A/N:

A very angry ravage, Nope. And it very well could. But you don't want me to spoil everything, do you?

Loopy Leefy, Thank you so much for the compliment. Looking forward to more of your replies. If you can stand my update-rate.

Anonymous. Mister Anonymous, I'm glad you like the story. Your kind words have been very encouraging. I hope you don't mind me leaving some stuff in the dark.

Question. If anyone has any of the codes deciphered. Let me know. I have fun putting them in. It'd be cool to know someone cracked them.

Gravity falls: Red moon

Chapter 5: Catastrophe imminent

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"You fella's are certain that mean breeze won't be firin' up again, ain't ya?" Gideon complained somewhere far behind the rest of them.

The rest of them being the wonder twins and Pacifica Northwest herself. They did their best to plow ahead through the thick blanket of fresh snow. The outskirts of the city would be just around the hill. And once they'd made it from the abandoned salt-factory to the hangar for her family's plane, they'd unanimously decided it'd be faster to walk back than to have to dig out the half-a-meter of snow so the limousine could get through.

And with only one shovel anyways, that was something for the hired help to amuse himself with. Claude could have the car back at the new Northwest manor by nightfall, he promised. But no sooner. It'd take him almost all day to dig to the main road which Old man Mcgucket's automatized sweeping units kept clean and traversable.

With some luck he'd even be able to dock the airplane back into the hangar. And if he went to work on it with a baseball-bat or a tire-iron… All her problems would be solved.

Well… Almost all of them.

Trailing just behind her was Mabel. But with impressive speed for a (technically a) teenager with such short legs, Dipper strode far ahead. His temper clearly foul.

Tugging her winter's dress up and pushing forward to follow his footsteps as he continued through the clearing in the woods, up to the distant main road, she called out to him. He didn't look back. But that didn't stop her. She honestly wondered what it was that had gotten him in this mood. It clearly wasn't just his drive to get back to Gravity Falls anymore.

"Dipper!" She yelled across the white plains. "Wait up!" She continued, ignoring Gideon's cowardly question. "You're going to fast for the rest of us."

It was only because the wind carried it to her, but she thought she heard him grumble.

"What's that?!" She shouted, trying to beat the wind.

"Then keep up!" He sounded cross.

"Look!" She tried, hoping to bury whatever resentment this was. "I don't know what gotten into you..."

He stopped. Allowed them to catch up. She was glad she didn't have to force her voice anymore.

When they'd caught up, mere tens of yards from the main road, she felt a lot more like herself. With some regained authority, especially in contrast to the Gleefull kid's panting, she asked him: "What's wrong?" Why are you acting like jerk all of a sudden? If this is you entering puberty, Dipper, you could have left it at the camp. Seriously."

"You don't even know, do you?" He bit back. She felt searched for a reaction. He didn't seem to find it. "You honestly don't even know."

"What?!"

"You Pacifica." He sighed angrily. "Everytime you do something worthwhile… Everytime you get me to think you've changed… And then bam!" He smacked his fist into his palm.

"Then what did I do? Is this about my parent's salt mine? That is not my cross to bare, okay? I do not want to destroy Gravity Falls and it's surroundings." She was honestly getting a little ticked off about this.

"It's not about the salt mine!" He exasperated. "Well, okay, in a way it is! But not like that."

"You are, like, not making any sense at all." She crossed her arms.

He shook his head. "It's not even that big of a deal..." He argued. "Let's just go."

"Oh no." She retorted, wagging her finger menacingly and laying the sass on thick. "You are not getting off that easy."

"Yeah bro." Mabel added sheepishly. "What's the matter?"

"Fine. Remember what you said back at the Salt-mine? About your parents? You were so cross at them for getting away with their actions. It was inexcuseable to you. Just rich people using money to solve everything."

"Yeah… So?"

"And then, without a second thought, you ask your chauffeur to dang up the airplane and make it look like hooligans so your parents won't suspect what you've done and can focus on getting the insurance money back instead."

She was lost for words.

"Come on, bro..." Mabel tried. "That's not..."

"Just another Northwest stealing to fit their needs?"

The slap rang out across the field. Even with the ongoing wind. But, even as the shocked look settled on his face and the red on his cheek spread, she was grateful. For he stopped talking. And she couldn't hear another word of it. Perhaps because deep down she knew he was right.

His hand crept up gingerly to the sore spot. The surprise in his eyes clear now. Next to her, Gideon and Mabel had their gasps somewhere stuck in their throats. She'd almost be able to see them in their open mouths.

"I'm…" She started, surprised at herself. "I'm sorry…" She said. This entire thing had escalated so quickly. And honestly, now, she wished she could take it back.

"So am I." He spoke earnestly, rubbing the red. "It's just…" He tried, avoiding her eyes. But that was alright, she was doing the same to him. "I'm tired. And I just… Last time I saw you… And now… I don't want you to turn back into who you were. I know you don't."

"I don't." She admitted. "But I'm not yours to fix either."

"I know." He seemed embarrassed.

"I mean you guys… Well you guys know what you do. What you mean. That you're important..."

