Two days after Pyronica dragged him to the throne room, Dipper lay sideways on his bed with his head hanging off of it so that he was looking at everything upside-down.

It really didn't make anything look much different.

Dipper blinked slowly as he let his arms dangle, his fingertips lightly touching the cool floor.

If he was correct, it was his birthday today. His and Mabel's.

Exactly a week ago, Mabel was proudly showing him her plans for the future.

A week ago, Ford offered to train him to be his apprentice and to homeschool him.

A week ago, Bill Cipher smashed the rift on the ground and started Weirdmageddon.

A lot can happen in a week.

He just hoped that even though Dipper hadn't done anything relating to their deal yet that Bill was still keeping his family and friends safe.

Dipper also hadn't slept all week either, even though every crazy event had Dipper dragging his weight on his feet. He could practically feel the heavy bags under his eyes.

Light caught the corner of his eye. He turned his head from where it was hanging to a bright yellow light that announced Bill's presence at his open door.

Ugh, B—

"Ugh, Bill," Bill sneered and cackled.

Dipper groaned and sat upright, giving him an immediate head rush. He winced when he said, "Stop reading my thoughts! It's creepy."

Bill gave him an unamused look. "Hello? Dream demon? It's literally in my job description, kid," he said and continued further into his room. "Love what you've done with the place."

Dipper didn't do anything to the place.

"Oh, so the teeth aren't yours?"

Dipper grimaced in confusion—and glared at Bill for reading his thoughts again—before glancing at the top of his empty dresser, which did in fact, had a jar of teeth sitting on the top of it, undisturbed.

"God, Bill, why," He perched himself at the end of his bed. "Why are you here?"

Bill blinked. "To invite you to a dinner with the others, of course. What, you thought we wouldn't do something for your birthday?" Bill tsk'd. "For shame, Pine Tree. Thinking so little of me."

Dipper glared.

Bill held up his arms as if he was protecting his eye. "Jeez, Pine Tree! Enough with the death glare, I can't take it," he lowered them and sighed. "In all seriousness, you are coming down to the throne room with me now. I have a special something planned. Think of it as a birthday gift."

"I don't want anything from you."

"Oh, but Pine Tree," Bill said, inching closer, his eye filled with fake cheer. "It has to do with our deal. So unless you don't want your family to be safe..." He shrugged to drive the point home.

Dipper gulped. "Fine," he said. "Let me put my shoes on and I'll be good to go."

___

There was a table set in the throne room. Why, he didn't know, when they could all just stand. The different sizes of the henchmaniacs would make it uncomfortable. He didn't know why Bill would make them sit there especially during a chaotic apocalypse where he allowed them to do whatever the hell they wanted.

He stopped trying making sense of Bill Cipher weeks ago.

He took a seat next to Pyronica anyway. She smiled cheerily at him, ruffled his hair since he was nervously fiddling his hat in his hands, and she went back to talking to the demon on the other side of her. There wasn't anything on the table and it had a similar build and aesthetic like all the other little amount of furniture in the Fearamid: unnatural purple-black brick with glowing rainbow in between. He hated it, even though he could admit it was pleasing to look at.

"Ting ting," Bill said aloud, clinking a knife against his martini glass a few times to gather everyone's attention. "Attention, I have an announcement! It's PT's thirteenth birthday. He is a little Dipper no longer. And to celebrate," he said, now turning his gaze over to Dipper, brandished out a free arm like he was showing off a new show-stopping exhibit, "I am making the honorific offer to turn sweet Pine Tree into a henchmaniac demon!"

Dipper barely noticed the henchmaniacs around him cheered and celebrated. His blood ran cold and rushed in his ears at the same time. He couldn't move.

Finally, when he felt like he had a sure foothold on reality, he said, "No." The henchmaniacs didn't hear him but at the corner of his eye, he saw Bill stiffen.

Turning human to demon? Turning into something else? Dipper couldn't fathom it. He wouldn't allow that. Doing something like that was permanent, right?

But as he kept trying to rationalize with himself, the more he thought he was being silly.

He would still be the same, right? But with powers like the other henchmaniacs. That was basically it.

No.

He lifted his head and met Bill's gaze challengingly.

Bill made the martini glass disappear. Dipper shivered. He shivered not because of Bill's expression, but because Bill didn't have an expression at all. He was awfully blank. Usually, his limited features held some sort of emotion; whether it would be blood-red anger, smug confidence, ungodly cheer, maybe even selfish fear. But there was nothing and that bothered the life out of Dipper. His conscience told him to run and not look back.

