Chapter Text
“No, no, Spitfire. Like this. You gotta move your fingers to the string below and press the one up top-“
Your father’s gentle, calloused hands correct your position on the neck of the guitar. Your hair is wild and wispy, tied up in a high ponytail as you sit on the back porch with him to practice guitar chords.
Your little brows furrow, concentrating hard as you watch your father’s movements on his own guitar. Sans thinks you’re an adorable little kid, and he watches you try to copy the notes, but it’s difficult. Your hands feel small on this guitar, but it’s the only extra your father has for you to practice on.
He can see the frustration growing on your face, and he smiles softly. Setting his guitar to the side, he sits down beside you and gently puts his fingers alongside yours as best as he can while you strum the guitar.
His voice is scratchy and rough, but still carries a good note as he sings softly, “On a warm summer’s evening, On a train bound for nowhere, I met up with the gambler. We were both too tired to sleep, So we took turns a-starin’, Out the window at the darkness. The boredom overtook us, And he began to speak…~”
Your big hazel eyes watch his fingers closely, and you look up at your father with a look of pure adoration. He smiles, continuing to play along with you, and you start singing along with him as a gust of wind blows the hot summer air across the both of you.
A door creaks open behind you, and you instantly freeze. A woman’s voice carries out over your father’s singing, “All right you too, supper’s ready! Gale’s already inside. Skylar, do you want some of that sweet tea you like?”
You find it difficult to speak, so your father turns around just enough to give her a winning smile, “Sound’s perfect, Mary. Give us a couple minutes and we’ll be in.”
There’s a distinct shift in her voice, as if she is exasperated, “All right. Don’t wait too long, or it’ll get cold.”
Her footsteps retreat and the door closes. You’re staring out in the backyard with a tense frown, and your father sighs.
“Y’know if you just give her a chance, I think you’d like Mary.”
“I don’t come here to visit Mary, Daddy. I come here to visit you.”
He frowns; you dare not look up at him, but you can hear it in his voice. How disappointed he is. How he’s been tired of having this same conversation with you throughout the month of you visiting. You only have a few days left here before you have to go back home, and that’s a three day drive you’re not looking forward to.
Sans feels a familiar ache in his chest; the longing of what you had before. Mary isn’t your mother…she’s the reason your Dad left. Your family has been splintered apart, and there’s nothing you can do to fix it.
“Now mind yourself little lady. C’mon, Mary’s been working on dinner for a long while, we don’t want to waste her good cookin’. Go on and wash up.”
The capital was crowded, but it was home. Dark, gray, and full of monsters. Noisey near always, and in the shadow of the castle where the King Asgore resided.
Sans walked into the small apartment he shared with his younger brother and…
His bone brows scrunch together in pain, the thought escaping him - but it’s easily passed over by Papyrus barreling into the living room upon hearing the front door open. The younger skeleton has on a red and white striped shirt, with a small bandana around his neck.
Papyrus is just too cute! Heh.
“SANS!”
The older skelebrother can feel his chest grow warm with affection, “‘sup, lil bro?”
“HOW WAS SCHOOL?” the tiny skeleton shouts, looking up at Sans with big, glittery eyes.
Papyrus would get to start school in the next couple of months; but until then, he was so very excited to hear all about it from his older brother.
Sans wasn’t going to tell Paps that he slept through half of his classes, though. So instead he shrugs with an easy grin, “was okay. same old, same old. but my calculus book was lookin’ pretty sad.”
Papyrus gasped, before looking at Sans long and hard. He shuffled forward, narrowing his eye sockets, “BUT…HOW DOES - WHY WOULD A BOOK FEEL SAD? WAS SOMEONE TURNING THE PAGES TOO FAST?!”
Sans snorts, then boops Papyrus’s forehead with a barely-there tap of his boney finger, “nah. book was sad ‘cause it had too many problems.”
“WHAT? WHAT …PR…PROBLum?”