"D'aaaaaaw." Mabel clasped her hands together, her voice over dramatically sappy. Pacifica both hated and loved her for it.

"But you gotta trust me and have to let me grow on my terms, not yours." After a pause, a horrible, difficult pause, she continued. "And if you feel like I'm slipping, I want you guys to tell me. But… Don't judge me. You don't know what I've been through. Nor what it's like for me."

Even Mabel didn't try to lighten the mood now. So she guessed it was up to her to break the silence and get them back on track. Even if that wasn't her strongsuit.

"Besides..." She used a light tone of voice, hoping she sounded far from serious. "It's not like stealing from your insurance really is stealing after all."

"Wow." The twins spoke as one.

"What?" Gideon asked.

They eyed each-other, and then Mabel, knowing her brother felt the same, explained. "We just suddenly realize how much we miss our grunkle Stan."

She had to laugh.

They all did.

He walked her to the Northwest estate. But Wendy could tell the good doctor was not keen on following her in. As she drudged up the heavy stone stairs and fumbled in her pocked of the key, as the axe dragged along beside her, she said as much.

"Nein." The old man admitted, following her loyaly though. When she miss-aimed the key on the lock in a sleep-drunk mistake, he took it from her gently. "I want to go home. Feed my dog and sleep for a few hours. You should rest too." He warned. "I must go feed Pavlov. And do something about this terrible headache."

"Pavlov?" She yawned as he turned the key in the keyhole and turned it open.

"My dogs." The man explained.

She could barely keep her eyes open as she lead him in. "Dog." She corrected him absentmindedly. "Dogs is plural."

He seemed to bite his tongue for a second. But it barely registered with her. She had hardly any energy left after all the exploits of the past few hours, the lack of sleep and having moved past the adrenaline-high. And she needed every bit of it to go and have a look at Tambry. She needed to check if the girl was doing better by now. She couldn't be bother with a foreign drunkard's different social ques.

Van Hadeschant seemed to be reading her mind. "In any case..." He started. "I suppose I should first check up on our patient, ja?"

"Appreciate it." She acknowledged, tiredly waving him to use the master staircase in the impressive hall.

It didn't take the duo long to get to the guest room in which Tambry was housed. And while her heart seemed to stop for a micro-second as they pushed open the oak door, It proved unnecessary. Tambry and Robbie were still where they'd left them. Tambry asleep in the bed on her back. Robbie holding her hand, seated in a simple wooden chair next to the bed. Though now he too had fallen asleep. And he slumped over the unconscious girl.

Without any consideration, the doctor dropped his heavy bag. The thud was followed by one of her own as the ax slipped from her fingers and banged on the ground.

But she was glad to see that while Robbie shook up, flailing like a flamingo on cocaine, Tambry at least responded to the sound. Her head shook. And she mumbled something, once more. It was enough to get her hopes up.

"Wait… What… Who?" Her disoriented ex uttered, standing upright and posing to fight the world and nothing all at once. "Red?" He asked, as soon as he recognized her.

It was rare to not hear the accusations and anger in his voice.

"Did you fix this?" He continued.

And there it was.

"Perhaps." Van Hadeschant answered for her, pushing past her and towards Tambry. "Move aside boy." He ordered, as tired and out of patience as she felt.

"Boy?! Look here old man...!" Robbie started. She could tell when he was getting riled up.

So she grabbed him by the arm and tried to soothe him. "It's okay Robbie. Just let him do what he has to."

The old doctor hadn't even bothered to look over at the teenage boy. Instead his eyes were focused solely on Tambry. Even with his back turned to Wendy she could tell he was checking her pulse and pupils, amongst others. As well as the bandage on her neck. On the whole she guessed his grunts to be positive.

"So?" Wendy found herself asking. "How is she, doc?"

"Better." The man grunted, laying down the girl's arm gently. As he turned around he repeated himself. "Better."

"Alright!" She held her hand up high, awaiting a high-five. "Team 'Wendy The Vampire slayer' for the win, am I right?"

Either the doctor didn't understand the gesture. Or he feigned it really well. Somehow, she suspected the latter.

"You seriously going to leave me hanging, man?" She asked. "Robbie, you are seeing this, right?"

Van Hadeschant ignored her. "It is not clear if it's because the link is broken, or because of the transfusion and the rest. We must yet wait and see."

"I've been waiting and seeing all morning!" Robbie grumbled. "I want Tambry back right now."

Peering through his little round spectacles, Wendy saw the old man staring down her former boyfriend. His gaze, though not cruel, void of empathy.

"By all means." The doctor said, waving towards her unconscious friend. "Then make her better? Go on now. Show us what you'll do. I'm very keen to learn."

"You..." Robbie swallowed his words.

But to be fair, Wendy wouldn't have known what to say either.

"So what now?" Wendy asked, getting to the heart of the matter.

"You need to keep an eye on her. Here is my phone number." He said, giving her a card from his inner pocket. "Call me if there are any changes whatsoever in her condition. I will be back before nightfall. Don't be out by then."

