Chapter Text
Bill awoke on the ground, his senses messed up, wrong. He could feel, and don’t get him wrong -he could definitely feel before!- but the way he was feeling wasn’t the same as before. It wasn’t even the same strange-feeling he had tolerated in the cube for millions of years while alive-dead. It was new, unique, something never before experienced by him.
It was utterly disgusting and revolting, he was feeling too much new at once, he could see more than he ever could before. Staring up at the blue, blue skies being held up by the trees, by his trees.
Why couldn’t he see out of his trees? He couldn’t see any of the extra places he had been-
Okay, first matters first. His eyes. He compelled his hand to touch his face, and the movement alone was very odd and rigidity, different from the fluid and simple motion he had lived for all of eternity-
In just a second, Bill quickly learned how to roll over, and puked up his insides, a weak yell escaping from his lungs in between the burning acid that streamed out.
His face was wrong- wrong wrong wrong wrong- it felt different, bad. He had- Skin?? Skin!!! He felt himself getting sicker, and then proceeded to watch himself get sicker. Normally, his vomit doesn’t look like this either. Oh, and don’t even get him started on his fleshy new hands he had the displeasure to stare at while in tormenting mental and physical agony.
He saw bright locks move around and fall into view, contrasting against his darker skin, and it took him far too long to realize that was hair, his hair. He had hair now?! Why the fuck did he have hair now?!?!
After a few hours, he was able to grow accustomed to the disgusting skin suit he had nonconsensually borne, and made his way to slowly stand up. God, it was so much different, so much more tolerable, easier, so much everything better when he simply possessed somebody. He could feel the difference, sense it all, it wasn’t just possession.
He was alive in this stupid sack.
He looked down at himself, and -sheesh!- honestly, this form was a real piece of work. He was definitely shorter than most humans he had possessed, though thankfully not Pines’ height. He might’ve ended it all if he found himself stuck forever in a puberty ridden body. He shivered at the thought, not literally of course he doesn’t actually shiver- oh, would you look at that. He did actually shiver, he forgot humans could do that. Gross.
Bill grabbed onto a birch tree, cursing and calling it every name under the sun -his personal favorite at the moment being “You no-good, traitorous, backstabbing, scum ”- as he managed to slowly rise up and stand on the two slants of legs he owned. Wow! This body needed nutrients. He sure wasn’t going to do that.
Thankfully so, as the moment he properly arose the sky darkened around, his mind fading in and out as all he could hear were buzzes. The trees stopped blowing, the world around turning to shades of pink and bright purple, as the Axolotl spoke.
Bill was left alone again, as he looked down at himself, guessing he should probably gather a good look of what ‘he’ looked like now. Thankfully, he had clothes on, that itself would have been a doozy to find and put on. He didn’t quite know how to dress himself the best, though in his defense, usually a formal dressing simply involved his best looking bow tie and his seduction top hat. He missed that hat. He should really make another one.
He had on a disheveled and slightly torn oversized t-shirt that looked eerily similar to something stitched heart would wear, and was definitely something he’d need to replace soon, along with a pair of brown shorts. No wonder the ground felt weird, he realized, it was because his feet were touching them directly.
Dirt and mud felt oddly weird but relaxing, patches of grass and sticks down below as he started his walk through the woods. He needed a drink, and maybe something to eat, if his weird new gut was anything to go off of. But more importantly, alcohol, that damned Theraprism wasn’t allowed to give him any when he needed it the most.
Bill looked more like a baby deer learning its first steps in the beginning, but like a deer quickly adjusted and became semi-decent at walking mindlessly through the woods. Did this hick town even have a bar? Was that a thing it owned? He didn’t remember, not like human alcohol used to be able to intoxicate him. Would it even be able to intoxicate him still ? ..It wasn’t like he could get “I’m Fine Juice”s anywhere in this universe, so it was worth a shot regardless.
He made his way into the town, glaring around while he kept walking through the area. A few steps in, and he stepped in front of a store window, seeing a proper glance of himself reflected back. He paused his walking, standing in front of it and observing his form.
It was … odd, certainly. He had a lighter blonde hair that reached his back, accompanied by streaks and strings of light gray and white blending in. His face too, it was slightly wrinkled around his eyes and mouth, though the rest of him left relatively untouched. It contrasted how this body felt entirely. While older flesh bags typically felt like they could break down at any moment, his felt regenerative, alive, as though still easily and quickly fixing itself up.