Sans sighs lightly, then says, “problems” to help Papyrus sound out the word. He can get caught up on things sometimes. The pun may have gone unnoticed, but Sans is rather proud of that one.
Looking into the kitchen, Sans pokes around the pantry and the fridge, not finding much as he listens to Papyrus prattle on in the background about something.
Not a whole lot of food. Sans will skip dinner tonight, he’ll be fine.
It isn’t the first time he’s had to do it. And he would continue to do it, if it meant Papyrus got to eat.
“hey paps, how you feel about spaghetti?”
“OOOOOH! SANS YOU KNOW I LOVE SPAGHETTI!”
“Momma, Momma!”
You’re running into the kitchen with rapid feet, mindful not to run in the house. It always makes your mom angry when you do that.
She’s standing at the sink washing dishes from dinner; and she turns her head tiredly to look down at you. Bags under her eyes, looking rather thin – she doesn’t look well.
She looks like she’s working herself to the bone.
“What is it Skylar?”
But you, this young and this optimistic, don’t catch on to that. You can hear how tired she is, but mom is always tired. You missed her. She’s been working late tonight, and your brother ended up being in charge until she got home.
Needless to say, your mom walked in on the two of you rough housing on the floor, and she had snapped at the two of you until you were on opposite sides of the room.
It wasn’t your fault though; your brother was mean! Always making fun of you or just pushing you out of the way when he wanted something. You were watching a cartoon and he came in and changed the channel without asking!
Anyway.
You hold up the book you carried with you, and you can feel your mother’s shoulders sag, “I don’t know, Skye. I’m really tired and I work a double tomorrow-“
“Pleeeease?” you whine, and she sighs, scrubbing at a pot with probably too much anger, “Please, Momma? We haven’t read together in a long time-“
“We’ve read The Hobbit at least a dozen times by now, Skye. And aren’t you a little old to be read to?”
You can hear your brother scoff while he walks into the kitchen, sneering down at you, “She’s always gonna be a baby, Ma. Can’t do nothin’ for herself.”
“Hey, I’m not a baby!” your eyes burn, and your mother tells your brother to ‘knock if off’ while he laughs.
“Are too!”
You clutch the book tightly to your chest, and you growl out, “I’m seven, I’m not a baby!”
Gale snorts as he flicks your forehead while passing, “Then stop askin’ Ma to read to you, do it yourself.”
You swat his hand away angrily, and your mother is finishing up the last of the silverware. She looks down at you while the sink drains, “Only for a little while, ok? I’m exhausted and you have school in the morning.”
“‘kay, start with your feet ‘bout shoulder width apart-”
“BUT SANS I WANT TO DO A GRAND ENTRANCE WITH MY MAGIC! MAYBE I CAN SLIDE IN ALL COOL LIKE, AND SHOOT BONES UP FROM THE GROUND BEHIND ME, LIKE A TERRIFYING WALL OF CALCIUM!!”
Papyrus has been in school for about half a year, and has just begun learning how to use his magic in Encounters. However, given that there are no other skeleton monsters at the school, Papyrus had been struggling on how to properly execute any bone-related attacks. In fact…he often ended up hurting others on accident.
It made him very upset, and few monster children wanted to practice with him in that respect.
So, Sans and…..just Sans, would practice with Papyrus in the afternoon when he got back from school. Sans met up with Papyrus at the schoolyard, so they could actually have space.
Bone and gravity magic was very particular to skeleton monsters, so it’s very easy to catch on. Just need to be able to practice.
Sans feels a bead of sweat trickle down along the side of his skull, “heh, well. we can do fancier tricks later. would be smarter to start small.”
Papyrus pouts, and Sans feels his smirk twitch. Walking over, he gives his brother a little nudge with his elbow, “c’mon, buddy. Start from the top. magic is all about intent, you just gotta will what you want into manifesting with your SOUL-“
“BUT THAT’S THE HARD PART. I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE!”
