Its Hour Come Round At Last

"You are My witnesses."

-Isaiah 43:10





"Are you sure you want to do this, Mabel?" Dipper asked, the sound of the engine of Wendy's car humming in the background.

Mabel Pines shot her brother a hard, determined look. "I'm completely sure, Dipper. I mean, I'm the one who originally swore to get her back. I have to go on this mission. I won't be able to live with myself if I don't. The only reason Melanie isn't going is because they're holding a wake for her sister, you know the one I swore to get back."

The discovery of Jessica's clothes, contrary to what Melanie had said, was enough to convince the authorities that she was almost certainly dead. The FBI had announced that morning that they were formally transitioning from a child abduction investigation to a murder investigation and Melanie's family had decided the time had come to mourn their lost daughter.

Dipper sighed. "Then I'm coming with you."

But the fact remained that someone had to stay behind and keep looking into the Club. There was also Wendy pointing out that, if this mission went bad, they couldn't all end up dead or as hostages. So he'd agreed to stay. He knew that Mabel and Wendy worked well together, they'd gone off together during missions before, but he'd never been out of range to support them if things went to seed, which they almost always did.

That was the other thing. Mabel had sold her participation on this mission to her parents with the already established cover story of a weekend excursion to Sacramento. It was Friday. They expected her to be back no later than Monday evening. That was also the window to complete the recon mission. If at 6 P.M on Monday, total radio silence (other than the "cover" texts Mabel would periodically send back as long as possible to give their parents the impression that all was well) had not been broken with so much as a text message from any one of them, Dipper would assume that Wendy and her team had been lost and to go to the police with everything they had. It would almost certainly get all of them into serious trouble, but it was also the best chance they had of being rescued (assuming at that point that any of them were still alive) and exposing whatever was going on up there.

Dipper sighed. This was it. This was really it. For the first time, his sister, his closest friend, his only constant companion before Pacifica entered his life, was going into trouble and he would not be close enough to bail her out.

"Okay, Mabel," Dipper said softly. Mabel smiled at him and hugged her brother hard to her.

"Hey," she said a moment later. "Don't feel bad. I'll be back. I don't want to think about what we may find up there, but I promise you I will be back." She unhooked her arms from around her brother. "Mystery Twins?"

Dipper smiled. "Mystery Twins."

Mabel smiled. "I'll see you on the other side." Mabel turned on her heels and walked out the door, shutting it behind her.

"Your sister can take care of herself, you know," Pacifica said from the stairs behind her, as Thompson's van started. Thompson was on this mission as the driver. He'd drop them off at the initial point, before returning to town and checking into a motel. When the time came for extraction, he'd go back, retrieve them, and return them home.

"I know," Dipper said softly. "It's just-this is the first time I won't be able to come to her rescue when she needs me."

"She needs to do this, Dipper," Pacifica said softly. He turned to see his tall, leggy blonde of a fiancée, in a pink tanktop and blue jeans, walking down the stairs towards him. "I remember her telling me about Mermando. She has no more choice now then she did then. Jessica Ocampo is almost certainly dead, but she promised to bring her home. Have you ever known your sister, when the chips were really down, to leave someone in the lurch?"

Dipper shook his head. "No. Hell, even when my body was possessed by Bill Cipher and she was obsessed with that creep Gabe Benson, she got her act together in time to stop him."

"So she'll be fine," Paz said as she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body and all its…interesting contours to his back. She was wearing her favorite perfume, a violet scent that always forced its way into his nostrils and managed to short-circuit his brain.

Like right now.

Dipper, aroused despite himself, couldn't help but smile. "You're trying to get me into bed, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Pacifica said nonchalantly. "Oh, sure I mean I'm horny right now, that doesn't mean I want you."

