Step.

Crunch.

The last rays of the sunset, tinged with purples, pinks, and oranges and a multitude of others, silently drifted through the dust caked window. As the light settled through the air, a dark shadow passed by the glass.

It swirled, a red tint highlighting it's frame, hellfire glowing bright. Hungry, furious, terrifying.

There was something else, though. Something . . . unnerving.

Step.

Crunch.

It was him.

Grant.

Red eyes glowing, red hair waving as he walked, tie loosened and white shirt unbuttoned near the neck.

Step.

Creeeaak.

He opened the door with a creak, it's whine spreading throughout the vast room full of wooden beams, rusty metal poles and blood.

"Ah, 'tis a shame." His voice carried across the dead, silent room. It was low, vicious. Mocking. "I had such high hopes for all of you. Serves you right, I suppose. After all, you were thinking of killing me."

Step.

Crunch.

A sneer. He'd known, of course. Had they got the job done they'd be after him next. Which is why, when everything turned sour with a side of death, he'd looked the other way and let them die. Sure, he hated to get his hands dirty but there was a time for all things. Time for the Winchesters to go to hell, time for him to slit their throats. Time for vampires to suffer and time for him to get the job done.

Good stuff, ultimately, am I right?

Step.

Crunch.

His foot landed on a monster but yet still human skull that had rolled in his path. His face twisted into something unreadable; disgust, or a type of dissatisfaction that only an absolute psychopath can achieve as a feeling. Akin, perhaps, to seeing someone you really hate. Or receiving a bad grade on a test. There's that bile that rises in your throat, a feeling of spite welling up inside you, isn't there? Yes. That's how he felt.

He narrowed his eyes, staring into the blank, dead face that gazed back at him. Blood stained their teeth, the edges of their neck. Seeped into the floor, tainting the ground in a sinful way, (although completely by accident and not exactly by fault).

And yet . . . fury rose in his eyes. They had promised. Rotten, lousy-

He pressed down, harder, more forceful. He kept pressing on the head until that satisfying crack broke the silence, the skull shattering and scattering into five separate pieces.

CrAcK.

Then he moved on.

Examined the death without a second glance. Investigated the murder and not flinching a bit. This was what he liked to see. Bodies unmoving, shriveling, rotting, bleeding.  Of course, it was only natural for him to enjoy this. He was, after all, a demon. But not a regular, lower class scum, though, like all the others.

God, no.

Step.

Step.

Heh heh heh.

He was so much better than that. Some, the unobservant ones or the idiots - both meant the same to him - thought him a crossroads demon.

Fools.

They would learn -- no, they would know -- soon enough.

He blinked, turned, took a single step towards the exit and halted in surprise, his eyebrows rising. Colour was dissipating from the area, spreading from the door to the insides of the factory like a disease, slowly at first then rapidly and without mercy. Then he appeared.

"Hello, Bill." He spat. They were friends, yes. But honestly, they were more like . . . business partners. That's all. Strictly business, occasionally friendly.

What demons consider friends is a rather scary thought, to be true.

Bill appeared in a shimmer of white light, his single eye, then the eyepatch and then his body popping into existence. He seemed to grin. No, he did grin. "Oh ho ho! First name basis, are we? That's so - disgusting, isn't it?"

Bloodstain sighed. "We've always been on a first name basis you idiot."

"Hmm. True enough." A pause. Suspicious gazes watched each other, wary. "So! How's that meat sack holding up? Decent, I hope."

"It's fine."

"You're so uptight, geez! You used to be-"

"What do you want, Bill? This is my time and you better not be pulling out on me! Whatever it is, make it short and salty." He crossed his arms and Bill shrugged.

"Burn the books." The dream demon managed a smirk as Bloodstain narrowed his eyes. "The journals. You know them, don't you? I'm a little . . . out of my zone. And of course, this is your time. That's why you do what you do and just do me a small favour! All's well that ends well old buddy old pal!"

There was another pause.
Then, "Fine. Why the hell not."

Bill clapped his hands together.

"Indeed. Why the hell not."

