scream sends him stumbling back, heart in his throat. He freezes. That's a human scream. That's a person.

He dashes toward the voice, stuffing the walkie talkie back in his vest as he skids around the corner. His eyes widen as he sees the owner of the voice, a younger woman trapped in a car half-buried by wreckage. Dipper wastes no time.

"Hey, hey! – you have to be quiet!"

The woman whips her head up, staring at him with wide eyes. There's a slight trickle of blood running down her forehead, but otherwise she looks unharmed. Aside from being trapped in her car.

"Kid," she gasps, shoving pointlessly at her dented car door. "Kid, my door's jammed, you gotta help me – please-"

"Okay, okay, it's okay!" Dipper says, hurriedly, rushing to the car's side. "I'll get you out, okay? Just give me a second."

He tugs desperately at the door, quickly realizing it's hopeless. "Okay," he says, trying to suppress his rising panic. "Okay, your door's stuck, but maybe you can get through the window?"

The woman shakes her head, tears forming in her eyes. "I can't," she chokes. "The seat's got my legs pinned."

"Oh," Dipper says, fighting despair. "Okay, I'll think of something – maybe if you can get the seat back-"

A series of sharp cries echo through the air, along with the ominous flutter of wings. Dipper feels ice enclose around his heart as the woman pales.

"No," she gasps. "No, don't let them get me, don't let them-"

"Shh!" Dipper hisses in panic. The woman's voice has grown to a terrified shriek. "Just – just be quiet, I'm gonna try and pull you out."

He steps up, thrusting his upper half through the car window and pushing desperately at the seat pinning the woman. It refuses to give even an inch, and the flutter of wings are growing louder.

Dipper's heart has climbed to his throat.

"Push," he gasps. "Push back, you gotta help me-"

The woman swears, the tears overflowing as she struggles desperately. She's trying, he's trying, and for a minute it seems as if the seat is going to give-

The rubble above them shifts, crunching into the car and pushing the seat in tighter, all but crushing the woman against the steering wheel. She screams, and Dipper hears a demon scream back.

The fluttering sound of bat wings is too close. The seat isn't moving. Dipper is drowning in panic.

He stares at her, his own terrified eyes meeting her wild, frightened ones.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, brokenly.

But he can't. He can't get caught.

He hears the woman cry in despair as he runs from her, jumping through another smashed window and ducking under a shop table. He's not a second too soon, as three of the one-eyed bats circle the woman's car, staring down at her with their awful, unblinking eyes.

The woman screams. Dipper shuts his eyes. There's a humming sound, and her scream is cut off abruptly.

He barely breathes as he hears the flapping of wings fade, his hands shaking so badly he can barely wrap his fingers around the edge of the walkie talkie.

"Mabel," he chokes out, knuckles white around the device. "Mabel, I need you."

The third day, he remembers he has to eat.

In his defense, he's had a lot more on his mind. Evading being petrified. Dodging into abandoned shops every five minutes. Dealing with the apocalypse.

Remembering none of this would have happened if he'd only talked to Mabel-

His hands find the walkie talkie out of habit.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry, Mabel. I'm sorry for everything. I – I need you. I always need you. You know that, right?"

There's no answer but silence. Not that he'd expected anything different.

"I wish you were here." He stares at the broken, burning town. "Actually, I don't. I wish you were safe. I wish we were all safe, and I was with you, I wish we were turning thirteen and having our birthday party, and you were – you were-"

Dipper breaks off.

Mabel's absence is like a physical wound. How could he have ever, ever thought he could leave her alone at home. How could he ever have taken having her by his side for granted, when without her he was – he was –

Nothing. He feels like nothing. He feels useless, defeated, and alone.

And hungry. And tired, oh, he's so, so tired.

He wishes he'd had the rift. Heck, he wishes he'd broken it. He may as well have.

He wishes Bill had taken him.

His fingers tighten around the walkie talkie, and feels his expression twist into a glare. He can wish for a hundred things, but they won't do Mabel any good.

He lifts the walkie talkie to his lips again.

"I'm gonna find you," he whispers, fiercely. "I'm gonna find you, Mabel, I swear."

He stares up at the bleeding sky, watching the dark shapes of Bill's demons darting towards the town. He needs to hide again, soon, or he'll be caught.

"I swear, Mabel," he says, gasping slightly as he runs towards the alleyway, breath scraping through his throat. "I'm gonna save you."

Dipper crouches in the alleyway, tucking himself against the wall. He can see the mall from here, the once-busy parking lot now a minefield of torn pavement.

"And then I'll make it up to you," he whispers. "I'll make it all up to you."

His grips the walkie talkie like a lifeline.

"I swear."