Dipper, recognizing her game, wheeled around and yanked her roughly into his embrace by the small of her back. "Oh," he said, holding her possessively and shooting her a fake glare of jealous lust (well, fake jealousy at any rate, the lust was real). "Who is he? I'm insanely jealous." There was of course, no other guy, but this was their favorite little game. And he needed the distraction anyway. With all that was going on, they both needed this, this little island of normalcy in the sea of uncertainty and pain their lives had become.

"I don't think you'd know him," Pacifica said airily, smirking even as she scooted closer to him, lips inches from each other. "He's not some rough, uncultured peasant boy like you. He's a wealthy, handsome man who can turn any girl he wants into putty in his hands."

"Is that so," Dipper growled before he pulled her into a hard, bruising kiss. "He wouldn't know what to do with you."

"Oh, yeah?" Pacifica said, low and throaty. "Prove it."

"I intend too," Dipper growled, grabbing her waist and sweeping her into his arms, and carrying her towards the stairs. "By the time I'm through with you, I'll have you screaming my name and begging me not to stop."

Sometime later, Pacifica was never sure, she and Dipper lay exhausted next to each other; Her head rested on his bare chest, as he cuddled her to him.

"How was that?" She said, softly.

"Perfect," Dipper said softly, kissing her forehead. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Just perfect."

"Good," Pacifica said, her heart glowing as she snuggled against him, exhausted. "I love you."

"I love you too," Dipper said back to her fervently. "More than you'll ever know, I love you."

She settled against him, eyes closing, ready to give herself over to her exhausted state, when her stomach abruptly decided it had other ideas; Loudly enough that it reverberated through the room.

"Hungry?" Dipper said softly.

"Extremely," Pacifica responded.

"I can make a run to Wendy's if you want," Dipper said.

Pacifica smiled. "No, thanks. Shannon's making her burritos when she gets home from work tonight."

"Ooh," Dipper said, with a smile of his own. "Her burritos were always the best. Better than my mom's, but don't tell her that!" He said the last part sharply, causing Pacifica and Dipper to lapse into a fit of laughter. "Seriously though," he said a moment later, when she and Dipper had settled back down. "I could make a run to 7-11. Get you a quick snack to tide you over."

Pacifica mulled it over for a moment. I am very hungry, Pacifica thought to herself. "7-11 it is."

Dipper smiled and rolled out of bed, pulling his clothes back on. Dipper smiled at her, giving her one of the smiles that had made her heart race since she was twelve. Grabbing his Claddagh ring off his nightstand, he slid it onto his left-hand ring finger before grabbing his car keys and heading out the door.

Pacifica smiled, as she smiled every time he wore his ring. While women wore Claddagh rings as engagement and wedding rings, men tended to wear them as wedding rings and as symbols of Irish heritage. Dipper wore it as both, despite the prevailing cultural trait that only women wore engagement rings in the United States, in the same configuration as she wore hers. It was a statement to her in no uncertain terms: as far as he (and she) was concerned, they were already effectively married, even if they had to wait another year or so to make it official. More than that, he loved her as much as she loved him, and didn't care who knew it.

"Oh, yes," she said to the air around her. "I'm definitely marrying him come next August."

-------------------------------------------

Dipper sauntered out of the 7-11, shopping bag with two Reese's Fast Breaks and Vanilla Coke. It was completely unhealthy to be sure, but it was their favorite candy bar and bottle of soda.

He was opening his car door when he felt cold metal press into the small of his back.

"Act normal," a deep, yet familiar male voice said from behind him. "Come with me, or I pull this trigger."

Dipper sighed, fear flaring up in his gut. For a moment, he tried to think of ways that he could turn and attack his assailant before he could discharge his weapon. None presented themselves.

The man behind him patted his shoulder and gestured with his head, no doubt as a show for the security camera covering the parking lot. Dipper walked slowly, being guided by the hand on his shoulder and the gun pressed against his back, into the alleyway across the street.

As soon as they were out of sight, he was turned around roughly and pressed up against the brick wall to see a hugely muscled, dark-skinned man staring at him. There were also five other men, all of which he hadn't seen in four years, including a brown skinned man with balding hair and a huge red scar down the side of his right temple.