Well, he thought, at least he wasn’t hideous as far as meat-standards go. He turned fully around, walking along the concrete paths in the town. Bill turned his head to the left, looking for a bar through his poor inferior human vision -
When from his right he was hit with a large weight, as he felt his fragile body immediately get thrown and tumble to the ground a few feet away. The concrete rubbed his skin practically raw, along with the horrible shirt he now absolutely had to replace and - huh. No, arms aren't supposed to bend that way until after Bill bent them that way.
“Oh- shit, I hit something-” Came from the hunk of junk that smacked the hell out of Bill and- ..wait, that voice-
“Grunkle Stan, you just hit a person-!” Just Bill’s damned luck.
“Stan hit what ?!” He needed a drink after this, or he’d end it all without a second thought.
⏮✩⭑❣⭑✩⭑𓁿⭑✩⭑❣⭑✩⏭
Chapter 1: One Eyed ex-King
—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—
A door slammed open, and then another, and then a third , and footsteps quickly came over to Bill’s sad corpse.
“...Look kids, he’s just sleeping! It’s fine, let's just give him a hundred and-”
“We have to take him somewhere! There's a hospital around, right?!” Shooting Star was barely tolerable when she wasn't chaotic, Bill was learning that much from this encounter, at least. He would've been happier to never have it to begin with, though. Not at least while he lacked powers, anyway.
“We don't really have that, and lawsuits are expensive. So is gas. Look, he’s fine. There's no witnesses, he didn't even know he got hit! He was probably gone when we got here-”
“I need a fucking drink.” Bill grumbled, letting his inferior eyes open as he was forced to look upon the Pines family. After a second, he wondered if they had recognized his voice, but that had to be impossible. Sure, this human form sounded a bit like Bill, which is better than nothing, but speaking through his new vocal chords wasn't the same as speaking with his soul.
“He's alive! Are you there?! Dipper, do CPR-!” Shooting Star yelled.
“What?! No!” Pine Tree yelled back, “Doesn't Ford know some medical knowledge? We could take him back to the Mystery Shack.”
And then the Inferior. Bill looked at him with all the disgust he deserved, as he seemed to look back at Bill with. “How about we get you fixed up at the Shack, and I’ll give you a beer and you forget all about this. Deal?”
Bill wanted to strangle him, dismember him, chop him up and serve him on a plate only to dumb it in a burning fire, but-
They’d bring him to the Mystery Shack? To Ford? To his portal ?
“Sounds like a deal!” Bill happily said, after all, the pain was starting to feel as giddy and fun as he felt inside.
After a few sad attempts to get up, Bill managed to, sitting himself in the Pines murderous vehicle, and sadly in the front seat. Right next to Stanley Stanley STANLEY STANLEY -
Bill felt his body shaking from the pure anger and rage he held, and paused. He took in a deep breath, repeating that a few times before glancing out the window of the murder machine, and thought about what it would feel like to strangle Stanley to death.
Sure, the ( shitty ) therapists never told him to do the second part with the first, but it certainly worked like a charm!
Soon the Mystery Shack approached after Bill had to endure listening to children constantly bugging the hell out of him, such stupid questions! “Why did you hop into the middle of the road?” “What's your name?” “What's up with your hair?! I love it!” “What like ... gender are you exactly -” “You don't just ask someone that, Dipper! .. Can I braid your hair?”
Bill managed to stumble himself out, not embarrassing himself too much with his newly acquired legs, and body, and tolerating gravity. And with the guidance of planned-murder, Inferior led him deeper into the Shack and into the living room, gesturing for him to sit on the couch.
Right, friendly gestures and all. Bill was built for tolerating these, being a master of acting, disguise. They’d never know anything was up, they obviously think this guy is just a regular ol’ schmuck already! He confidently walked over to the couch, sitting right on the arm of it comfortably. After all, being above anyone else on furniture just secretes superiority and dominance.
Which is why he didn't understand why he got a look from the Pines family. Probably jealousy, he shrugged, lounging back. “What a place you got here! Mysterious, even!”