-THEME SONG-

One Day Later, 2:38 PM, Gravity Falls

Gunter gleiben glauchen globen
All right
I got somethin' to say
Yeah, it's better to burn out
Yeah, then fade away
All right
Ow gonna start a fire
C'mon

Dean nudged Sam, eyes alight and grin glowing. It was a smirk, Sam noticed, but not a smirk all the same. It wasn't a forced grin for once, but one that was cultivated by a sadness of some kind. He wasn't alright. They both knew it. Neither of them were, really. And yet, today, in this moment, Rock of Ages by Def Leppard trilling out from the dashboard of the Impala, they were.

Sam grinned back, returning to staring out the window.

Trees rushed by, the buildings a blur, slowly evaporating into more forest and nature than civilisation as they made their way out of town, or, at least, to the outskirts.

And gripped in the younger Winchester's hand was a book. But not just any book. After all the hell that went down and all the hell that was no doubt coming, (after all, Grant was still very much at large. That was today's hunt.), they'd taken the liberty of borrowing Dipper's journal a few days earlier.

Sam had swapped it out for a book of almost exact proportions, convinced Mabel to cut out another hand that looked like her great uncle Ford's because she was nice and artsy like that and filled the book with some of his fathers entries on the Wendigo, Vampires and Poltergeists. It was like a present for Dipper, since they hadn't shown him their own journal. But it was also a replica so that they could examine its mysterious contents.

Part of them winced inwardly, tinged with regret that they were going behind his back about this, and yet he was still a kid. They couldn't ignore that. Saved their asses, sure he did. Smart and resourceful, definitely. But still a kid.

It was easy enough to forget. Both of them had swapped glances of surprise when him and his sister crashed the vampire party, when they'd stormed the Wendigo's hideout. That was high level stuff, stuff the Winchesters had been doing for years. Stuff that took guts. What made these two so different than any other kids the Winchester's had met? They had no clue; it was all secrets with the Pines and their Mystery Shack.

So that's what this excursion was for.

It was time to uproot those secrets. Everything in Gravity Falls could not remain behind a curtain if Dean and Sam were going to understand just what was going on.

What was the obsession with the journals? Why were there three? What was up with gathering of monsters from the Winchester's side of creepy? Who was Grant, really? A shapeshifter? Why was there tension between the Stan twins? What was inside the journals that was so important, so valuable that Dipper didn't trust them to see it? Even Mabel was in on it.

To be fair, the brothers had their own secrets. Castiel. Lucifer. Michael. The entire Heaven and Hell fight, honestly. Bobby. Their father. Also, to be fair, in what universe did you tell any of that to children? They'd had to give some of it up thanks to Gabriel which had been unfortunate indeed. Otherwise, their lips were sealed.

Gravity Falls was a case to crack. And dammit, they were going to crack it wide open if it was the last thing they did.

Rise up gather round
Rock this place to the ground
Burn it up, let's go for broke
Watch the night go up in smoke
Rock on Rock on
Drive me crazier, no serenade
No fire brigade, just pyromania (c'mon)

The older Winchester eased off the gas pedal, shut off his music and turned the keys, dropping them in his pocket with a sigh. "You ready to dig this up, Sammy?" He stepped out, arm resting on his baby's roof.

Sam laughed and exited the black 67', adjusting red his plaid shirt. "Of course I am. Are you? You're usually not one for research. Ever. You feeling alright?

"I'm fine. I just . . . " He shook his head. "This doesn't make a lot of sense, you know? I get it; not much of our life makes sense. We hunt monsters. I'm supposed to be a vessel for heavens most badass fighter. Hell, you're supposed to be Lucifers vessel. What about that makes sense? I mean dude, I'm content doing what we do. I don't need any of that floating around in the back of my head."

"You and me both," Sam agreed. They moved to an area with a rundown, classic wooden picnic table. One of its benches overgrown with moss, the other splintered in half. Dean sat on the table while Sam dropped the journal on it with a musty thud.

