"Hey, where's Bell?" Stanley asked, flipping a pancake from the stove. Dipper shrugged while Mabel lit up. "She said she's feeling tired today. I guess she hasn't gotten a lot of sleep since she got here. So she's going to sleep for the rest of the day or try at least."

"Well maybe that means we can have a calm Saturday for once," Dipper mumbled just as a large explosion sounded from outside the shack. "Aaand I was wrong." Dipper shoveled a mouthful of pancake into his mouth before racing his sister to the front porch (she won as per usual).

Outside, they found their Great Uncle Ford with soot covering his face and a smoking object in his hands. "Oh, hey kids." He wiped some of the soot off with his glove, which was covered in even more soot and was not very effective. "I was just testing something out and it worked, so I'll go back to the basement now," Ford said awkwardly. "Great Uncle Ford, do you think you might be able to help me with something?" Dipper asked. Ford smiled and nodded. "Depends on what it is. If it has to do with girls or bugs I can't help you there. I'm allergic to both." Mabel smacked his arm and said overly loudly, "Oh, Grunkle Ford, you kidder."

Dipper cleared his throat. "Well, Bell has been having trouble sleeping is all. And I was wondering if you might be able to help," Dipper asked. "Oh, sure. Has she tried herbal tea? Or any drugs from the pharmacy to help her sleep?" The twins grimaced as he said the word 'drugs.' Must've been an old-people thing. "Not that I know of. Maybe we could go ask her?" Dipper said uncertainly. "Of course. I'm actually a bit curious now," Ford commented.

"She sleeps in Grunkle Stan's room now though and we're not allowed in there," Mabel said.

"I'm pretty sure he has hidden cameras all over the place or something because he always knows whenever anyone goes near his room," Dipper shivered. "I'm sure he won't mind. But what I'm a little more concerned with is why she's sleeping in his room. Aren't there plenty of other rooms in the shack?" Ford asked. Mabel shrugged. "They've gotten kinda close and she trusts him maybe a little more than she should. And Grunkle Stan says she doesn't like sleeping alone."

"She told me that she gets nightmares and Stan 'has more sense than the lot of you.'" He gave finger quotes before continuing. "Then proceeded to talk about how she wouldn't want to be within 50 feet of any of us in that condition, but she unfortunately has no choice. And they apparently made some sort of pact."

"A pact?" Ford asked. "Yeah. They didn't tell us much about it though." Ford rubbed his chin in thought. "Well, let's see if we can do anything about her sleeping issue," For said, trekking off toward Stan's room. The twins followed along and as Ford opened the door to Stan's room and nothing happened, they breathed out a collective sigh of relief.

"Go away," Bill's exhausted voice sounded from the room. "Bell, we wanted to see if there was anything we could do to help you with your sleeping problem. Oh, and Ford's here too." The group squeezed into the room and Bill peeked his head out from the mound of blankets he was practically drowning in. "It's no use if I'm just going to wake up a couple hours later," Bill complained.

"Well I'm not a psychiatrist, but as far as I know people who are plagued with nightmares tend to oftentimes be suffering from other mental problems, such as anxiety, depression, PTSD, or all three. And most times pinpointing those mental illnesses and treating them helps get rid of those nightmares. Perhaps the weirdness magnetism here may also be affecting your mental health. Anyone who stays here for a long period of time tends to leave with a couple malfunctions in their brains. No offense." He turned to the twins who both shrugged.

"None taken."

"I've been better."

Bill shifted around underneath the pile of blankets. "Back home I never actually got treated for anything, but I did have to stay in a mental hospital for a couple weeks 'cuz people thought something was wrong with me," Bill said timidly. Ford nodded. "Of anything I think you might have PTSD or bipolar disorder. Although, bipolar disorder can have periods of serious depression and anxiety. And there is such a thing as bipolar depression. But you seem a bit upbeat for that sort of thing. From some of my observations, you've seemed to have some bipolar-worthy mood swings, as well as some signs of PTSD. I could be wrong though. I have spent an awful lot of time in the basement so I haven't been able to properly observe you in your natural habitat." Bill's eyebrows scrunched up and he chuckled. "You're talking like as if I'm some sort of wild animal, Sixer."