“I’m going down to get Ford, you kids deal with smartass here.” Stanley grumbled, moving away.
“Swear jar!” Shooting star yelled as he left, before quickly running up to Bill, bouncing in her feet. “Welcome to the Mystery Shack! Sorry my Great Uncle Stan hit you, but maybe it was destiny! Or fate! You seem weird! That's great!”
“Mabel, you remember the fact you're not supposed to talk to strangers -” Pine tree sighed out.
That was, until Shooting star smacked her hand over Pine tree’s mouth, “- SHH!! I just made an amazing rhyme! Mabel’s in the house to-nyme!”
“Mabel that’s not a word-” Pine tree grumbled, moving her hand off his mouth, before glaring at Bill. It took him far too long to notice the kid’s glaring, he was spaced off oddly enough. For some reason. What did the therapists’ always say every time that happened? He didn’t really remember, now that he thinks about it. Shucks! “Where are you from, anyways? Definitely not from here.”
Bill squinted his eyes at the kid ... why did he look oddly suspicious of him? It’s not like he was recognizable, his beautifully triangular form was a dream of the past. “What do you mean? I’m very human!”
“...I meant what town.” Pine tree deadpanned, grabbing the back of Shooting star’s sweater and whispering something in her ear, causing her to now glare at him.
Ugh, how annoying. “What? Something you shits want to say-” He grumbled out, his head suddenly darting over as two pairs of footsteps were heard coming in, and-
Stanford. There he was. Right there. Like nothing had ever happened since Weirdmageddon. And even before then, most that had changed were just the man wrinkling a bit and getting grayer. Except now he looked healthier, slightly ... happier ?
Bill didn’t like the way his insides churned happily at that. Was this a human thing? Definitely had to be a human thing, he glared at his newly human stomach for betraying him, before looking back at the man now approaching him.
“Yep, here he is. Hit him with the ol’ Stan’o-ville and everything-” Stanley said nonchalantly, and as Bill looked back at Stanley he felt all the rage, all the hate, everything those sad therapists tried to ‘talk to him’ about and ‘discuss emotions’ to get rid of and-
Stanford immediately grabbed Pine tree and Shooting star back behind him, and pulled out a gun. He aimed it right at Bill’s forehead, causing the ex-triangle to freeze up subconsciously. How human was his body? His arm did seem still messed up, did he even regenerate? Could he die?
“-Ford, what the-” Stanley began,
“ Bill. ” Stanford finally spoke, his voice full of menace as he looked directly into Bill’s eyes. The rest of the Pines’ family’s eyes widened, before Stanley walked in front of the twins as well, pulling out a pair of brass knuckles.
Bill was utterly pissed Stanford knew immediately who he was, instead of showing the slight and very annoying human-like fear his body felt, he threw his arms up into the air.
“What the hell! How! Literally - How!” He gestured to Stanford, and then back to himself. “Do I look like a triangle? Am I a triangle? No! I’m some weird- fucking, fleshy thing and you see that and go ‘Bill Cipher?!’”
Stanford glared at him, “Your eyes became red when looking at Stan.”
..They did ? “I kept that of all things? I’m killing that fucking Axolotl-!” Bill yelled, dramatically throwing himself back onto the couch, grumbling. “- Ohh, nooo, Bill, you have to ask for helppp, and be a gross fleshy-bag, but I’ll make sure your eyes change! Who knows what other weird and useless things I kepttt! ”
“..Axolotl?” Shooting Star asked, looking slightly too overjoyed. “And it talks ?!” Definitely too overjoyed.
“Wait ... Do you not have your powers?” Pine tree mumbled to himself, tapping his chin slightly.
Stanford didn’t stand down though, “Don’t trust him, kids. That Axolotl is an ancient deity you shouldn’t inter-”
“Oh, we’ve met it before.” Pine Tree interrupted, Shooting star nodding along.
“I wanted to pet it!”
“..I’ll ask about that later.” Stanford sighed out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Bill, what are you doing back in this dimension?”
“Or better yet, how are you alive?” Stanley interrupted, crossing his arms.
Bill (sadly) tore his eyes off of Stanford, and back at his worse clone instead. “Why are you still alive, inferior?” He rolled his eye, and then remembered he had two of those now, and rolled the other as well for good measure. “You know, Stanford is just everything better than you will ever b-”
A loud shot rang out, and the cushion beside Bill’s head suddenly had a new hole in it, Stanford’s gun smoking slightly as Bill’s eyes widened.