"What are you going to do?" Robbie asked as the man reaffirmed his grip on his medicine bag.

"I have some business I must attend to." The doctor spoke sternly, striding past them both.

"And what is that?"

"Sleep off this goddamned hangover." The man said whilst opening the door and passing through it. "And feed my dogs." He added, disappearing into the hallway.

"Dog, dude! Singular is 'dog'!" Wendy shouted after him.

"I don't like that guy." Robbie mumbled to her, returning to his seat.

"While I tend to agree with you on this one, you don't like anyone Robbie."

"Oh, just shut up and sit with me."

You had to know him well, but she figured he'd liked that jab, just a little bit. Though, true to form, he'd never show it. So she simply pulled up a chair and sat herself down on the opposite side.

"I don't trust him neither." The young Valentino added in a sulking tone.

"See above." She sighed.

"You sure this is better than bringing her to the hospital?"

He was looking to her for confirmation. Truth be told, she didn't know. Not for sure. Though, as unlikeable as the doctor might prove. In the short time she'd met him, he did seem tor rise to the occasion where needed. He just faltered everywhere else. And besides, with what she'd seen tonight, it seemed like a normal hospital wasn't going to cut it in any case.

"I do." She lied. "You told her parents what I told you to say?"

"She felt like she was being followed. And thus she ran to me. And that she's fine now, but resting. Turns out it was all her imagination. She'll be sleeping over with you tonight."

"Good. They'll buy that. Tambry's parents aren't too invested. That gives us some time. The less people to meddle with this, the more of a chance we have of fixing this in time."

"That's why you called in the wonder twerps?" He asked sarcastically.

"That's different. You know why that is." She retorted. He didn't answer back, but instead just caressed Tambry's hand. "Anyways… I hope they get here soon." She added. "I'm afraid something might've gone wrong."

Robbie seemed unimpressed. "Huh." He uttered dismissively. "If they can make it out of the end of the world, I'm sure they'll pull through a trek one state over, Red. I'll say this much for the little brats; they are durable."

Trekking through the snow was argues work. And he'd had more than his fair share of it today. And yet, tucked in against the biting cold, Van Hadeschant plowed his way through. His head was swimming and he had to do his best to keep his walk on a straight line. It felt like, with every step he took, his loose brain banged into his skull, bruising it further.

On foot, in these conditions, it took him most of the morning still before he reached his home. Even with as early as he'd set out with the young Fraulein, the day was flying by fast. And it unnerved him. It had never been this easy. Never.

He didn't want to think everything was okay now. He knew the dangers of such a lax attitude. And all he had to do was remember the most beautiful face he'd ever seen: that was enough. Never again. He wouldn't allow it. He'd never let his guard down again.

The doctor's house was on the outskirts of the town. It had to be. The noise Pavlov tended to make attracted visitors. Visitors who'd be frightened of his dogs. Who wouldn't understand. Who'd dare take them away. Even now, as he neared the old villa, now resembling more of a ruin, Pavlov barked.

Poor mutt. Afraid to be abandoned.

The front door creaked as he opened it. And with great relief he dropped the heavy bag. Pavlov's loud barking stopped the moment he entered. And he was grateful for that. The loud noise was pure torture with this hangover.

He'd left the radio on. That helped sometimes. But, hearing it now, he could hardly blame the dogs for their ruckus.

The voice on the radio could, in the most kind of ways, still only be descrived as obnoxious. With all the problems with communication in and out of this town, due to the heavy storm, however, local broadcasts were all they had. But still, that man was irritating. "And so in conclusion…" The voice on the radio droned on. "According to our last reports since the snowfall made communication with the outside world utterly impossible, as well as to my own personal opinion on the matter, the united states government has started fining people that refer to soccer as football. This is America people, we have our kind of footbal. American Footbal. And if you like soccer that much, I ain't stopping you from getting out. We don't need your kind here anyways. This was Bodacious T with sports. Back to you Shandra."

'Bodacious T'… Gott… He hated this place. He hated it so much.

"Thank you, Bodacious T." A much more pleasant feminine voice took over.

He could hear Pavlov shuffle their feet and go back into it's basket. He'd take it out for a walk later, but as upset as it must've been with his sudden departure, it had to be dead tired. So instead he walked past the dimly lit salon on his left, and pushed all the way through the main hall into the kitchen.

"In other news…" The woman continued. "It seems like our sports anchor is going crazy from us being snowed in for two days now. And perhaps from his lack of access to his medication. We still have no word on our local police force, Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland. If anyone sees them, could they please tell them to get back to digging us out? This morning I woke up to Bodacious T standing over me, just staring. I don't honestly know how much more of this I can take."

He found two large cans of dog-food in the kitchen, in one of the chapped cupboards. Bits of paint fell down as he slammed it back shut. With more difficulty than he'd care to admit, he began opening the cans. Pavlov didn't stir. He'd eat only when he was certain Van Hadeschant would stay for a while. Besides. It'd want something more as well. Stubborn beasts.

"And now to weather with our stand-in weather man, because he got trapped in here with the rest of us, Tad Strange."