"Killbone," he said, glaring. "Scarhead. Gone down in the world, have you? You're not soldiers of the Mighty Gideon anymore, so you're back to petty theft and street crime?"

Killbone laughed derisively. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? You, your bitch of a sister, and that blonde whore of yours."

Dipper, seeing red, angrily moved off the wall, only to feel the wind knocked out of him as Killbone, punched him hard in the gut, sending him reeling back against the wall.

"Nope," Killbone said darkly. "You'll leave that wall when we're finished with you, and not one second before. Now we have a new employer, someone you've been investigating. You've been getting close to some things he'd rather keep hidden, so we're here to dissuade you."

Dipper coughed out a laugh. "If a demonic being from another dimension with powers beyond mortal comprehension couldn't make that threat work with me, what the hell makes you think I'm afraid of a bunch of thugs like you?"

Killbone laughed. "Good point. But we have a different handle. That leggy blonde of yours, you know the one you met in Gravity Falls?"

"I know who she is, thanks," Dipper bit out, resisting the sudden urge to try to throttle him.

"Good," he said, nodding, before gesturing with his head to Scarhead. "Because my buddy and I saw you out with her in Joaquin Miller Park, on that waterfall trail? I'll admit you have good tastes. Wish I had a blonde like her when I was your age. I bet she's a good lay too, huh?"

Dipper, incandescent, attempted to push himself off the wall again only to have Killbone stick his Beretta under his neck, shoving him roughly against the wall.

"Listen boy," he said, growling. "The only reason you're still alive is because if we killed you, the cops would find your investigation rather quickly and they'd find out those secrets themselves. We can't have that happen again, now can we? However, if you persist, you may take us down, but we will take her with us. Now, stop digging and don't go to the police, or the next time that hot little blonde of yours sticks her head outside we'll put a bullet through it."

"And you don't think the same thing will happen if Pacifica is murdered?"

"Oh, I have no doubt that it will, boy," Killbone said darkly, as he and his thugs moved away from him, walking down the alley. "But like I said, you may take us down, but we're taking her with us when we go. Think about that on your way back home, whether or not this investigation is worth her life."

Then they were gone.

Dipper pushed himself off the wall, only to have the full enormity of what they had said hit him with a punch as bad as Killbone's. My God, my God, he thought to herself, as terror seized him in its grip. They got that close. They could have killed her right then. Tears began to run down his face as the unthinkable ran through his head. No matter how bad he'd taken Jessica's certain murder, he couldn't imagine his life without Pacifica now. She was the light of his life, and the steady rock beneath his feet. Without her, he'd stumble, and fall, and never get up again.

He ran back to his truck.

---------------------------------

Pacifica Northwest paced anxiously in Dipper's bedroom, after listening to her fiancé recount his terrifying encounter with Killbone and his group of thugs. The group of thugs he'd inherited, after she killed a quarter of their number, including their leader Ghost Eyes, during what, as far as she knew, was still called up in Oregon, the Siege of the Mystery Shack, Gideon's last desperate attempt to seize ultimate power and Mabel for himself. Now four years later, they'd drifted down into California, into the Bay Area, and were now working for the Epicurean Club.

On the one hand, she thought, assaulting Dipper had been a spectacularly stupid move, confirming all our worst suspicions about what the Club's been up too. On the other hand, it's also a desperate move, we're close to something, so close that they're willing to warn us off openly, in the hopes we'll drop everything out of fear for our lives.

"Paz," Dipper said, from where he was lying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, sounding for all the world like a man who had resigned himself to taking the worst of all possible options. "I've been thinking about it and I want to recall Wendy and the others and drop the whole thing."

For one long moment, Pacifica stared at him, hardly daring to believe the words coming out of his mouth. She couldn't believe it. Dipper. Her Dipper, backing down from scum like them?

"What?" Pacifica said, utter disbelievingly. "What did you say?"

"I said, 'I want to recall Wendy and the others and drop the whole thing.'"

