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Dipper looked into his great uncle's eyes and saw something he'd thought impossible. Fear.
Ford was trapped under fallen rubble. He spoke with eyes wide, his words, frantic. "Dipper, run. Find Mabel, go to the mystery shack and..." Ford's breath caught. An echoing, inhuman laugh had filled the air. There was no time. "RUN!" Ford's tone was desperate now. Dipper sprinted to the stairwell, barely evading the ominous shadow moving swiftly over the steeple.
The shadow swept across Ford's face, replacing the reflections in his eyes with shimmering gold. He could feel the panic he'd so carefully tried to hide from Dipper. It was tearing at his insides, longing to be free.
"Well, well, well." Bill's voice was playfully intense. "If it isn't my favourite disciple." He was colossal, towering many metres above Ford. Bill had never appeared to him in such a large form. It was no doubt a demonstration of power. Ford gulped involuntarily.
The floating pyramid crossed his legs, while an index finger tapped his giant top hat. "Looks like you missed me, Fordsy." They both simultaneously looked at the hole Ford's gun had left in the headwear. The smoking inner walls were a mash of pulsating viscera that dripped blood onto the rim of the hat. Ford felt sick. "It's ok," Bill chuckled, "I missed you too." Muscle and sinew began to fill the empty space with slow slithering motion. Bill watched with delight as Ford's expression turned from caution to disgust.
Without warning, Bill leaned in close. Alarm shot through Ford as he experienced a sudden loss of volition. Bill's giant pupil followed intently as an invisible forced lifted him from the rubble. To Ford's surprise, he was carefully placed onto his feet. A flex of his palm told Ford that he'd regained control, for now. “What? You're not even gonna say ‘thank you’?” Bill's voice had lowered. It was possible that his henchmen, who had been jeering below, could no longer hear him. Bill's breathy chuckle was enough to make Ford's hair bristle. He braced himself, formulating something defiant to say to the beast. If Bill was going to kill him, Ford wanted to get it over with. He was about to mention that, but thought better of it. There were things worse than death that Ford did not want to tempt.
Bill seemed disappointed by Ford's silence. He leaned back and addressed the henchmanics. "You all remember Sixer, right?" he announced loudly. Spiteful laughs emanated from the crowd. "My mad little scientist," he said fondly. "My most devoted fan." Bill clasped his hands together and swung them up to meet his own cheek. "I always knew you'd come back to me." He followed it up with a strange, one-eyed wink. Ford tried to ignore that. Instead, he calculated his escape. His eyes flickered from the gun peeking out from under the rubble, to the stairwell a few feet away. But it was difficult to concentrate, as his face had become warm.
If he could grab the weapon, make it into the church... Ford tensed up, readying himself. Bill's hands slowly lowered from his face, his attention now fixed on Ford. Of course, Bill had been watching Ford's eye movements. He could practically hear the cogs in Ford's brain turning, a familiar sound. The demon fell silent, feeling the change in atmosphere.
Ford lunged forward, arm outstretched towards the gun. "Oh no, you don't." Bill hissed in dangerous anger. Before Ford could process what was happening, his vision filled with inky blackness. Ford's heart skipped a beat as his hand connected with warm, soft, suede-like material, rather than the metal he'd expected. Blind, and unable to contextualise his other senses, he began feeling around. A wave of claustrophobia washed over him as he realised the space was too small to stand up in. His exploratory touch felt the walls of his cell begin to move. Ford gasped with dreadful comprehension. Bill's giant hands had pinned him to the ground like a child catching a leaping cricket. Bill scooped Ford off his feet, gently cradling him in closed palms.
The triangle flashed with giddy excitement as he pulled the captive Ford close to his chest. Bill's hands parted. His piercing gaze found the man, who'd fallen in unsteadiness. Ford squinted through the sudden brightness to focus on Bill's monstrous form. He felt unbearably vulnerable - as if he were naked. A shock of embarrassment snapped him out of that thought. Anger at the indignity took its place.
Fists clenched with defiance, Stanford moved with purpose as he rose to his feet. Bill's hands would rise with him. The landscape swept past vertically as Bill's eye approached like the setting sun. He stared the demon down with a steely glare. "Let me go, Cipher" Ford said in the most authoritative tone he could muster.
"Oh, are we finally on speaking terms?" Bill rolled his eye in exasperation. Ford could feel the mocking smile behind it.
"I said, let me go." Ford's words were tinged with annoyance this time. Bill enjoyed watching Ford lose his cool. He wanted Ford to lose so much more.
"You know, you're not really in a position to be making demands, tough guy." Ford quickly stepped aside as one massive hand moved out from under him. The knuckle of Bill's index finger brushed against his body. Ford grimaced and tried to push it away, but it forced itself into the nape of his neck, caressing his jawline and eventually coming to rest under his ear. Ford froze, his face turning bright red. Through gritted teeth, he repeated the sentiment one more time,
"Let me go, now."
Bill's demeanour became unexpectedly casual. He shrugged, "Eh, have it your way." Ford was taken aback for just a moment, but Bill's indifference evaporated instantly. The hand on his cheek suddenly grabbed Ford tightly. There was chaos in Bill's eye as he lowered Ford to ground level. "W-Wait!" Ford began, but the word stretched into a scream as Ford was hurled violently upwards.
Pulse racing, spinning uncontrollably, intense vertigo filled Ford's body as he rocketed into the air. Higher, and higher still. Primal fear gripped his soul as his momentum began to slow and the blurred environment came into focus. It was very clear that he would not survive a fall this high. Whether death would come instantly, however, could not be determined. The anger that had been building up inside him dissipated. He watched the red horizon slowly change direction, feeling only fear and regret.