Dean leaned back, gaze impassive. "But the thing is, we agreed we weren't leaving until we figured out what's going on here. It's not right. It's just not. You gave me a few days and granted, it's been longer than that-"

"No, Dean, I think you're right. I was fairly skeptical about this feeling you had, but with the Pines not telling us everything and that outright trap laid for us by the Vamps, something is definitely below the surface on this one." Sam patted Dean's shoulder and sat down on the table next to him. "Let's uncover what we need to, save their asses and get a hold of Bobby."

"Sounds good."

Quietly, pages flipping and eyes narrowing, the Winchester's found information on all sorts of things that seemed completely Gravity Falls territory. Gnomes, Bat Eyeballs, Ghosts. The longer they went on, though, the weirder it got.

"Shapeshifter?" Sam mumbled, curious. "That's our deal. Theirs seems to have the original form of a gory white bug, instead. Huh."

"Yeah and look here. You know that Island Head that eats people and attacked Rain Marlin? Here it is. Kids must've encountered that, too." Dean squinted, staring at the drawings. He changed the subject. "Sam, why the hell won't the demons let them leave, though? That's what I want to know. They were supposed to head back to California weeks ago. Are they bait for us or something?"

A sigh. "Not sure. I'm as clueless as you on that. I feel like there's two forces at work, here. One from our line of work, and one from theirs. But everything I see in this journal is mild. Not even close to being powerful enough to have some 'master plan' that would lure us here, distract us with monsters and then strike us down."

Suddenly, the wind in the forest blew up, roaring through the trees and striking the pages of the book with such force the the book flipped over, as though it were somehow . . . insulted. Sam and Dean turned, looking into the woods. It was sometime in the afternoon, so it seemed strange that the breeze ripping into their secluded spot was chilly, icy and cold when just moments earlier it had been fairly warm. The air seemed to freeze, sending a crawling fear up their spines. Above, the clouds that had been white now seemed darker, more ominous and looming with preemptive destruction or unforeseeable tragedies to come. Sam picked up the book, glancing at Dean warily and uprighting it, found a triangle with one eye meeting his gaze. "Hey," he said, the odd sensation creeping further up his back, "what do you think this is? Bill Cipher? Ever heard of him?"

He stared at it, the odd feeling in his chest tightening. Something about it bugged him, just like everything else in the town. The all seeing eye, the blood touching the corner of the page with unforgiving stains; it was radiating a malice that none of the other pages did. He looked into the woods again, then back at Sam. "Nope. Whatever he is, its bad news. Too bad Dipper won't talk about any of this crap. If we had someone willing to tell us, then we would know for sure."

Psychotic laughter filled their ears. "Ahahahahahahahahaha!"

Sam and Dean leaped to their feet, instantly on high alert. Before they could make any move toward the Impala's trunk or simply blink, what must've been fog began spread at the edges of the cars tires and spread and spread until it covered everything in its ugly, bland, greyness.

Except it wasn't fog. It was something else. A strange, probably only Gravity Falls native paranormal happening. They were about to relax when a round rock to their left blinked, a single line appearing, blue bricks drawing to it like a magnet. There was a an electric crackle and before them, yellow and with a mysteriously strange villain vibe, was the same triangle that they had seen in the book moments earlier. More laughter, dark and vicious.

"Heheheheh. You called, boys?"

Dean shifted, appearing to be unperturbed. In reality, he was very confused, very disturbed and extremely uneasy. "We didn't, actually. Do you mind?"

"Snarky. I like you, Dean." The being, (if he could be called that), floated over to the pair, tipping his hat to the older Winchester, then the younger. "You, on the other hand . . . you're a little boring Sam, but I suppose you'll be okay." Then he seemed to smile, his eye lighting up. "Say-"

Sam didn't let him finish. "I'll be okay? How do you know our names? What do you mean by that? And what exactly are you? What do you want?" He pinched his nose. "What about us seeing you in that journal makes it alright for you to just appear before our faces, doing-" -a gesture to the grey world around the trio- "Whatever the hell this is?"

"Oh, Sam. So many questions!" Another laugh. Less evil, lighter and pleasant. "But I suppose I can answer a few without too much backlash."

"Yeah," Dean interjected, frowning. "You'd better."