Van Hadeschant sighed audibly as he pulled the cork off a dark red. He found a hunk of two-days old bread on the counter and poured the contents off the bottle straight over it. He didn't care about the mess it made on the kitchen counter. Nor about it dripping over the cabinets and spilling onto the floor. He'd deal with that mess later.

"Thank you Shandra." A confident, calm and rather deep male voice took over. "Tad hates to be the bearer of bad news, Gravity Falls. But as a stand-in weather man, I suppose I heave my duties. While the Snowfall seems to have stopped again, for now, the forecast does not look all that a-okay. In fact, it may look like we won't be able to see the Celestial event during New Year's eve. Many of you have probably been looking forward to this. I know I have, but it would seem..."

Van Hadeschant turned off the radio on the kitchen's counter. He didn't need to hear this. If the celestial event didn't take place, it would be all the merrier. But somehow he knew it'd be unavoidable. What he needed now was rest, and quiet.

He grabbed the, now soggy, hunk of bread and kept the stinking cans of dogfood close to his chest. His knees wobbled as he poured the food unceremoniously into three bowls. Each of which said Pavlov.

"Frühstück!" He called out unsteadily before stumbling into the salon.

With one final effort, he threw the piece of wine-soaked bread at his dogs. His strength gave out as he fell face forward into a long sofa.

Pavlov didn't even look up or whimper. He could tell without looking. They'd gotten to know each-other well over these past few years. Too well to be surprised.

The couch, set messily in the middle of the room, was lumpy and old. But comfortable and familiar. Yet it did not banish the uneasy feeling he had. Something was coming. He could sense it. It's anger. Out there, somewhere. Preparing to strike. Something strong and dangerous. And he couldn't help but realize, he wasn't ready. Not this time.

Moaning and groaning and his nausea both growing and lulling him to sleep, he reached deep into his pocked and pulled out an old-time pocket-watch. It's silver glistened only in his mind's eye. The dark wouldn't allow it.

He opened the second compartment, showing him the picture. The reminder not to be lax.

"Mina." He breathed, as he had a ten thousand times before. And like ten thousand times before, his eyes grew misty before he closed them and fell asleep.

On all the walls, the bundles of garlic, bottles of holy water and oils and crosses loomed over him as he slept on the couch in the middle of a circle of salt. Keeping him safe from all the night had to throw at him.

Wendy shook awake and cursed herself. She was getting used to this by now. The drowsiness was still on her. She rubbed her face and looked over from a sleeping Robbie to her best friend, expecting to find her asleep still too.

Instead, her breath stalked in her throat.

"Hey." Tambry whispered weakly and softly. Her eyes uncharacteristically interested in her surroundings. It was a look Wendy hadn't seen for years.

"Thanks." She continued her whisper.

Wendy took her friends hand in her own and felt the girl's pulse, strong enough now, running through her own hands.

"Don't..." Wendy whispered back. Whispered. Not because she wanted to spare her or Robbie. But because she couldn't get over the frog in her throat. "Don't thank me." She continued. "I should have been there earlier."

"You got me out." Tambry's eyes were growing misty. "You came through." The girl's fingers squeezed Wendy's, softly but surely.

"Hey man..." Wendy asked, wiping away a single tear of relief. "You need anything, or are you good?"

Her friend seemed to consider this for a second. "… Water." She concluded. "Could you get me some?" Her voice croaked.

"Yeah, sure dude." Wendy said, getting up and feeling the weight drop from her shoulders.

"It's just… I'm so thirsty. … Very."

"It's cool. I'll be right back. You just wait here."

"Like..." Tambry said, resting her eyes. "Not going anywhere girl."

Wendy needed to take one last look before going through the door. In it, as she watched her friend rest, the lack of light from outside dawned on her. It had to not yet be dusk. But it was getting close. Of course, in these parts of Oregon, in winter, dusk came fairly fast. Though she wondered just how long she'd been asleep. Would she find Van Hadeschant downstairs? He had to be back by now.

Deciding not to waste anymore time, she headed down the hall. And then down the stairs. The kitchen, where she could find a glass of water, was as good a place as any to start her search for the melancholic medic.

Along the way to the kitchens, located at the back of the mansion, she called out his name. Yet he didn't respond. Moving through the big, empty rooms was a bit disturbing, to say the least. Definitely with all that had transpired in the last 24 hours or so. The ominous feeling that something was wrong, was something she couldn't shake. And with the sun setting with every second, her feelings of dread rose.

When she heard murmuring and other unintelligible conversation going on from behind the brightly lit kitchen, behind the glazed windowed door. Her worries subsided some. Obviously the old man had returned and was looking for more garlic or communion wine or holy sauerkraut or whatever; chewing out the kitchen's staff.

"Yo, doc." She called out loudly, planning on informing him of the state of his patient, as she swung open the double-door.

What she found, once again, made her breath freeze. If only for a second. And to be fair. It seemed to do the same to the two occupants of the kitchen.