"Did I say the word offer?" Bill inquired, words clipped. "Oops, my bad. I meant that I am making you into a demon, for our deal. So that things will remain easy. Besides," he summoned blue fire in his hand, "we wouldn't want your family to be in danger and eaten by the horrible monsters lurking out and about out there, now do we?"

The henchmaniac demons quieted around him.

Dipper gulped.

He stood up, the legs of his chair making a scraping noise as it was pushed back. "I need some time alone," he said, aiming for the large hallway.

Down the stairs he went and while the floor the throne room was on's "grout" was twining purple, blue, green, and blue, the bottom floor grout of the Fearamid was warm with red, orange, and yellow, much like the cracks in Dipper's room at the tip of the Fearamid. He ignored the lingering, leering henchmaniacs he passed.

Dipper stopped in front of a large opening. Inside, he could see tons and tons of books. It must be some kind of library or something. He didn't think of the possibility of this being some top-secret catacomb-like place he wasn't allowed to visit, but he just reveled in the fact that he now had something to do. Besides, Bill never said anything about not visiting places in the Fearamid. Just that he couldn't get out.

At last some place to make his stay more bearable.

From where he was leaning against the pillar, he drank in what he could see. It was fairly dark, but the light from the hallway made do. There were dark shelves from floor to ceiling, a mezzanine floor cutting it in half. There were rows and rows of shelves including against the walls and more on the floor above. There were places to sit and desks in the open spaces. He could see posts where he supposed light would go.

"Hey, kid!"

Dipper jumped and turned around, noticing a henchmaniac he distinctly remembered being called Kryptos. "Um, yeah?" Was he actually not supposed to be there? He hoped he didn't have to fight. He was running on days with no sleep whatsoever. He was all noodle anyway.

"You need the lights on," the blue henchmaniac asked, stepping next to him. This close, Dipper noted that the navy-blue demon resembled a masonic compass—he remembered reading upon the symbol for a certain secret society in one of Ford's other journals—and snapped his gloved fingers. Immediately, the light posts lit up, encasing the library in light. "There you go!" He then turned and went away.

Dipper blinked in surprise. He expected that he'd have to complete a quest or beg or something. Oh well, the lights were on.

He walked inside to the nearest shelf and opened up a random book. Of course, it was written in symbols he couldn't understand. He huffed a breath. What did he expect? He flipped through it instead—there were no pictures that would help him understand what the book was about somehow. He just gave up and put it back. There had to be a book at least in English in there somewhere.

He went from shelf to shelf and climbed the stairs to the mezzanine floor that encircled the room. It was all in those symbols.

He paused his sifting when he heard those whispers again. He had to strain to hear them. He shook his head—it was a henchmaniac messing with him again.

He blinked and the world around him turned grayscale.

Heart jumping, he blinked again and everything was normal and in color.

Then he noticed Bill next to him.

Dipper scowled. Now he wanted the unexpected grayscale and voices. Anything but Bill. He still wanted more time to himself.

He turned away and jerked yet another book he couldn't understand off its spot on a shelf turned away from Bill.

But of course, Bill persisted. "You already know what will end up happening, Pine Tree, right?" Bill said from behind him. As a matter of fact, Dipper did know. He just wanted to put it off as long as possible, as long as he could stay human and the same and normal. He pushed away the thought.

"You can't run away from this."

"I know."

"You know what, I'll even sweeten the deal," Bill asserted, coming closer to be beside Dipper. He didn't lift his eyes from the book. He just couldn't meet Bill's single eye right now. "I'll teach you this language, along with teaching you magic."

Dipper bit his lip.

Turning into a demon for the safety of his family, for magic, for learning another language. Considering all this, Dipper couldn't help but get the feeling that Bill somehow desperately needed him. He shook the thought away.

He slammed the book shut. "Fine."

He looked Bill in the eye. If the evil demon had a face, he would be beaming. The image of Bill possessing him the day of Mabel's sock opera play plagued his mind. Every time Dipper thought about it, he could feel sore facial muscles from all the grinning, his hands broken and bleeding from the needless stabbing with forks. Pain is hilarious, Bill had said.

Would Dipper be able to feel pain again after shaking Bill's hand yet another time?

He didn't have much of a choice, did he?

Without looking away from Bill's gaze, Dipper reached out and took his hand.

The world went black.