"Yeesh, boys, relax. I'm getting there! The name's Bill Cipher. I am the being who comes along when there's messes to clean up, aid to be delivered and questions to be answered! As for what I mean, well. That's classified." A yellow cane rose from his hand, and the triangle leaned on it, legs crossed. "As for what I want, that's hilarious! I get whatever I want, so, nothing! I'm only here to help, of course. I know your names because I'm always here, always listening. You said them yourselves moments ago, and you weren't exactly whispering. Not that that would help, but I digress."

What do you want, what do you want?
I want rock 'n' roll, yes I do
Long live rock 'n' roll
Oh let's go, let's strike a light
We're gonna blow like dynamite
I don't care if it takes all night
I gonna set this town alight, c'mon

Neither Winchester said anything as they were debating, weighing their options, and the triangle shrugged it off, filling the silence with ease, continuing to talk. "Geez, tough crowd! Point is, I can help you out. Just let me know, say my name, whatever. I was hoping we could figure something out while I was around but time is irrelevant! Be seeing you, boys, it was nice to have a chat."

He turned, clearly about to sputter off, when Dean broke the quiet, surprising Sam who shot him a warning look, of, Dean, what the hell? which Dean ignored. "Wait. If only here to help, then," he pointed to the journal, a smug feature filling his eyes, "why does this book say 'DO NOT SUMMON AT ALL COSTS!' ? Because that looks like a neon warning sign to me."

"Why, Dean, how kind of you to notice!" Instantly he was back, cane swinging through the grey tinted air. "That's a note from dear old Stanford. He and I are not on good terms. I showed him how to finish a formula, and what he got wasn't what he wanted. He blamed me, and now he thinks I'm evil! Such a shame."

Sam met Dean's eyes. They trusted Ford. He'd been willing and able with almost all of the hunts so far, with the exception of the Vampire hunt. But he hadn't told them anything, really. And he was so defensive. What Bill was telling them made sense.

"Say we believe you." Sam spoke this time, eyes still narrowed, suspicious, but listening. "Why would you help us? Say we do have questions-"

"Which you do."

"-that you can help us answer. Why? There's nothing in it for you."

Another unseen and yet very clear grin. The cane disappeared, his hand straightened his bow tie. He started to glow, bright white light that stung to stare at, light that shone and only got brighter, and brighter. "The only reward I need is seeing you prosper. Nothing in it for me; how foolish! But hey, good luck figuring it all out without me. 'Til next time, Winchesters!"

And the glow vanished. Bill was gone. The grey landscape was gone.

And the Winchester's were left standing at the edge of town without a single question answered.

-COMMERCIAL BREAK-
4:21 PM, Mystery Shack

What do you want, what do you want?
I want rock 'n' roll, alright
Long live rock 'n' roll

At the Mystery Shack, a crowd of people gathered inside for their tour. Grunkle Stan smiled wide, entered the room, and waved his eight-ball cane around. "Welcome, welcome!"

Everyone scuttled closer, their faces alight with excitement. One of them, someone in a clean red shirt and a deep, endless black tie edged nearer as well but slower. It was a methodical movement, a movement no one in particular noticed. He raised his head, blue eyes clear, scanning the room. The jacket around his frame was uncomfortable, a dark grey windbreaker type that he'd honestly throw away later.

As Stan moved the group into another room filled with positively ridiculous attractions, all fake and terribly composed, he tried to remain unreadable, his face dead set, mouth in a line.

God, this was going to be worth it but the process was so lengthy. So messy.

So he moved along with them, through the tour, tuning out the obnoxious voice that rained down on his parade for much too long. Finally, they reached the gift shop. The group spread out, each person reaching for a separately overpriced item. But he stood in the middle, reaching instead inside his pocket and drawing out a shiny object, the tip glinting in the afternoon sunlight pouring in the windows, almost obscured by the clouds assembling above.

He grinned, opposite hand shooting out and grabbing a passerby. Instantly, they were at his mercy, knife against their throat and he grinned wider, more menacing. "I do hope I have your attention, now, yes?"