As his body rotated in mid-air, the monster below came into view. It watched Ford with hungry anticipation. For a moment, Ford thought Bill would simply eat him, as if he'd thrown a tic-tac to catch in his mouth. But the moment passed and no mouth appeared. Instead, Bill steadily held out his hand, like he was assessing the intensity of rainfall.
Was Bill was going to catch him? Ford felt a touch of relief - and immediately regretted it. As he hurtled back to earth, Ford saw that Bill's hand wasn't directly below him. It had drifted slightly to one side. Anger viciously returned. The deafening roar of rushing air had made it near-impossible to understand Bill's games. But as he rapidly approached the demon, Ford realised what Bill wanted. And he instantly knew Bill would get it.
In the split-second before certain death, Ford reached for Bill's hand. It had turned vertically at this point, just to make things more difficult. Nevertheless, Ford was glad to feel that familiar velvety darkness hit his palms. Survival instincts pulsed through his body as Ford wrapped his arms around Bill's fingers, holding them tight to his chest, his face. Ford's boots desperately tried to find purchase but failed. And so he had no choice but to let all twelve fingers scratch Bill like a wild animal, digging his nails into the softness until they finally stopped slipping. Ford felt the giant hand twinge in pain.
The henchmaniacs raucous laughter had faded into unnatural silence. Ford could feel that Bill was very close. Indeed, his eye, only a few feet behind, was hypnotically transfixed on the scene. Its pupil flexed with pleasure each time Ford's nails entered his flesh. Ford desperately tried to climb. And for a brief moment, he reached some kind of stability. The demon felt immense satisfaction in taking that away, with an unforgiving turn of the wrist. Again, Ford would slip towards death, forcing him to hold Bill even closer. And again, Bill would feel the keen sting of being truly held.
Over and over, pain and pleasure. It repeated until Bill was drunk with feeling.
"Say it again." Bill's voice was low and urgent. "If that's what you really want. Tell me to let you go." Ford couldn't face Bill due to his precarious position. If he could have, Bill would've seen the white-hot rage in Ford's expression. He pressed his forehead against Bill in sheer frustration, while his chest heaved with physical exertion. The earth below still seemed miles away. Another rush of vertigo made Ford close his eyes, tight. "Fuck you." He spat between laboured breaths.
His uncharacteristically foul language had Bill cackling with surprise. There was a wicked smile behind the triangle's eye as he finally moved his hand to support Ford's weight. The Sisyphean cycle was broken. Ford hated the surge of relief he felt as he was surrounded by Bill's warmth once more. A colossal thumb moved over Ford's shoulder blades, rubbing them gently, pressing the man into his palm. Ford attempted to protest, but he was exhausted. Without warning, the thumb flipped Ford onto his back as Bill's remaining digits encircled him. Their eyes met with a spark.
"You don't know what you want, Stanford Pines." One thumb pressed against Ford's flushed cheek. "I know what you want." The other pushed up his red sweater. "I've seen it in your dreams." It took a moment for Ford to process that last sentence. With dread, he felt deep memories bubble to the surface - dreams from thirty years ago. Admiration turned to longing, which in turn became complete and utter devotion. Ford worshipped his god unconditionally. He'd do anything and everything to please him. All he wanted in return was the sweet bliss of knowing that, he, Stanford Pines, was Bill's favourite.
His god was right, Ford didn't know what he wanted. Because he was finally Bill's favourite. And it was a nightmare.
"And I'm more than a dream now, Sixer." Bill gazed at Ford with insidious intent. Under the weight of his grasp, Ford was completely helpless. A razor-sharp claw unsheathed from Bill's satin fingertip and began tracing Ford's stomach, leaving drops of blood beading in its wake. "I'm here." At first, Ford cried out in pain. But as the claw continued its meandering journey, he began to feel something else. "I'm real." Ford was horrified to recognise the same pleasure he'd seen in Bill just moments ago. A shock of mortifying shame battled against the feeling. But it was too late. Ford's longing expression had betrayed him, making the demon glow with vindication. "Yes," Bill's words dripped with hunger, "I can finally touch you." His thumb caressed Ford's lips, parting them.
"Bill," Ford gasped.
Ford suddenly found himself unable to speak, as if he'd been gagged. A terrible sensation in his lips shot panic through his body. He threw up his hands and tried to detach his mouth from Bill's thumb, but it would not budge. He could feel the same sensation metastasising outwards from wherever Bill and Ford's skin had made contact, which was many places at this point. Ford silently screamed as he realised he was slowly turning to gold.
The last thing Ford heard was supernaturally low, demonic laughter. A moment later, Bill triumphantly held up the golden statue of a frightened man. The henchmanics howled with approval. Bill didn't need their opinion, however. He admired his own work - a face frozen in fear, anger, shame, and longing. It was a perfect. Bill desperately wanted to finish his masterpiece, but he couldn't do it here. His henchmen's laughter was already becoming grating. He thought about turning them all to stone and crushing them. Bill wanted to be alone with his favourite. There were other ways to find solitude, however. The pyramid separated into three floating tiers, which consecutively began to rotate. As their speed quickened, they disappeared one-by-one into thin air, taking the statue with them.
Dipper's mind was reeling.
He'd been hiding deep in the church. The view had been blocked and the sounds were muffled. He hadn't been able to piece together what was happening, but he'd known Grunkle Ford was in trouble. It'd took him minutes to gather the courage he needed to face Bill. But when he finally poked his head above the landing, he regretted it so quickly that he immediately bailed before anyone had even noticed him. As Dipper wandered the wasteland in search for Mabel, he thought about his great uncle, and how he didn't know him at all.