Later, she would not be able to say who moved first. She herself, or the wonder-twins seated at opposite sides of the kitchen island covered in heavy tomes. But they ran to each-other, open arms and all smiles, clasping together just about mid-way, calling out each-other's names.

It didn't take her long to lock them both in a playful choke-hold. They laughed contently as she bellowed: "How are my peeps?!"

The rug-rats had grown! Not tremendously. It had only been a few months. Even if it felt like it'd been years. But Dipper filled out her old hat a bit better and Mabel was every bit as tall as he was. If not just a tad taller. Perhaps by a millimeter or so.

"Oh Wendy, it's so great to see you again!" Dipper's hoarse voice cheered as he wrestled free and hugged her back.

It wasn't long before the pair of them, as ever stronger when they worked together, managed to push her to the cold floor, laughing. And she couldn't but help join them loudly and gladly. With them here, it seemed like a promise that things would turn out alright. And any last worries she'd had lingering about regarding Tambry melted away like the thick snow outside would do come springtime. Now all she had to worry about was this being a good dream she'd wake up from soon, at Tambry's side.

Van Hadeschant didn't wake with a start. Instead his consciousness clawed and dragged itself from the swamp of fatigue, prodded on by the sharp stabs of withdrawal. The hangover was gone now, replaced by a much more draining sensation. Along with the faint taste of vomit in his mouth. He groaned, tossed and turned, caught between the desire to go back to sleep and to get up and fix himself another drink. He'd need a strong one to make the shivers go away.

When at long last he couldn't but help open his eyes. He could see Pavlov had gone. They were probably outside, running in the fenced of yard. That was fine. They would return to it's basket after he'd left to get back to the Northwest mansion.

Groggily he searched himself for the pocket-watch he had on him. Wanting to see her face again. Her comforting smile. He needed to be reminded.

Yet he never got that far.

His eyes fell on the clock's hands. It was getting late. Too late already. This couldn't be right. The longing for a drink was pushed back with a sense of distress and pressure he'd not felt in a long time. His paces steadfast, he drew himself up from the couch and walked over to the nearest window. He opened the curtains, to find the sun descending. It's orange light starting to cast long shadows on the far off hills. Soon they'd swallow it whole.

"Verdammt." He breathed to himself.

He'd slept too long. Too late. He'd have to hurry to get back to the mansion before nightfall. Even if the vampire was probably destroyed; Leaving those kids alone in the dead of night would be a form of neglect he could not accept from himself. He'd have to get there, even if it meant facing the darkness. If worst came to worst… He still had other torches he could burn with flaming oils.

The gears inside his mind worked fast. Rationalizing what first to do and how to get ready in the fastest way possible. He'd need stuff. Weaponry. Protection. Yet he had to get a move on…

And most important of all… Even more than that half-a-bottle of Jack Daniels he saw before crashing... He had to check if the prisoner, locked down in his basement, wasn't dead yet.

A good thirty minutes later, Dipper looked up from the heavy book, almost as big as he was, as Wendy re-entered the kitchen. The glass of water she'd taken with her absent now. This time she emerged from the doors with a lot more dignity and sense of calm. Though he realized he still couldn't quite wipe that stupid smile off his face, seeing her here again. He made a quick note with his half-eaten, chewed up pencil, on his scribbled pad. Lest he forget the specifics on the rules of invitation a vampire needed to abide by before entering someone's sanctuary. There was a lot of information in the book titled "Horrors of the Night: Gravity Falls' Nocturnal Guide". But he wasn't certain of the validity of it all. It wasn't like it had been written by his great-uncle Ford. He hoped some of the others on his list would prove more useful. But still, ever since the journals had burned at the hands of Bill Cipher, it was a luxury to have any form of information on their adversaries in the remote, little town. Any scrap was worth penning down.

"So..." Wendy said, sauntering over.

It was only now that Mabel, who was busy with both the sharpening and the decorating of effective yet fabulous, wooden stakes, noticed her. She knocked over a container of glitter which poofed into a sparkly cloud.

"What's up with your face, dude?" Wendy snorted, laying her hand on Dipper's cheek.

His face turned red at the touch. And not simply because of the mark she was implying to.

"Hah." Mabel laughed. "Lover's quarrel."

"Oh ha-ha-ha." Dipper uttered sarcastically. At Wendy's questioning look, he added. "Pacifica slapped me. I had it coming though. And we were all a little bit tested at the time."

"Pacifica went to have lie down, you said earlier?" Wendy asked, continuing.

"Yeah. She said she hadn't gotten any sleep whatsoever, what with Gideon being on the plane and all." Mabel answered for them, putting aside an especially pointy stake with no less than three peacock feathers on it.

This seemed to knock Wendy off guard.

"Gideon?" She asked. "When did she pick him up?"

"Didn't pick him up." Dipper said, snapping the book shut. "He was waiting for her. I swear, that guy is up to something."

"Well, we were lucky he was there. If he hadn't used his memory-gun, the camp-leaders would never have let us leave." Mabel admitted.

Wendy claimed a stool and sat herself down at one of the empty sides of the island.

"Memory gun?" She asked.