Pacifica stared at him in shock before anger flooded her. "Are you serious?" She said darkly. "After they've proved our worst fears about them. And now you want to just drop it, let them keep doing what they're doing? Let them defile your mother's restaurant; make her an accessory to the murder of children. Is that what I'm hearing from you? Really?"

"Pacifica," Dipper said, voice cracking with something she almost never heard on his voice, fear. Not just fear. Terror. "They got close enough to watch us making out in Joaquin Miller yesterday. They were close enough to blow both our brains out. If they could do that, then they can easily make good on their threat to kill you if we keep this up."

"So?!" Pacifica snapped. "So what? Dipper, they're eating people. Children. They murdered our closest friend's sister, and you want to back down?"

"There's nothing we can do for her now!" Dipper snapped. "I can however, save your life!"

"Damn it, Dipper!" Pacifica said, her hands clenching into fists so hard her nails dug into her skin. "Compared to what these bastards are doing," she growled, ignoring the pain, "my life is a pretty small sacrifice to pay! They have to be stopped and I'd rather die than live with the guilt and the shame that I let these people murder hundreds? Thousands? To save my own worthless hide?" And if you really think I'd do that, then you don't really know the real me at all, do you Dipper?

"You're not worthless, Paz!" Dipper growled.

"And I refuse to be, what was it you called me, 'another link in the world's worst chain?' Because that's what I'll be if I let them keep doing what they're doing to save my own ass! I'm not worth that, and we aren't worth that."

"Damn it, Pacifica, I can't lose you!" Dipper wailed, barely restrained terror on his voice as his eyes glistened with tears. "I can't! I'm not strong enough. And if that makes me a coward, then fine. I'm a coward," he delivered the last line with a strangled voice as he stared pleadingly at her.

Pacifica stared at him for a long moment. Damn it, Pacifica. Can you really honestly say that your positions were reversed you wouldn't be this scared about him. Yesterday you were terrified that this latest mystery was going to take him from you. Why is his terror at the thought of losing you so unbelievable?

"Dipper," she said, shamed, a moment later. "I'm sorry. I know you're scared. And I know you don't want to lose me. Hell, I don't want to lose you. Not really, if our positions were reversed, I'd be doing the exact same thing." And that was the truth. She was honestly, sincerely as scared of the thought of losing him as he was her, and she'd probably be just as irrational right now. "And I also know that you don't really want to stop this. You don't really want to let them get away with this."

"No, I don't," Dipper said, woodenly. "But how do we keep them from-"

"From killing me? We'll cross that bridge when and if we come to it. But Dipper, you know I'm right. Even if I do end up dying, if it prevents what we now know to be happening, you know it's worth it."

"I know," Dipper said, nodding, tears running down his face, "And you're right we shouldn't stop, but that doesn't change the fact that I can't, I mean I don't-"

"Know how to live without me?" Pacifica finished, walking over to him and sitting next to him, pulling him into her embrace. "To be honest, I don't know how the hell I'd get through my life without you either. But neither one of us is dead yet, and as long as I'm alive, I'll continue to be your strength, if you will continue to be mine."

"Always," Dipper whispered. "For as long as I live."

"So," Pacifica said. "We keep fighting?"

Dipper nodded. "We keep fighting." She heard Dipper draw a long, shuddering breath before pulling himself out of her embrace. "All right, then," he said, still shaky but with his confidence returning. "I'm going to call Wendy, apprise her of what happened, tell them to be extra careful."

Pacifica smiled desperately, unwilling to give up or not, the thought of dying like that still terrified her. "And I probably shouldn't go outside today."

----------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting the west as Wendy finished gluing the rest of the local foliage, mainly bits of corn stalk and dried grass onto her ghillie suit. She wiped the sweat off her brow, thanking God she wasn't allergic to her camouflage facepaint, trying to clamp down on the worrying call she'd received earlier in the day.

The bastards know about us, she thought angrily. Which means they probably know we're coming.