“What brings you here, Bill. ” Stanford said in a far too dangerous voice for Bill’s liking, and he suddenly felt a very animalistic fear of death.
It reminded him of his last moments in Stanley’s mind, the fire, the smoke. It reminded him of his last moments on his planet, watching the chaos, his actions, everything done-
And the room suddenly became very dark, shaking as he could hear Shooting star and Pine tree’s screams, and since when was Bill sitting up on the couch? Why were his hands in his hair, and why was he curled up? It felt gross, and vulnerable, but he couldn’t stop to think about it. The screams just made it all feel vivid again, it was all there again.
He liberated them. He liberated them. He liberated them he liberated them he liberated themheliberatedthemheliberatedthem heliberatedthemheliberatedthemheliber -
He killed them. He killed them all he killed his family his home everything destroyed and gone, Billy slaughtered them in cold-
-
Two large figures slowly wobbled their way through the dark folds of the walls, peeling it up as if it were posters instead of a physical object. Ford kept his gun held on Bill, but stared at the figures, holding the kids close with Stan. The figures walked over to Bill, their forms fading in and out of reality. One lacked a head, colors flowing out instead as the other had a mushroom form, the latter calmly walking over to him. They grabbed ahold of Bill’s shoulder, Bill not moving an inch.
Bill looked up at them, slowly, as they grabbed something from their pockets and handed it to Bill. He stared at it, then back at them for another moment.
Bill took it from their hands, and put it in his mouth, swallowing it. The shadows stopped, and the world around them returned to normal. Except for the figures.
“..Who the hell are you?” Stan yelled out at them, earning the two’s attention.
The colorful one raised his hand up, the colors flowing around. “Greetings, Pines family. Apologies for the interruption and intrusion into your reality. Patient #323322 unfortunately left before receiving his medication!” He clapped his hands together, tilting his neck to the side. “We understand the worry and confusion this can cause, and so we made sure to track him down and arrive just in time to make that smile come out!”
“I hope your children get boiled alive, Vastil.” Bill grumbled out, “And your Raptor-dog.”
“Please don’t say that about Steve! He’s a good boy.” Vastil said in just as cheery of a voice as before.
“Are you with the axolotl?” Mabel said with wonder, being held back by the entire rest of her family.
The mushroom turned to address them after placing an unreadable and clear bright purple bottle on the end table beside Bill. “Yes and no. We’re from Dimension #5150, from the Theraprism. The Axolotl however did refer Bill to us, and he made great progress while within our care. Here’s our card if you or a loved one needs special care.” They said, handing out a card to each Pines family member.
The cards were all entirely unreadable to the family, and the images alone were mildly disturbing to everyone except Ford, who promptly took them from the rest of their hands.
“Theraprism? Like therapy?” Dipper asked, raising an eyebrow. “He was locked away in therapy. Why not a prison? He tried to murder us!”
Bill let out a very forced laugh, sounding more pained than anything else as he laid himself back on the couch, dangling his legs off the arm. “Oh, don’t worry! It was! And besides, Pine tree, I only tried to really kill you once!”
“Bill.” The mushroom turned at Bill, potentially glaring, though the lack of a seemable eye made that difficult to tell.
“What are you going to do, huh? You can’t send me back! Hahahaha- Thank the frilly man upstairs for something !”
Ford lowered his gun for the time being, putting it back in his coat and looking at the three others. “..The Axolotl? I saw pictures and cults for it in the multiverse, but assumed it was just a religious figure.”
Bill had a small smile on his lips, snickering and kicking his legs along. “Sixer, oh , never change!”
Vastil spoke up again, “While this must all stay very classified, I can explain a few things before our time runs out.” He clapped again, standing straight back up. “The Axolotl is a very powerful entity within the dimensions, a higher power than any of your minds can comprehend!” Vastil should not have sounded as cheery as he did saying that. “The Axolotl also loves helping us with our therapy and rehabilitation, and often refers to us special, special cases that need lots of love and attention!”
“Vastil, I will find your mouth in that primary colored hellhole where you lack a brain and rip it out!” Bill spat, poking his broken arm still facing very many wrong ways.