Sans shrugs, then let’s his arm extend palm up. A bone buzzes into existence and floats atop his palm, and Papyrus’ sockets widen eagerly. Sans winks, “don’t think you need me to tell ya what your bones look like, paps. all i did was hit ‘FIGHT’ and my SOUL kicked into awareness, right? then i thought of a bone, to throw.”
Then just as quick, Sans’ eye snaps into a bright, flickering blue, and the bone is launched across the school yard with a flick of his wrist. It lodges itself into a tree, and Papyrus starts jumping up and down excitedly.
“OKAY MY TURN!”
Sans takes a step back, and Papyrus gets his feet into position. He holds out his palm, and his little face scrunches up tight as he focuses over the ‘FIGHT’ option.
A fizzle in the air sends out a cascade of orange sparks, and Sans’ own pupils jump in their sockets as he takes another step back, just to be safe.
And it’s good that he did. The bone Papyrus manages to create shoots straight out of his hand and into the air, like a rocket being launched into the air.
Both brothers stare awkwardly upward until they hear a crash from behind the school; somehow the bone must have launched itself all the way across the building to the back-
There’s raised voices coming from somewhere, and Sans scratches the side of his skull with a small, hesitant chuckle, “heh, let’s get back home, okay?”
“Pick a color, ‘punkin.”
“Hmm….I’m gonna pick yellow!”
“Oh! That’ll be a tough one. All right, I’ll pick green.”
You grin, and your grandpa laughs as he rocks in his chair. The two of you are settled outside in the front yard, where you can see the cows roam in the pasture. About a half mile out, there’s the main road. The two of you will pick a random color and count the cars that pass, and the person who has the most points before chore time wins.
In all actuality there’s not a lot of traffic out here, so it’s rare that either of you get any points.
But you like to sit outside with your grandpa and talk about anything and nothing. He gets quiet often, and says that he likes the peace and quiet that the countryside brings. It’s a lot different than your home in the city with your mom.
You’ve been staying here for the week while your mom ended up getting several double shifts. She needed the money, but wouldn’t be able to properly care for you with how much she’s working. And your brother wasn’t the most reliable, so…a week at grandma and grandpa’s it is.
Your grandpa has been letting you help with more chores lately too, since you’re ten. He let you drive around the little lawn tractor he had to move the smaller hay bales, and that was always fun!
Or mow their massive lawn. That was your least favorite.
You were getting the hang of milking cows, but didn’t like how smelly the barn was. The barn did mean you got to play with the barn kitties though.
“You wanna help me round up the chickens before it gets dark?”
“Yeah!” you chirp, and he chuckles.
“Careful now. If you chase them birds too much, they’ll take to chasin’ you. And ‘ol grandpa here ain’t as spry as he used to be.”
“Aww…okay. Did you want to still build the new coop up by the doghouse? Where it’s more even?”
The current chicken coop got a lot of damage over the summer from all the rain, and grandpa had been making plans to built a new one. You offered to help him do it, and he said that afterward you could go with him to buy some new baby chicks to replace the ones the coyotes got at. They were so cute!
“Heh, the coop might have to wait until next time you visit, but yeah. Gotta make them a new house so they keep stayin’ happy and givin’ me eggs.”
You nod, perking up at the sound of a car passing by, but it was silver. You sigh.
Chewing on your bottom lip, you feel your shoulder hunch and you kick your feet at the grass from where you’re sitting.
“Grandpa…”
You trail off, unsure if you should ask the question you’ve been meaning to, ever since you came here.
“What is it, ‘punkin?”
Deep breath. You shrug, and ask quietly, “What was mom like as a kid? Was she…always as angry as she is now?”
He hums low, and pulls out a case of chewing tobacco. Your nose scrunches up, but he’s always done it since you could remember. Taking a wad he tucks it into his cheek, then puts the container back in his pocket before he speaks, “You know your Ma has been under a lot of stress lately, dontcha? She’s doin’ her best for you. I know it ain’t easy, but give her a little grace, ‘punkin.”