The entire room froze, including Stan and Wendy who glanced at each other in fear and uncertainty.

"My name is not Grant, but you can call me that if it makes you feel better. And no, I am not part of the attraction; put your camera down, idiot. Unless you all cooperate, this person is going to die. You don't want that on you consciences, do you? No, of course not. You're all fairly moral people I assume." His eyes lit up, a red pool appearing within them, seething, sneering, screaming for attention. "So," he said, "anyone know where the three journals are?"

Not a soul spoke, perhaps out of complete and utter fear, but also perhaps because they didn't know. He sighed, pointed to Stan. "I'm not stupid. I know you know, but your silence proves your resistance. Enjoy thinking about this for years to come, old man."

He moved the knife in the flash, blood pouring, draining, bubbling down the now dead persons clothes and on Grant as well but he didn't mind. He loved to watch Stan's reaction instead, fear replaced by horror. "See here," Stan started to lash out, but 'Grant' cut him off, almost literally by snatching another poor, useless captive who squirmed and cried out but he raised the knife to their neck and they shut up too.

"Wrong answer." He said quietly. "Let's try again. Where are the journals? Better yet, where's you niece and nephew, hmm? I want to see their faces again. So innocent and pure, standing up against the big bad world."

Stan steeled his jaw, eyes angry. He replied stiffly, fists clenched. Slowly, he said, with a overload of sadness already tainting his voice, "Don't kill anyone else, and I'll tell you. My brother has them, I can get him to bring them out. He's only just downstairs. If we - we can take this outside-"

"Wrong again!" Grant crowed, slicing the throat without a second thought, watching Stan wince and hearing stifled screams. "One more time, Grunkle Stan. Where. Are. The. Journals?"

----
5:09 PM, Inside the Living Room of the Shack

Rock of ages, rock of ages
Still rollin', keep a-rollin'
Rock of ages, rock of ages
Still rollin', rock'n'rollin'
We got the power, got the glory
Just say you need it and if you need it
Say yeah
Heh heh heh heh
Now listen to me

Dipper pulled out his journal, opening to the first page and seconds later, his calm countenance extinguished and he jumped to his feet, shocked.

"What?" He said to himself, and flipped a few more pages; maybe he was hallucinating. No, he wasn't. This wasn't his journal. Someone had replaced his journal and stolen the real one! Pausing, he read the entries and stopped at a handwritten note that fell to the floor. He picked it up, reading.

Dear Dipper,
Sorry that we had to do this, but in order to clear Gravity Falls, in order to leave it a job well done, we had to borrow it. Here's a replica with some entries from our journal.
See you soon,
Sam and Dean.

He wasn't upset, not Dipper. The journal meant a lot to him, yes, but Sam and Dean did too. They'd take care of it, right? They were correct, of course. He hadn't been willing to share his previous experiences but that was to keep everyone safe. Still, taking his journal and replacing it with an elaborate copy was a bit much. He sighed. He'd probably have a lot of explaining to do. With the rift at stake, now really wasn't the time.

He moved to find Mabel and she arrived around the corner instead, breathless. She yanked him toward her and dragged him towards the Gift Shop without an explanation.

"Mabel! What-?" He said, trying to slow her down, grabbing at door frames. It worked, and she halted but immediately shushed him.

"Dipper! There's something wrong. I heard a scream in the Gift Shop, and the door is locked. I tried to peak inside but the blinds are closed! Grunkle Stan was supposed to finish a tour or something and I'm worried! Where's Great Uncle Ford?"

He gaped at her. "You heard a scream?"

She nodded.

"Grab your grappling hook, sis. Looks like it's up to us again. Let's see what's happening." Another nod and she rushed away. Reaching behind his Grunkle's favourite chair, he pulled out a machete.

"Knew this would be useful," he muttered.

----
5:36 PM, Gift Shop

I'm burnin', burnin', I got the fever
I know for sure, there ain't no cure
So feel it, don't fight it, go with the flow
Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme one more for the road

Three dead bodies. Grunkle Stan grappling with Grant. Wendy cheering him on. People huddled in fear and hope. Twins bursting into the Gift Shop, guns blazing.

