Different Form, Different Time

Life is about to get interesting

Bill sits in the window seat of his room holding a small bird. It pecks and chirps in fear as he squeezes it. He's always found it amusing how creatures squirm when they realize death is near. He plucks its feathers, laughing quietly as it screams in pain, imagining it begging for mercy, telling him it has a family to feed. He pulls out his pocketknife, slowly cutting off its wing.

"Bill!" Stan screams from the bottom of the stairs. "Stop messing around and get down here, I need to talk to you!

"Just a minute!" Bill yell back, muttering to himself, "Always interrupting."

He stabs the bird's head and chucks it out the window, running downstairs to see what's so important. Stan looks at his hand, sighing as he throws him a towel.

"Kid, what did I say about doing that shit in the house?" He does his best to give Bill a disappointed frown, failing miserably. "Anyway, you remember my great niece and nephew, right?"

Bill leans against the doorframe, wiping the blood off his hand. "Kind of. Shermie's funeral, Dipper and Mabel, right?"

"Yep. I don't know all the details, but their parents died and so they're coming to live here."

"Do they not have any other family?" Not that he minds, Dipper was pretty fun to talk to; but he doesn't feel like having more people in the house.

"No, their only other option is foster care, which is a bullshit system. I'm leaving to pick them up, so you have to man the Shack." Stan grabs his keys and adds before leaving, "Oh, and Dipper's gonna be in the attic with you so make sure it doesn't look like a horror scene up there."

Bill's head falls back as the man leaves, "Fuck me." He peeks his head through the gift shop door, "Soos, can you keep an eye on the place for a minute?"

The handy man grins, "Already on it, dude, sounds like Ford's coming up anyway."

Bill nods, going back upstairs. The room isn't that bad, a few papers scattered on the floor, unmade bed, and a small crime scene in the window. He snaps his fingers, the room immediately gets back into order. He grabs some extra sheets, making the other bed. Hopefully, Dipper doesn't mind his poor sleeping habits, although he'll have to find a new place to be alone for his recreational activities.

▲▲▲

When Stan returns with the twins, Bill is waiting on the front porch, a fake smile plastered on his face. Is he supposed to smile? Their parents just died; but won't frowning make them feel unwelcome. Emotions are so annoying. He looks at Soos; small, sympathetic, yet welcoming smile, easy enough to copy.

He studies the twins as they exit the vehicle. Both are dressed in black; they must have left right after the funeral. Mabel's face is still red from crying, but her demeanor radiates with an annoying optimism. Looks like she hasn't changed much. Dipper, on the other hand, is almost expressionless. His eyes dull, filled with secrets and darkness; shoulders slumped like he's carrying the world. He's pale too, aren't Californians supposed to be tan like Mabel? The difference between them is honestly jarring.

"Dipper, you go with Bill to the attic. Mabel, I'll show you your room. Soos did you get rid of that body swapping carpet?"

"Yessir, Mr. Pines. Ford took it to his lab."

"Good, I do not want to deal with that again."

Bill laughs quietly, remembering the ordeal. Soos, Stan, and Ford spent three days trying to get back into their own bodies after the scientist had one of his fits about Bill. He waves Dipper over, "Let's get you settled in."