“Your attitude is very negative! What have we told you about being positive, Bill?! Let’s try a hug.”
“The second you try and touch me I will go feral again!”
“Wow, I don’t have enough tranquilizers for that! Let’s try again another day.” Vastil declared, clapping before looking at his wrist, where he lacked a watch. “Well, it looks like Debbie and I need to go. It was lovely meeting you all, just give us a call if Bill acts up mentally while here!”
“Assuming old ‘Ax doesn’t do it for us.” Debbie said.
They gave the family a wave, before the walls shifted again, the two conversing in a language no one else seemed to understand before they shifted out of reality once more, the area returning to normal again.
-
“...Therapy, huh, Bill ?” Ford began, “And what exactly brings you here, looking like that.”
Bill groaned, kicking the couch again out of pure annoyance. Causing him to unexpectedly throw himself off the couch and land right on his broken arm, as pain soared through his nerves.
Oh, oh. It had been far too long since Bill got to feel this. He could almost see a few winces from the Pines family, but he had no idea why. Pain like this? Human pain? It felt the best, it was amazing. The feeling, the amount his physical form reacted to the neurological stimulation and sensory input was incredible, and one of the only few things he actively liked about humans!
He let out a laugh, followed by another, before quickly stumbling himself up and sitting on the couch again. He proceeded to purposefully throw himself off again, laughing more. “This is fun ! Wow! You know, maybe that frilly guy didn’t make too much of a mistake when h-”
Bill was cut off short from both his sentence and throwing himself off the couch again by Ford grabbing ahold of the back of his shirt. He got thrown back onto the couch, and felt a very cold object suddenly pressed against his temple. Looking up, he could see Ford’s gun, and suddenly the pain mixed with a new sickly feeling inside of his gut.
“Answer. The. Question.”
Bill would absolutely never listen as easily as he was considering currently, but his mortal body, everything, and the fear was dying about as much as his heart rate - quickly accelerating at extreme speeds. But actually being weaker? Listening to Sixer ? Sure, he had changed a little bit, but this was Sixer.
Sixer then proceeded to make a show of turning the safety off, and now Bill’s head was starting to get blurry. Stupid nerves betrayed him. “Hahh- You know, fun! Great fun, fun all around!”
Shockingly, Shooting star of all people came up behind Ford, crossing her arms. “Great Uncle Ford, step back, I got this.”
“Mabel, this is Bill, let the adults-”
“Nope, nuh-uh-uh. I’m about to be 14, I’m very much an adult-” Not even in an alternate universe would that be true, Bill would know, “ And I’m the actual emotions expert here!”
Oh god.
Stanford must have seen the pure horror on his face, because he stepped back and let Shooting star take control, and horrible, horrible things were about to happen. Bill was at least 50% sure the Earth was about to open up and swallow this entire town whole, which shockingly wasn’t as statistically improbable as one might suspect.
“Bill! Mabel here, you can call me Dr. May-May instead to get you more comfy-”
“No. Not in a million years.”
“-I think someone needs a sweater!” She declared, snapping her fingers. And when nothing happened, she turned around. “Dipper, I need my sweater bag-”
“Mabel, that’s like 50 pounds.” He argued, but after an intense staring contest, he seemed to be the declared loser. He walked out of the shack, returning back after a minute dragging a comically large bag with multiple different colored sweater sleeves sticking out.
Shooting star grabbed the bag instantly, unzipping it and sorting through. Stanley looked proud of her, Ford looked amused, and Pine tree looked murderous (he barely looked like he could kill a twig though, and Bill’s mortal body wasn’t that weak.)
Finally, she seemed to find something suitable for the occasion, pulling out a hot pink sweater and shoving it over Bill’s head, and down his torso before the man could even process what was happening, let alone fight it.
He glared down at the object, reading the words stitched on. ‘Lez discuss feelingz!’
“Now, I think I just saw you have a panic attack a few minutes ago! What was up with that, huh? ‘Lez’ talk about it!!”
Bill had never thought he could wish for the Theraprism again, but suddenly, Vastill wasn’t the worst person in existence. This small, tiny, and brightly colored monster was, and he wished for the Axolotl to become as dry and shriveled up as a raisin.