You adjusted the mic taped to your cheek, its skin tone nearly matching your own. You still weren't sure as to why you volunteered to be director for Mabel's so called "Sock Opera," but it was the least you could do for her after all the kindness she'd shown you. You pushed a button on the earpiece and winced as the static filled your hearing.

"Mabel, we're on in five, do we have a reverend yet?!"

"Dipper offered to just now, everything should be fine!"

You sighed from your spot backstage. At least something was going right today. Bill had been MIA for a week now, and you couldn't say you hadn't missed him. It was an odd feeling to have your mind back to yourself, and you weren't sure if you liked it that way. At least with Bill you were never truly alone.

"Good, get onstage as soon as you can, the curtain's about to rise!" You motioned to Grenda on stage crew, gesturing for her to start the play.

"The show is about to begin! Please, turn off your cell phones! Unless you're texting me, cuties!"

You rolled your eyes at her less-than-subtle flirting. Mabel burst through the side door and climbed up to her position just as the curtains parted. That was too close.

Candy dramatically hit a note on the keyboard, starting the production off with an electronic vibe. "Gather round, and let us sing about a girl who had almost everything..."

A breath you didn't know you were holding escaped you as you watched the play go on without a hitch. It was extremely satisfying to see all the hard work pay off, even if you didn't agree with her motives. You had to shake your head to stop subconsciously glaring at the blonde puppet boy in the audience.

Before too long, Grenda called out the intermission, giving you and Mabel a much needed break. You collapsed on the foldable chair as she sprinted to a dressing room backstage. Note to self: never volunteer as a director again. This was exhausting. It was over much too quickly, and soon you had resumed you place backstage.

Suddenly, it struck you that Dipper probably had no idea what he was supposed to be doing as reverend. "Mabel, have you gone through your brother's part with him?"

Your request was only met with static. "Candy, Grenda, have either of you seen them?"

"I saw Mabel going up to grab the book prop a few minutes ago, you might want to check that out."

"Can you take over for me for a second, please? They can't be late for their scene."

You ran silently backstage, careful not to make a sound in your dress shoes. After hurtling up the stairs, you were relieved to see the only problem was Dipper having trouble getting the book from inside the cake. He kept on letting it slip for a few seconds before pulling it back up again.

"Dipper, your scene's next."

He completely ignored your warning and continued to pull up the plywood cake, only to let it slip out of his grasp again. His face slowly stretched into a morbid smile. "How's about you hand that book over?"

Mabel's voice cut through the electronic music of her show. "No way, this is Dipper's! I'd never give it away!"

You froze, the back of your neck tingling. Something wasn't right. Dipper's movements were jerky, uncontrolled, like he wasn't used to a body. 

"Hmm, you didn't seem to have a problem taking it for your own play, ditching him when he needed you." Dipper's unblinking eyes latched onto Mabel's, and the world seemed to tilt on its side as you finally connected the dots. The slightly yellowed eyes. His awkward movements. Even his laugh.

"Bill," you whispered.

He turned his head suddenly to meet your gaze, getting Mabel drop another ten feet. His clammy fingers curled around the rope. "Y/N." Dipper's face remained expressionless, showing no signs of its puppeteer.

Your hands shook, but you refused to let yourself show fear. "I'm not going to ask how you got out of my mindscape, I'm not going to ask why you've been silent, but leave Dipper out of this."

He tapped a finger to his forehead. "But why would I do that when I could easily destroy the one thing standing in my way?"

He slyly looked at Mabel down below, and for the first time you noticed the journal she held to her chest. Your breath hitched. "You lied. There's more to that book than you said."

"Perhaps." Bill carefully pulled the rope up bit by bit, not breaking eye contact. His sight fell towards your arm, the bandages covering the raw burns. He slowly shook his head. "I hope you'll forgive me for this."

Without warning, he grabbed your arm and pinned you against the thin railing, the weak supports shaking. "Bill, what the hell?!"

He leaned over the edge, making it even harder to balance on the ledge. "Give me the journal or she dies!" Mabel glanced up at me guiltily, already regretting her decision. She released a sigh as she looked away, hesitantly giving in. Bill's eyes glinted gleefully as he carefully reached for its red binding, a grin already forming on his face. "That's what I thought."

As soon as he grabbed the book, Mabel narrowed her eyes. "Not today, triangular asshole."

She yanked backwards with enough force to pull both you and Bill-Dipper over the edge. After a terrifying moment of weightlessness, all three of you crashed down to the stage below. Mabel desperately handed you the journal. "Run!"

You had only made it a few steps before Dipper's razor fingernails dug into your injured arm, making you gasp in pain. Without thinking, you swiftly punched your attacker in the mouth, wincing as you remembered Dipper would have to deal with any damage you did to his body. Guess you'd have to play nice.

Bill laughed eerily, not bothering to wipe away the blood dripping from his lip. "You won't be able to beat me if you value your friend's life!"

"Wanna bet?" you growled. Impulsively, you lunged at Bill, ready to tackle him, when you went through him.

Suddenly, the world faded to black and white as you entered the mindscape, but the color returned almost immediately. You felt... different, but you couldn't place your finger on it. Everything felt clunky and jerky, like a rusted machine. Your body ached all over, and cuts wreathed your arms up and down. You sucked in a breath when you looked down at your clothing: the reverend outfit. You were in Dipper's body.

His spiritual form waved at you frantically from the mindscape, coming at you full speed. You raised your arms - his arms - in a futile attempt to protect yourself, but it did nothing as you were knocked out of his form.

Your soul tumbled ungracefully out of his mind and into the monochrome mindscape. You held out your arms to steady yourself, but lost your focus when you saw your right arm. The lightning scars were glowing a bright white, just as they did when you learned to control the blue flames. You wanted to lose what little self control you had and scream like an idiot, but you spotted Bill's own misty form only two feet from you, his own burns emitting a harsh glow.

His already pale face whitened another five shades when he saw you in the mindscape. "Y/N!"

"Bill! What's going on-"

"There's no time! Without a spirit inhabiting it, your body will die and we'll both be stuck here for all eternity!"

Gritting your teeth, you dived into your own body, relieved when the world regained its color. Dipper struggled to get up on his own, the cat-like slits in his eyes gone. Mabel helped get him to his feet as the speechless crowd only watched, completely clueless to half of the events that happened. You stretched your fingers, awed and grateful to be in your own body. As the audience stood up to attack the cast with jeers, you felt a migraine coming on, threatening to split your head in two.

"Bill," you whispered, "You have a shit ton of explaining to do."