Something in Ford's face changed at that, but he ignored the usage of the nickname, choosing to take it as the young girl picking up habits from Stanley.

"Perhaps later we could take you to a psychiatrist that might be able to help find the proper medication that might help you sleep and maybe make you feel better in general?" Ford suggested. Bill shook his head. "I don't wanna. I like myself the way I am, thank you very much. I'm not going to go take a bunch of pills that'll upset my personality. I'll live. Sorry for wasting your precious time," He crawled back under the blankets.

"Wait. What if we could ask the psychiatrist to just do something about the nightmares. Nothing else," Ford asked. "Great Uncle Ford-" Dipper started before Ford shushed him.

"Let me think about it," Bill said underneath the pile of blankets, clearly not ready to leave his small shelter again. "Okay," Ford said kindly, shooing everyone out the door and shutting it behind them.

"Great Uncle Ford, psychiatric treatment doesn't work like that. If they find anything aside from the nightmares is wrong then they'll prescribe her with something for that. You can't just ask them to focus on sleep issues, especially if it's connected to something else," Dipper said. "Ah, well she doesn't know that." Ford continued walking down the hall without the twp twins, who suddenly seemed a bit antsy about their Great Uncle Ford.

"So I've thought about it and no." The group at the table seemed a little stunned by this outburst (and the fact that Bill was actually out of bed). "I don't want to do it because even if it will help me sleep, human medicines always have their drawbacks and I don't want that. Plus I've already been taking those pain pills for my period. And I don't like feeling weak, so I'm not gonna do it. I can survive without it. Just gotta get used to it," Bill explained.

"You sure, Bell?" Stanford asked. "Yep." Bill grabbed a plate and some food from the counter and sat at the table with it. "Kid, you might just consider having tea. There's this thing called Valerian. You can go out and find some Valerian plants out in the woods, then put the roots in some hot water, steep for 15 minutes, and strain it into another cup. In about half an hour to two hours, you'll be knocked right out. It's strong enough that you won't wake up once during the night," Grunkle Stan interjected.

Bill perked up. "Really? Does it have negative effects? Like mood changes or whatever?" Stan tapped his chin in thought, but Ford answered for him. "I believe it can cause headaches, an upset stomach, thinking problems, dry mouth, excitement or uneasiness, strange dreams, or daytime drowsiness. Although I wouldn't worry about it since they usually aren't very potent or existent in most people who use Valerian root to cure any illnesses."

"Besides kid, you already have some crazy mood swings without it!" Stan joked. "M'kay. Maybe tomorrow we could go looking for that Valerian root," Bill yawned.

Dipper regretted ever having agreed to this. "C'mon Dipdot, just grab the stick," Mabel shouted from a safe spot outside the pit of quicksand that Dipper was now stuck in (while he contemplated why on earth there was quicksand in the middle of the woods and how they'd never noticed it before, Mabel had taken to finding large sticks to get to him, but had thus far not gotten anywhere close to him). Well at least he'd found the Valerian root. It was probably having a great time soaking up the mud in his backpack. His head just barely poked out of the mud, but he'd taken to slowly leaning back and floating more at the surface. "Sis, I can't reach it."

"You're not even trying, brobro," Mabel complained. "If I move too much I'll start sinking again," Dipper replied. "Fine." Dipper saw Mabel leave again out of the corner of his eye and stared at the sky, sighing in exasperation. Suddenly he got wacked in the face with the thick piece of wood. He grabbed the wood and tugged it out of Mabel's hands and let it sink into the mud. "Whoops."

Mabel glared at him. "It's like you don't even want to get out." Dipper shrugged as much as he could. "Not with you hitting me in the face with sticks on purpose." Mabel gasped. "I would never. Besides, you're gonna drown or something if you don't get out of there."

