The next evening, you sat at the table, the dusty red journal opened before you. Dipper and Mabel had left earlier that morning in hopes of finding the author from the laptop, but you weren't all too interested in joining them, considering you already knew his identity from the events in Stan's mindscape. You knew the journals contained powerful secrets, but something more as well: Bill's dark history with the Pines.

You heard him sigh from the back of your head. Doll... you're not going to like what you see.

I'd be surprised if I was, you murmured through your thoughts. You held a yellowed page, fighting to keep it steady in your trembling hand. But I can't keep following orders in the dark anymore. I-I need to decide for myself if you're the monster the time travelers say you are.

You forced down your hesitancy and opened the book, fingers tracing over words penned long ago. This was it. From what you could tell, Stan's brother needed help with a secret project and had hit a road block in his research. It looked like all his work was a dead end, until a muse offered to give him inspiration.

You paused your reading, a knot of dread settling in your stomach. Why did he call you a muse? Aren't you some type of demon?

My kind are neither, princess. Your people call us whatever suits them. Demons, muses, prophets, angels, even gods. There used to be hundreds like us, immortal reality warpers, but all that remain are trapped in Nirvana. He paused, struggling to find the right words before giving up. Keep reading, he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

After a moment's pause, you continued onwards, wondering what had affected him so badly about it. There had to be more to this tale than he let on. Stanford had been drastically falling behind, even with help from his "muse," causing him to enlist two partners. Your breath hitched. If you could find one of the people he worked with, you could get a firsthand account!

Bill, where are his partners now?! You hastily squinted at the first name to decipher the fancy script. Fiddleford McGuckett? You exasperatedly pointed at a drawing of an anxious young man, his glasses halfway down his large nose.

Doll, Fiddleford is still in Gravity Falls, he mumbled, voice laced with remorse. But he's... not the same as he once was. He used to be a brilliant mathematician, but he's been reduced to a husk. Working with Stanford drove him to insanity. He's a dead end.

Gritting your teeth, you tore your mind away from the tragic subject and read the second name. What happened to Esperanza? You spoke quietly, not truly willing to know the truth. The sketch depicted a young Hispanic woman with large circular glasses. Your eyes were drawn to her left wrist, where her arm suddenly ended and connected to a robotic hand. She looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn't place where you'd seen her before.

Bill spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. Esperanza Noches, now that's a name I haven't heard in many years...

What did you do to her?!

Bill said nothing, his silence suffocating you.

You hurriedly attempted to flip the tattered page, but your hand stayed in the same position, wrinkling the paper where it refused to let go. You panicked for a quarter of a second, then remembered who you were sharing your mind with, surprise melting into anger. Bill, you growled, give me control of my hand back.

Princess-!

That was not a request, Bill! You are NEVER allowed to posses any part of me, ever. Now surrender your power, or I swear on my life I will make training literal hell for you tonight.

Your hand gave a small spasm, almost like a miniature seizure, before dropping to it's original place. A strong electric shock shot through your arm, and you wasted no time flipping to the next page. The horror you felt beforehand was nothing compared to the paralyzing reality. The entire page was covered in black ink, with morbid messages scrawled over in red.

MY MUSE WAS A MONSTER

THE TEST FAILED

F WAS RIGHT

ESPERANZA IS GONE

You slammed the book shut, mind spinning. You stood up, chair clattering to the ground as you sprinted to your room. Of course, that did little to rid the monster plaguing your thoughts. As quickly as you ran from the room, Bill pulled you into your mindscape, the memories swirling in a violent wind you could not feel.

Bill's golden eye pleaded desperately with you. "Y/N, I tried to warn you!"

"Damn it, Bill!" You screamed, shaking with jumbled emotions. Anger, betrayal, and raw hurt radiated off your body in waves. "First Dipper, and now this! When will it end, Bill? When will it be enough for you?"

"Don't you see it's not about me, Y/N?! I have to look out for my friends in Nirvana! I do these things because I can't let them die! Why can't you see I'm running out of chances to save their lives!"

You couldn't care less about the tears streaming out of your eyes as you clenched your jaw in rage. "So that makes it alright to posses an innocent? To drive Fiddleford to insanity? Don't bullshit me here, were you going to kill Dipper when you were done with him?!"

The question caught him off guard, mouth forming an 'o.' It took only a moment for him to regain his icy composure. His eye focused on the ground, refusing to meet your glare. "I would've done what I had to do."

With those words, you knew Bill carried no guilt for what he'd done in the past. The last string of hope within you shattered, along with the remains of your heart. To think you had grown to care for, to protect, to love this demon who mocked you with his impassiveness. "Go."

He jerked his head up. "What?!"

"I mean leave. Exit. Never return to my mindscape. I don't care if you're bound to me, find another mortal to be your puppet!"

"Y/N-!" He stretched out his hands in exasperation, desperately trying to get you to stop. Bill's flawless face pleaded with yours to calm down, 

"Just go already. You've done enough damage." You turned your back and let a lone teardrop travel down your cheek, making no effort to stop it as it fell to floor.

Slowly, your mind went silent, free from any noise from Bill or otherwise. Unable to act strong anymore, you fell to your knees and let yourself sob. There was no point denying the truth any longer.

You loved an immortal chaos god, and it was going to get you killed.