“I know,” you pout. He tuts at you, and you shrug, “I was only wondering. She’s just unhappy a lot, and I don’t know what to do.”
“You just keep goin’ to school and listen’ to her, y’hear? It ain’t always easy but she loves you to pieces. Just like I do.”
You want to tell your grandpa about David. About how he yells a lot, and throws things sometimes when he’s really angry. Or how he and your mom fight all the time. It wasn’t right. They loved each other…shouldn’t they be nice?
But you say nothing. You’re scared of what might happen if you do. You’re mom’s tough, she can do handle it.
Right?
Sans doesn’t remember much, but he remembers pain.
He had been working…somewhere. If he focuses too hard, he gets a migraine on top of the headache already pounding through his skull.
He had woken up in a bed, a hospital looking bed? There were rows and rows of them, and he groaned low as his hands went up to his eye sockets to try and block the light, it hurt so badly-
“S-Sans?”
A voice. He knows her, right?
A small smile, big clunky looking teeth below square glasses. She looks exhausted. Her lab coat is smeared with soot and grime.
“alphys-?” he questions, but ends up coughing uncontrollably. She shushes him gently, and presses her scaly hand to his arm.
Ugh. He’s got no clothes on. At least there’s a sheet covering him up.
“There was an accident in the lab- but we don’t know the cause…” she trails off, seeming to have some wave of discomfort come over her as well.
He was so lost. What…lab? Why was he in a lab?
It hurt. It hurt way too much to think about. His pupils glance to the side, where he can see a large machine that resembled what looked like…a skull?...
“Everyone is shook up r-real bad,” she stammers. Sans flicks his pupils back towards Alphys. He knows her. They went to school together, studied chemistry and physics, before she branched into robotics and himself astrophysics – but wait – why can’t he remember anything else-
“ffuuuuuuuuck,” his skull gives a harsh, sharp burst of pain, and Alphys hovers nervously.
“D-don’t push yourself,” she says, and that’s when Sans finally notices how…nervous she is. Like she’s afraid to tell him something.
He’s good at picking up that kind of stuff.
“what is it, alph?”
Alphys swallows thickly, and goes to the computer nearby. She types in a couple of keys, “Y-you’ve been asleep for a few days now, Sans. We’ve applied a lot of healing magic…but-“
But? But what?
“Something’s wrong with your HP, Sans-“
And the fizzling gets loud, so loud, you can’t focus on this memory anymore, it HURTS-
It’s around eight at night when you first meet David.
Your mom drove you and your brother to Pizza Hut for dinner and said that she had someone she wanted the two of you to meet, so you needed to be on your best behavior.
You’ll never forget that night because your mom got dressed up nice, with make up and everything, for Pizza Hut of all places.
“All right there’s his truck!” she exclaimed as she parked your car. You pulled yourself up to peek out the window, but it was dark, and even so you had no idea what ‘David’s truck looked like.
Your mom had never once mentioned anyone named ‘David’ before, but as you look up in the front and catch her smile in the side mirror, you thought that they must be a nice person, at least.
Gale is scowling in the passenger seat. He’s blaring music from his headphones, and your mom pulls them off of his head much to his indignation. She glares at him, “Don’t even start. David is a nice guy-“
“Mom, you never once talked about this guy until two hours ago. This is stupid!”
“It’s not stupid, Gale. If you can’t say anything nice then just keep your mouth shut. Don’t ruin the evening just because I made you get out of the house for once.”
“Whatever.”
Seemingly satisfied, your mom turns around to look at you, smiling slightly. You can tell she’s excited, but also nervous. You don’t understand why.
“Skylar, you ready?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s my girl.”
David was waiting for you all inside, already seated at a booth. He smiles brightly when your mom approaches, and he stands up to give her a kiss. You’re stunned, and Gale groans beside you, muttering, ‘Are you kidding me?’ under his breath.