Not that they should just abandon this mission. She could do it on her own authority, certainly, but she was certain to catch hell from Dipper. Particularly now that, whatever they did, Pacifica's life was now at stake.

Damn them, she thought. She looked at Mabel. Dipper's sister looked like she wanted to personally drive back to Piedmont and start busting heads.

It may come to that, Wendy thought to herself. And if it does, God help anyone who gets in her way.

"You ready, Mabel?" She said aloud.

"I'm ready, Wendy," she said thickly. "God knows I'd rather be home right now, but I'm ready."

She turned to view Robbie and Tambry as they made finishing touches to each other's facepaint camouflage. She smiled at the sight despite herself. However bad a boyfriend he'd been to her, he had clearly learned his lesson where Tambry was concerned. They were looking at each other with something very close to total admiration, something she'd rarely seen before. She'd seen it on her parent's faces before her mother had died, and Dipper and Pacifica could hardly keep their eyes, or, for that matter, their hands, off each other.

And she'd never experienced it for herself. Oh, she'd dated, hooked up, and she was far from a virgin, but she'd never known such a profound love. There was a very good chance, a chance that, she realized now, had been far higher than she'd previously thought, that they might not return from this mission.

She wanted to say something, but couldn't. Right here, in public, on mission she couldn't afford to show any weakness, couldn't afford to portray herself as anything less than perfect. Or there would be casualties.

"We all ready?" Wendy asked. Mabel and the others nodded. "Good. Let's do this."

"Good luck, guys," Thompson said from behind them in the driver's seat. "Godspeed."

Wendy smiled, as she and the others grabbed their Remington rifles (they may not all be hunters, but they all had some experience shooting, even if it was only on a firing range) and slung them over their backs. "Thanks, Thompson. You too. See you on the other side."

They slid out of the back of the van and disappeared into the underbrush on the other side of the road as Thompson pulled away from the curb and drove back down the road towards town. Wendy watched as Thompson's car disappeared down the road.

"All right," Wendy said. "Mabel, take point and let's go."

Mabel nodded and moved out, six feet ahead of them, where she was more likely to spot objects of interest, like thugs working for the enemy, random civilians, or the mountain lions that occasionally came out of the mountains.

The small team quietly stalked through the underbrush to the northwest.

Six Hours Later

It was about midnight when, long after they had put on and activated their night vision goggles, repainting the world from pitch black to green light, when Wendy smelled Briarwood Farm, before she saw it. In the nightmares she had about this night, and she would have nightmares for the rest of her life, that awful smell would always be the first thing she remembered. The overpowering combination of feces and urine. Human feces and urine.

"Guys," Mabel shouted from her point position at the edge of the small forest, her mouth pinched in revulsion at the sent. "I think we're here."

Wendy mentally sighed with relief. They'd been on the move for six hours, and her feet, legs and back were killing her. She was fairly sure her feet were swelling, and she wouldn't dare take her boots off to check because if they were swelling she wouldn't be able to get them back on again. Fortunately, apart from a rather rushed sprint across a rice paddy, things had been fairly uneventful.

Now, her, Robbie, and Tambry sprinted forward again, ignoring the pain in their limbs, morbidly eager to see the farm they'd been headed towards the entire time. Wendy looked out through the edge of the forest, and brought her binoculars to her eyes.

It certainly looked like an ordinary farm, in the sense that there was a farmhouse, lit from within, she could see, and half a dozen barns lined up in a row to the left of the farmhouse. But she also saw what she thought were several rows of sheds at the far end, behind the barn. And that stench, that godawful stench, that forced its way up her nostrils and made her want to vomit up everything she ever ate.

My God, she thought to herself, what must be going on in there?

"I don't see any security cameras," Mabel whispered softly. "Do we move into the farm or not?"

"All right," she said, fighting her gag reflex, even as she unslung her rifle. "We move in. Make for the center barn first, out of sight of the farmhouse. Mabel, take point."