"Pushing an agenda." Dipper said, tapping his temple knowingly. "What was he like when we were gone? Did he seem like he was up to something nefarious?"

"Dude." She answered. "It's Gideon we're talking about. If he started acting normal, I'd be getting worried. But no. He hasn't helped us much with the new cases. But he could be counted on whenever Soos and I needed help. I get the feeling he was working on something and thus keeping to himself. … A memory-gun. Could just be it, guys. Next time we see him, we ask him what he made it for. Mabel destroyed that thing with good reason. I he around here somewhere?"

"No." Mabel said, more cheerfully. "I asked him to go fetch Grenda and Candy for me. He was happy enough to oblige."

"And that was a smart call." Dipper said, tapping one of the tomes. "I've got a lot of lecture to go through. Can't be having his constant flirting with Mabel catch me off guard."

His twin shuddered.

"Oh, no." Wendy exclaimed. "Bad call dudes. Look, we think we got everything under control but he can't be out there at night alone. Not yet anyways. And definitely not unarmed."

"Well of course." Dipper's voice told her he was on the same page. "We've got a vampire on the loose." He continued. "No one should be out alone at night. But with the way the street are, and with his chauffeur back at the lake, he can't make it back in time. We told him not to return during the dark. If needs be, he could spend the night at Grenda's or Candy's. They don't live far from one another. So since the phones have been going dodgy ever since the blizzard..."

"We couldn't call you before it hit either."

"Yeah. Well, now you can't even call anyone in the town." Dipper replied.

"Just an expensive paper-weight now!" Mabel exclaimed, holding out her cellphone.

Dipper could tell by the stickers and glue that it had suffered the same total-makeover the stakes were receiving. Wendy dug into her pocket and pulled out her own smartphone, obviously checking for reception. The surprise crept on her face noticeably.

"Not cool." She uttered.

"So after we hit the library we asked him to go get them himself. Some of Mabel's "Oh please Gideon, do it for little old me"..." Dipper did his best to imitate his sister's voice as he clasped his hands together. But the effect was drained by his own, croaking voice.

"I do not sound like that." Mabel wasn't amused.

"And he couldn't refuse." Dipper continued. "Once he was gone, Pacifica brought us here. She informed us of everything that's happened up to now along the way. And we tried to check up on you. But you and Robbie and Tambry were still asleep. Rather than waking you, we decided to delve into these books so we could prepare ourselves for the vampire."

"And where better than near cookies and milk?" Mabel asked, presenting both proudly. "My idea."

"Heh." Wendy smiled, making a grab for the plate and picking one of the chocolate chip cookies. "I bet. Quite the set of books you guys got." She added, before taking a bite.

"Anything the library had available that in any shape or form could be useful in regards to horrors of the night." Dipper claimed proudly, slapping the tower of literature. "Nothing much useful so far..." He added begrudgingly. "But I'm sure something will turn up."

Wendy checked out the smaller booklet by his left arm and picked it up with keen interest. After swallowing the mouthful as she studied it, she flipped it over and said. "This one ain't from the library."

"Yeah, no. That's mine." Dipper laughed embarrassedly as he took it from her. "I took it with me from camp.

"'Codes and Ciphers'?" She asked, naming the title of the book.

"Well, it's good to keep your mind trained." Dipper answered. He feared he might be blushing slightly. "And being outside of Gravity Falls for a few months, how else am I going to prepare for my own monster and mystery hunting show for when I grow up?"

Wendy laughed. But it wasn't a cruel one. Rather encouraging even. Even her snorts. He'd missed that laugh. More than he could put into words.

"I've been reading Vigenere up to now." He went on, invigorated by her lovely laughter. "Though the next chapter is 'ATBASH'."

"Cool dude." Wendy said.

Her voice was in it, trying to sound interested for his sake. But he could tell codes weren't really her thing. Breaking into secret tombes and fighting unicorns, yes. Traversing the wasteland and saving the world. That was where she shone. Action and decisions. But not puzzling and weighing your options. Truth be told, he admired her for it.

"So anyway, enough about us." Dipper said, changing the subject to keep her interested.

"Yeah." Mabel added. "What's been up here? Apart from the vampire and stuff. Anything else happen while we lost contact?"

The redhead seemed to mull it over. "Nah." She concluded. "I mean, the craziest thing we had to deal with between the Minticore and this dried-up cattle was that meek kid and this burping old guy appearing out of nowhere at the town-square."

"How did that go?" Dipper asked.

"The old geezer in his lab-coat dragged that poor, struggling kid after him, screaming his name all the time and talking some incoherent, loud smack. I chased after them as they ran into the new McDonald's. The boy kept pleading him to take it easy. It was a sad sight, really."

"And what happened? What did they want with Gravity Falls?" Mabel asked.

"Apparently Szechuan Chicken McNugget Sauce." Wendy explained, a puzzled look on her face. "When I followed them in, they were already at the counter. And the old guy, he asked, well yelled at Thompson… Thompson got a job at the new McDonald's by the way."

"Oh good for him."