And then Grant dealt a crushing blow to Stan's chest and Stan staggered back, clutching his frame uneasily as blood rushed out. Not deadly, but it stung. The evil laughed at him, mocking. "Oh? Giving up already with a scratch like that, old man? Humans are so fragile, aren't they? Sorry, I forget sometimes."

A pause.

"Uh oh, kids, I wouldn't," he sang. He spun on the twins who were about to challenge him and jerked Stan to his side instantly, as the man had let down his guard briefly due to his wound. "Gashes to the neck are so unfortunate."

They screeched to a stop, emotionally wounded. They couldn't attack. Not with Stan like that. Both eyed the vending machine, praying, wishing, hoping beyond hope that Ford would hear the ruckus and appear.

"One last time, or he dies. If you think I'm bluffing, ask the redhead." Wendy shook her head, motioning silently to the twins. Grant snarled. "Drop your weapons." They dropped with a clatter, hollow, hopeless. "Good." His voice softened to a whisper, threatening, unpredictable. "So nice to see you again, kids. Remember me? I saved your sorry hides when that Wendigo was about to munch on your guts. You owe me. In exchange for your great uncle, you give me the journals. Fair trade, wouldn't you say? I'd take it, if I were you."

Dipper's jaw dropped. "Bill?"

Grant laughed, hacking and coughing with pleasure at their confusion. "Not quite, I'm afraid! But he does say hello, Pinetree."

With a roar, Dipper threw himself at Grant, drawing the machete from the floor. "Don't call me that!"

Grant tossed Stan to the side, and stuck a hand out at Dipper, who felt a pushing force on his body and then he was flying through the air, crashing against the wall.

"Such bravery, for one so small." The demon got in his face, smiling maliciously. He lifted the knife to Dipper's ear. "Scared now?"

What do you want?
What do you want?
I want rock 'n' roll, You betcha
Long live rock 'n' roll

That's when Grant tipped his head.

The door opened with a slam, two figures bursting in, knife and guns raised. Their eyes were full of fire, flickering, raging, glistening. They ushered the people out before words were exchanged and then then shut the door. Voices low, dangerous, they entered the fight. Hope was reborn.

"Pines. Grant." Dean acknowledged. "We're not interrupting something, are we?"

Rock of ages, rock of ages
Still rollin', keep a-rollin'
Rock of ages, rock of ages
Still rollin', rock'n'rollin'
We got the power, got the glory
Just say you need it and if you need it
Say yeah
Say yeah
We're gonna burn this damn place down
Down to the ground
Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh

"Ah, the Winchesters. No, in fact, we were just getting started."

-CREDITS-

______________________
A/N:

CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON

THERE'LL BE PEACE WHEN YOU ARE DONE

LAY YOUR WEARY HEAD TO REST

DON'T YOU CRY NO MORE

so yeah I've literally been dead I moved schools I'm taking three AP classes and biking between the two places I take the classes and waking up at 5:30 every morning so I'm so sorry for this wait but like I actually actually have an excuse please forgive I tried

Love you guys

Thanks for sticking around

BUT ANYWAYS YEAH GUESS WHOS COMING AND BILL IS HERE HOPE YOU LOVED THAT LIKE I PLANNED THAT FOR MONTHS AND WRITING IT WAS A WHOLE NOTHER MATTER HOLY SMOKES AND I LOVED EVERY MOMENT AHHH

Right, anyways, I put my soul into this and I'm sorry the perspectives changed a bit but it was necessary. I hope it was good.  Did Bill sound right? I can literally hear the voice in my head as I write so I mean it should be legit haha.

So! Here's the bit where if you liked this chapter, if you're ready for Dean to call for an angel, if you're ready for more Bill, please vote, comment and share! If greatly appreciate it and the feedback I get is super encouraging.

{Song of the Chapter: Rock of Ages by Del Leppard - I mean, if that wasn't obvious. (Thanks, SPN I'm obsessed with rock n roll and a heavy drinker is my role model ayo.)}

Have yourselves a good day, but above all, let's go and kill some evil jerks, shall we?
Styx