Mabel nodded, and unslung her own rifle before moving silently out of the underbrush. When Mabel had gotten six feet out, Wendy and the others pushed out of the underbrush after her, rifles out, creeping stealthily through the long grass towards the barn.

As they moved towards the barn, the stench continued to get worse and worse, until her eyes began to water.

Up ahead, Mabel reached the barn window, and peered inside. Her entire posture stiffened and she backed away slowly, turning around and frantically gesturing her forward.

Wendy nodded, turning to face Robbie and Tambry.

"I'm going on up ahead," Wendy said, fighting back a fit of coughs. "Stay here, watch our backs."

"Right," Robbie said, grunting in discomfort, yet he and Tambry turned away from her and bought their rifles up.

Wendy wheeled about and sprinted up to Mabel.

"What is it," she whispered. "What's wrong?"

"Look in there," she whispered, her voice trembling. "And tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing."

Wendy, perturbed, inched forward, and peered into the darkened barn.

"My God," she whispered, the implications forcing their way into her along with the stench.

From one end of the barn to another, there were racks of both boys and girls clothing: shirts, jeans, skirts, slacks, all neatly arranged as though they were in the clothing section at Wal-Mart, and all in the sizes one would expect of children between the ages of seven and twelve.

"Where are the kids then?" Mabel whispered softly, and it was clear she was fighting back tears, even if her eyes were covered by her goggles.

Wendy put a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. "Hey," she said, as reassuringly as she could, considering she was fighting back tears herself, "Hey, we'll put a stop to it. That's why we're here."

"Yeah," Mabel said, shuddering, "yeah. Where's that godawful smell coming from, though?" Mabel looked around her. "I don't' think it's coming from the barns. She looked to her left. "The sheds maybe?"

Wendy looked at the sheds and fought down a sudden lump in her throat as she saw the three rows of eight sheds just sitting out there. They had windows, she could now discern, and they were dimly lit from within.

"Let's go," Wendy said softly, and the two of them sprinted back to the others and all four of them moved towards the sheds.

As they got closer to their target, a corner shed out of direct line of sight of the farmhouse, the reek of feces, urine, and stale sweat got worse.

"What could be going on in there?" She heard Robbie ask, voice breaking.

"Let's find out, shall we?" Wendy said. "Goggles off." She hit the power button on her goggles and crept forward, peering into the dimly lit shed, and stood there, stock still, stunned into a revolted, horrified, silence by what she witnessed.

Sitting in the dimly lit shed were sixteen cages, barely large enough to house a human being sitting down. And in each one, each and every one, was a child, of every skin color, between the ages of seven and twelve, sitting, bound and naked in their own filth. Each cage was connected to a mechanical hopper connected to a feeding tube shoved down each child's throat. Hanging outside each cage was an IV hooked into each one of their arms

"My God," she heard Mabel say next to her. "It's Jessica, on the right side of the room. She's alive."

Wendy stunned out of her reverie scanned the room on either side. And saw her. She was bound to the floor with a feeding tube down her neck like the other children, but her eyes were open, and she was still breathing.

"I'm getting them out of there," Mabel growled before tearing herself away from the window and making run out front to the shed door. Wendy tore herself away from the sight herself and started off after her.

"Mabel," Robbie said quickly, grabbing her arm to stop her. "Wait."

"Let go of me, Robbie," she bit out. "We need to get them out of there."

"And we will," Wendy said quickly, as Mabel fought against Robbie's grasp. "But not like this. Not now."

"What do you mean not now?!" She whispered furtively. "You saw what they're doing to them! They're fattening them up like geese for pate de foie gras." Her eyes widened at the sudden realization. "My God, that's what in the pate. Pate is liver, their livers. Oh, my God," she finished in a strangled voice and she resumed fighting against Robbie's grip.

"Mabel," she growled low. "Mabel, we can't do this now."

"Why not?!"