"Yeah, he's doing great. He says it's paying better than the movie theatre. Some creepy guy from school took his place there. Anyways, the old cook screamed loudly, demanding to know if they had the sauce. When Thompson said, well cried, that they didn't, I was sure the gray geezer was going to obliterate Thompson."

"How so?"

"He pulled out this futuristic gun as he groaned. Thompson cowered and I tried to rush over to save him. The next thing I know, the guy fires it to his side and opens this green blob in the middle of the room. In he goes, dragging the young boy… Was it Marty? It all happened so fast… Anyway, he dragged him along and the next thing we know that blob disappears. We haven't seen them ever since."

"That is pretty weird." Mabel conceded.

"Welcome to Gravity Falls." Wendy shrugged her shoulders, smiling faintly. "At least they left without causing any devastation."

"I don't remember anything about that in the journals." Dipper sighed. "I wish those books were here now instead of these… Grunkle Ford had a lot more to say on the occult than these books."

"You really should talk to the doc. He knows all manner of stuff… I wonder what's keeping him." She absentmindedly looked towards the entrance of the kitchen, as if the man would suddenly emerge. "Anything useful at all?" She followed up, turning back and nodding towards the books.

"Well… some." Dipper admitted, grabbing a dusty old book with both hands. He studied the dried up pages. "But I don't know how much is fiction and how much is real..."

"That's never stopped us before." Mabel smiled, painting some nail polish on the tip of a stake."

"Yeah..." Dipper chuckled. "I guess not. But look at this." He coughed, clearing his throat as he quoted from the book. "The demon that haunts the nights, stealing the essence of life from beast, babe and man alike roams outside free as the winds it conjures and rides. Yet true freedom aludes this monstrosity, enslaved by it's own desires. It is bound by it's own strengths and it's weaknesses; doomed never to blossom and never to whither. And it is warded off by value, traditions and such rules as even it, darkness incarnate, cannot break. Take it's inability to enter a home without proper invitation. Or it's inability to move in the daylight..."

"For the record, dude..." Wendy said, leaning, resting her feet on the table. "I think the book's right about the sunlight. The doc claimed as much. Didn't hear him talking about needing to be invited in, though." She added in an aloof manner.

Dipper continued, closing the heavy book. "Anyways. We wanted to rent more books, but it seems someone got to most of the more interesting ones before we did."

"Who?" Wendy asked.

"Dr. Van Hadeschant." Mabel said without looking up, focused solely on her craftmanship.

"Wow. You guys must've just missed him then on his way home."

"Actually..." Dipper explained. "The librarian told us he'd checked them out two weeks ago."

"What?"

"Call it a hunch, but it seemed like this knowledgeable doctor, on the nose on vampires, was aware of everything before he came here."

"Looks like you guys really should have a chat with him by the time he's back." She got up. "Hey anybody want a pitt cola?" She asked, walking over to the fridge.

"You're awfully nonchalant about this entire ordeal." Dipper said as she opened the door.

Hiding behind it as she rummaged through the fridge, she laughed: "Dude… have you met me? So how's that on the coke?"

"Yes please." Mabel said, putting a sticker of a bat on the stake before placing it with the rest of the made-over anti-undead weaponry.

"I'm good." Dipper replied.

The slender girl reemerged with two cans. One in each hand. "Suit yourself." She smiled, tossing Mabel her drink gently.

His sister caught it without trouble. "You're not worried?" The brunette asked.

Wendy looked like she could take on the world as she leaned against the large fridge and pulled the lid off her can. "I was there when we utterly decimated that hag." She spoke with an air of pride. "And now that Tambry's woken up. I'm pretty sure we've seen the last of that so-called threat."

With a single-mindedness came strength. Power. Control. And while this burning sense of pure rage was invigorating, it threw her off balance. The vile creatures that violated Her had to be punished. Her mind dwelled on them without her wanting to. Focused. Obsessed. A strange sensation. She had but a vague memory of it in the olden days.

But She needed to tear herself away from such thoughts. Visions of retribution. Of screams and suffering and … blood. She needed to focus on blood.

Weak now. So close to being strong. Becoming stronger with every night. Soon. Very soon. Strong enough to defeat that old imbecile. That wretched monster that thought itself clever. And that red-haired one. The one that thought itself brave. She'd show them both. She'd consume them. But slowly. So very painfully. So very slowly.

Vengeance. Hold on to that anger. But feed. She must feed. Grow Strong. Feed. Gain. Become more. Feed. Feed. Feed on the red-haired brat! See her body shiver in fear. Powerless. Crying. Soon. But not yet.

But who? Her scent was all that was on her mind. And yet. All those the brat had touched. All those the brat had been near. They were all somewhere She couldn't go. Not yet. Soon. Not strong enough. The night was coming. She needed to be ready. Strong enough to break free. To return truly. To no longer remember. But to feel. To be.

And once the reflection became reality, all would be hers. Including vengeance. Choose a different prey. Grow now. Grow. Impossible to get any of them. Impossible. Protected. Surrounded.

