Dipper pulls out his flashlight and shines it in Wild Eyes Joe’s face.

Wild Eyes Joe releases Dipper’s shoulder, covers his eyes, and screams. “There’s a miniature sun in his hands!” he shouts. “He’s a witch!”

“Everyone, now!” yells Dipper. “Distract them with our future stuff!”

Mabel grabs a handful of glitter and blows it at the outlaws.

“AAAH! Witch powder!” screams one outlaw.

The others try to brush the glitter off themselves, but it’s stuck to their dusters.

Blendin reaches in his pockets and finds a laminated ID. He shakes it at the outlaws. They back away from him and scream, shielding their faces.

“It’s smooth like glass! But it bends like a Turkish dancer!” one screams before leaping face-first out a plate-glass window.

“Get your devil toys away from us, witches!” yells Wild Eyes Joe.

Blendin and the twins back toward the door.

Mabel points at the minions and says, “Stay back! Stay back or we’ll use our powers to turn you into muffins! Or force you to kiss each other!”

The outlaws cringe.

“On the count of three, we’re gonna make a run for it,” whispers Dipper.

Mabel and Blendin nod.

“Okay,” says Dipper. “One…two…thr—”

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!” says someone with a booming voice.

Dipper, Mabel, and Blendin whirl around.

Shopkeeper Sprott has gathered a witch-hunting posse. “Now, I knew y’all were witches since I first laid eyes on you,” he says, “so I gathered up this here huntin’ squad to send you back to Lucifer’s claws, where y’all belong.” He laughs. “Let’s burn ’em up, boys.”

The glaring townsfolk take hold of the twins and Blendin and drag them toward the town square. They set them up on a pyre and stack kindling beneath.

Dipper looks at Blendin. “Well, now we’re being burned at the stake. Really awesome adventure, Blendin. Five stars.”

Blendin stammers, “I-I’m sorry, I guess I got carried away looking for this treasure. Should we just go home instead?”

“Absolutely,” say the twins in unison.

Blendin pulls the time tape and they disappear in an electric-blue flash. Shopkeeper Sprott stands quietly for a moment and shrugs. “Welp, I reckon we’ve all been touched by the hand of the devil himself,” he says.

The mob turns his way.

The twins and Blendin arrive back in Gravity Falls. They pat down the remaining sparks in their clothes, and Dipper and Mabel say good-bye to Blendin. On their walk home, they pass by Farmer Sprott, who’s raising a scarecrow.

Dipper pauses. “Hey, can I ask you why you hate witches so much?”

“Why, yes, you can,” Farmer Sprott says. “I reckon it’s ’cause my great-great-great-great-grandpappy way out west was burnt alive for letting a group o’ witches escape, and my family has sworn to avenge him going on seven generations now!”

“Huh,” says Mabel. She looks at Dipper. “Do you think we should feel bad?”

Dipper shrugs. “Well, if the Farmer Sprott we knew already hated witches, that means that this chain of events we just experienced was bound to happen regardless, and had happened before we even experienced it.”

“And therefore, free will is an illusion!” says Mabel. “Yay!”

The twins silently stare into the distance for a minute.

“Let’s never discuss time travel again,” says Dipper.

“Deal,” says Mabel.

THE END.