"Actually the human body is less dense than quicksand, which is denser than water. So I could easily float on top of this crap for hours or even days without drowning," Dipper corrected her. "Plus so long as I don't flail around, it'd be pretty impossible for me to drown. Mostly because of my density."

Bill had taken off his shoes and sat at the edge of the puddle of quicksand with his feet soaking in the mud for no apparent reason (probably because he didn't want to help Mabel look for sticks). "Well, I mean you still have your backpack on and that's pretty dense, so I dunno if you'd actually last that long. Let alone a couple hours," Bill commented idly. Dipper's eyes shot wide. "I totally forgot about that. That's supposed to be the first thing you do, discarding your stuff," He groaned. "Sis, do you think you could maybe hurry it up with that giant stick you've been looking for?" Mabel groaned. "I thought you didn't want to get out?" She teased.

"Well I do now!" Dipper flailed his arms, before stopping as he started to sink again. Bill laughed at him. "Stop struggling. You're just gonna kill yourself faster." Dipper shuddered, thinking about when Bill had tried to kill him/his sister/his family/everyone in Gravity Falls. "Y'know Bill, by the time I get out of here, your root's probably going to have already dissolved into tea." Bill shrugged. "We'll find another then." Dipper turned his head to glare at him. "I'm not going to go traipsing around the woods looking for your root again covered in this crap."

"Sucks for you," Bill replied, kicking up the mud and splashing some of it on Dipper's face. "Jerk," Dipper muttered, flipping the bird. "Right back at ya' buddy," Bill answered just as Mabel returned with another stick and slapped the end of it into the mud mere inches from Dipper's face. Dipper immediately grabbed onto the branch and pulled himself toward the shore and purposely kicking mud all over Bill, who mustered an offended gasp. "I am disgusted. I am revolted. I dedicate my entire life to our lord and savior, Jesus Christ, and this is the thanks I get." Bill slumped back, hitting his head on the root of a tree and shooting back up with a yelp, rubbing the back of his head. Dipper laughed at him and stood up, soaked in mud.

"Hey, sis. Come over here and give me a hug," Dipper stretched out his arms and lunged for Mabel, who dodged him and the two of them started running around in circles after/away from each other. Bill continued to sit, content with just letting the twins do whatever they wanted (and possibly hoping one of them made a misstep and fall into the quicksand again). Dipper finally and miraculously managed to catch Mabel, giving her a big, muddy hug. "That's for soaking me the other day."

"That was like a week ago, brobro."

"It was two days ago." Dipper answered, looking as if he had no comprehension of how Mabel could mix up two days with a week.

"Same, same." She waved him off.

"No, it is not same, same," Dipper argued. "There's a five-day difference."

"Chill, Pinetree. Stop being such a stick in the mud." Bill took the stick Dipper had used to get out of the quicksand and shoved it into the quicksand, giving emphasis to his previous sentence. Dipper kicked Bill in the thigh with a muddy sneaker and Bill sarcastically swooned. "You really know how to get the ladies, kid."

Bill laughed as Dipper turned red and kicked him again hard enough to make Bill wince.

Bill suddenly perked up again. "Hey, did you know that some female spiders eat their mates? That's something I can get behind. I should've been reborn as a spider. Even better as an Archaeidae, also known as an assassin spider. Those things prey on other species of spiders," Bill mused. Dipper sighed in exasperation. "I can't see why living only a couple years would be a nice proposition."

"That's because you're simple-minded, kid. I mean, being such an on-top predator that you ate your mates just because you could, that's what I call goals. Plus there's different types of spiders that eat their young and eat their mothers. That's pretty awesome. And that's coming from a demon that's almost gotten eaten multiple times." He jerked a thumb toward himself as if he was proud of the fact that he'd almost been eaten before (multiple times). "Dude, what the hell?" Dipper frowned, clearly not too amused by this spectacle.

"What? It's true." Bill shrugged. "Anyways, you should probably check on that Valerian root and see if it dissolved while you were taking a mud bath over there." Dipper shrugged off his backpack and pulled the limp root out of his bag as well as a soaked journal that he'd brought along. "Aw, man. At least the root is fine though, I guess."