Night falling. Choices to be made. No more animals. Weak as She was. She was beyond that. Too strong. Too proud. Not animals. Yet this She had to do alone.

But not him. Impossible. Not her. Impossible. None that carried her scent. None. She wanted that scent. Craved to consume it. Needed. But impossible. None.

… Except…

Yes.

One.

Alone.

Near the dark.

So close to walking in.

It was perfect.

His heart filled with turmoil. Weak. Impressionable. Rage within. Unbalanced. Focused as well. Obsessed. Over the same red haired girl. Drawn. She felt drawn to him. Yes. Feed. Build. Grow. More. Feed. Consume. Feed. Dominate. Feed!

Edward Smithson sighed deeply. The automated 3 features, one of which being the eighties classic 'Going Away Again From the Past and Present' were about to start, as the last rays of sunlight disappeared around the hilly town. And yet again, despite the eighties-nostalgia sweeping the nation, it'd proven not to draw any crowd whatsoever. Sat in his ticket-booth in the front of Gravity Falls', as well as all surrounding areas', only cinema, warming himself to the little built in stove, he reflected on this colossal failure and all it's implements all the more. His solitary occupation acting like a natural, unavoidable amplifier.

At this point, the fact that today the freaky blizzard had calmed down, was about the only thing to lift his spirits. Perhaps tomorrow the snow would melt away and Gravity Falls would grow lively once more. And perhaps if the streets in and out of the quaint little town became accessible once more, more people would come. Any people would do at this point. Another night like this and he feared he'd be fired because of lack of clientele. And he needed this vacation job.

Hell. He needed something, anything, to go his way. Where this sudden bout of self-pity came from, Edward had no idea. His pustule-ridden face and the recent addition of his obnoxious braces had indeed given him plenty of warm-ups for a bout of this magnitude. But this seemed different. Like an abyss whispering to him, luring him in. And he felt unable to walk into any-other direction.

Life sucked. He wasn't doing too well in school. His latest clearing cream; "Le Pimp: Anti-Pimple" wasn't working. (So much for taking his sister's word that the French had the best make up products!) His mouth hurt and he sounded like an awkward baboon. His parents didn't understand him. Like at all. That's why he'd been sleeping over in the cinema's janitor's closet for the past few days now; vowing this place to be his home untill they learned to chill out. And as far as he was concerned, this place was his home. It made it all the harder that he was about to lose the only job he'd ever been given. If that happened he wouldn't be able to afford that car his uncle wanted to sell… And if that happened, what would he do when spring rolled up? He needed that car. People would like him more, come to know him more, if he had that hook to snare them in. He'd have more friends. Perhaps even a girlfriend?

A girlfriend… That had been the biggest blow to his ego of all, truth be told. Wendy Corduroy, the singular object of his affection, and admittedly imagination, over the last few months had come by yesterday. He'd felt, in that sweaty, panicky, short moment that her visit had been a gift from the heavens themselves. A break cut for him for all the crap they'd bestowed him with over the last few years.

And not only hadn't she stayed. She'd taunted him as well. Made it perfectly clear, crystal-clear in fact, that she didn't have any interest in him. He'd been left to his lonesome all night. Alone with this thoughts. He didn't like his thoughts… Perhaps that was fitting. No-one else seemed to.

The feeling of solitude rushed coursed through his very being. It grew in strength, pulling him closer and closer to the abyss.

'Invite them in.' The strange thought crept into his mind. He mulled it over.

'Invite them in.' It grew stronger.

'Invite all of them in."

He didn't know where it came from. But it made sense, didn't it? Be it for work. Or for his life. Everyone was welcome. Everyone could come in.

'Invite me in.' The idea seemed to claw it's way into his brain, not letting go but growing. Growing. And growing more still.

"Let me in." It seemed to hiss. Alluring, yet frightening.

He couldn't ignore it any longer. Be it his soul, be it the cinema; he needed someone, anyone, to be there. "Everybody's welcome!" He called out loudly, to the abandoned, vacant streets. "Anybody can come in!" He added.

The moment he'd done it, made a fool of himself if anyone had been there to see him, he felt stupid. What had he been expecting?

He tried to end his trip into self-loathing the same way he'd started it: with a heavy sigh. He soon left the warmth of his booth. Customers or no. He was being payed to do a job. And the entire place could do with a sweeping. At least it would give him something to do. Help get his mind off things.

And really, it already had. With cleaning on his mind, he wandered back to earlier that day. He'd spent a good thirty minutes already trying to scrub away the new graffiti on the men's bathroom-stalls. He'd worked it until he sweat and had still only removed about half of the markings. But the experience was more than enough to have them branded in his mind for good. If he closed his eyes he could still see the words:

"Thirty-two white horses on a red hill,

first they champ,

then they stamp,

then they stand still."

He was certain he'd heard that somewhere before. Or read it. It was a nice diversion of the usual scribble found on bathroom-stalls. But he still wanted it gone. At least the boss-man wouldn't fire him for being a slacker. For leaving things lying around, all messy.

There was a cold breeze as he opened the heavy door to the theater.

It seemed to follow him inside.