Wendy sighed. "Do you see the other sheds here. There's twenty-four sheds, and if there's sixteen children to a shed, that means there's three hundred and eighty-four children being held here. You understand that? Three hundred and eighty-four. Say we manage to get one of them out, hell we manage to get all sixteen out of there? When the staff realizes people are missing, what do you imagine will happen to the other three hundred and sixty-eight? They'll likely all be dead by the time help gets back here."

"How do you figure that?"

"Mabel," Robbie said, breaking in, "Towards the end of the Second World War, when Soviet forces were moving through Poland, retreating German forces were desperate to erase all evidence of the Holocaust before it could fall into the hands of Allied forces. They killed everyone they could, burned as much of the evidence as they could, and force marched the survivors to camps in Germany and Austria proper. Now, it's doubtful they could get away with all that, but don't you think that they'll kill everyone left here and burn this place to the ground, go underground for a couple months, and re-establish another place just like this somewhere else? Our only chance to save all of them, including Jessica and put a stop to this once and for all, is to record it. Then hightail it out of here before anyone notices it. We show it to the police and they can storm this place when they're not expecting it, put an end to all of this."

Mabel stilled, crumpling a bit. Robbie grabbed and steadied her.

"I'm going to record this," Mabel said, softly. Robbie gently let her go, and Wendy watched as she pulled her Kindle Fire out of her jacket pocket and began fiddling with the apps, setting it to the camera mode before pulling off the cover to expose the rear camera.

Before she could bring it up however, a floodlight near the farmhouse suddenly burst into life, flooding the area with white light as punctuated bursts of shouting cut through the night.

"Oh, shit," Wendy growled, bringing her rifle up, "we have to go right now. If we stay to record, they'll be on top of us before we can get away."

"But-"

"Now!" She whispered furtively

Mabel sighed and hastily collected her discarded Kindle cover before sprinting towards the underbrush nearest the sheds. Wendy and the others following after.

Eight hours later

Dipper stared up at the pattern of the paint on his ceiling, feeling Pacifica's sleeping body against his chest. Both of them hadn't gotten much sleep that night, only getting it in fits and starts. It's difficult to sleep peacefully when someone's threatened the life of you or someone you love mere hours earlier. And as for Wendy, Mabel, Robbie, and Tambry? Were they okay? Were they even still alive or had they run into enemy resistance and been slaughtered to a man?

He may had been terrified over losing Pacifica, but if he lost Mabel he'd shut down just as badly too.

He turned his head over, glancing at his alarm clock. It was 8:45 in the morning on Saturday. They weren't due to be reported missing until Monday evening. He didn't know if he could wait that long.

Abruptly his phone vibrated on his night desk. He grabbed it hastily to see Mabel's picture on the phone and the text message icon. Sighing in relief, he opened the message

It was a short, terse message that filled him with dread when he saw it.

We've discovered what's going on at Briarwood Farm. Be there in 15 minutes. God help us all.

Fifteen minutes later, Mabel, Wendy, Robbie, and Tambry were gathered in his room, as Wendy and Mabel finished recounting the horrors they had just witnessed.

Dipper sat at his desk, sick to his stomach at what they were describing. And that he had been so nearly cowed into letting people capable of doing what they were doing get away with such an act. Pacifica had been right, more right then even she'd realized at the time, to get as angry as she'd been at him.

More than that, Jessica Ocampo was still alive.

"Guys," Dipper said a moment later. "We need to put a stop to it."

"Yes," Pacifica said, eyes still glistening with tears at Wendy and Mabel's description. "But how? They were forced to retreat before they could gather any evidence, and our story, without proof, seems simply too unbelievable to go to the police with without any of said evidence to back it up."

Dipper sighed, leaning back in his chair. Pacifica was right. Which led to what he was about to say now.

"You're right," Dipper said. "Which means we're going to have to work outside the law to put a stop to it."

"Ladies and gentleman," Dipper said softly, as the sheer magnitude of that decision washed over him. "We're going to have to attack Briarwood ourselves."