David looked…okay. He was taller than Mom, and wore a heavy looking denim jacket that was well worn. Big hulking boots that were really muddy, , and his beard was short and his skin looked…dirty. Kind of. He also had a big mustache that you didn’t like. And his eyes…they were dark, and cold.
Sans wants to keep you away. Far away. But he can’t-
You tried to smile when he finally turned to look at you and Gale. But he didn’t really smile back at you. He looked grumpy. Not like how he looked at Mom.
Your mom turns to you both, and smiles, “Gale, Skylar. This is David! My…fiancé.”
You don’t think you know that word. At least, it’s not immediately recognizable to you, but Gale sputters and yells for the whole restaurant to hear, “WHAT?!”
Papyrus had come to the lab Hotland to take him back to the Capital.
Sans hadn’t left his room in days.
He was tired. He was scared. Papyrus was scared. Papyrus was tired-
Fuck. Sans’ hands are shaking when he looks down at them, his pupils tiny pinpricks as he gives himself a ‘check’ once again.
‘HP: 1’
One hit, no matter the damage output. That’s all it would take to dust him.
Something akin to rage surges inside himself; there’s too much fog clouding his mind, he can’t remember anything that happened that would have explained this and he’s so…so WEAK-
Blue static crackles in the air of his bedroom as it becomes eclipsed in darkness. He seethes, blue flames dancing from his left eye socket.
A rip, a shift in dimensions-
Something doesn’t feel right.
Sans blinks, hard, and feels hot breath fan over his entire body from where he’s sitting, hunched over, in his bed.
He raises his skull, and he’s proud of the way he holds back the scream at the sight of a giant, floating dragon-esque skull staring straight at him, mere inches away from his own body.
Sans is sure he can hear his own bones rattling as sweat drips down his skull. He doesn’t know what this thing is, but the sight of it makes something settle in his SOUL, like…it’s an old friend-
Raising a hand, Sans lets his phalanges graze the underside of the monstrous looking skull, and it fucking purrs at him.
The puppy’s name was Snoopy.
He was a little beagle, and super loud but super cute. Your Grandpa had gotten him for you for Christmas one year, when you were twelve. You had promised to take care of him, and even went about trying to teach him tricks.
Snoopy was really loud at night, but he stayed in your room. You thought that would be enough. Your brother complained and your Mother made comments on how maybe he should sleep outside at night.
You only had three days before David ‘accidentally’ ran him over with his truck one night.
He claims it was an accident. He never apologized.
You were devastated. Your mom told you that you had to forgive him.
You never wanted to own a pet again after that.
Sans can’t stand living in the capital anymore.
It’s cramped. It’s always got a sense of doom and gloom over it. Everyone is slow close together, it doesn’t do Sans’ paranoia any favors. He has been practicing some of his new…attacks, but can never fully let loose. And the fact that his glaring 1HP taunts his fragility everywhere, Sans just wants to get away from everyone.
It’s been years since the last human fell Underground, and monsters were losing hope of ever escaping. It made them antsy. Made them …desperate.
Just one more SOUL, and they’d all be free.
Right.
Sans packs up one bag of belongs, while Papyrus manages to finagle what looks like two or three bags stacked on the other.
They were leaving.
“SANS…”
“yeah, bro?”
“ARE YOU SURE THIS IS A GOOD IDEA?”
“anywhere’s home as long as we’re both together, right? sides, we keep on steppin’ on each other’s toes in this place. we can find someplace better.”
Papyrus sounds so unsure, and Sans can’t stand it.
But there's something missing here and it doesn't feel like home anymore. it feels suffocating.
They need to leave.
Just wait. He’ll see. It’ll be better.
Sans has heard of a place that never stops snowing. Sounds pretty isolated to him.
A crash – shattering glass, thunderous feet.
You’re panicking. You didn’t mean to drop it-
“What the- Oh for Fuck’s sake Skylar, all you had to do was put the damn dishes away!”
“I know, I’m sorry David, it- it just slipped-“
“It slipped? That’s the third time you’ve broken a dish around here, and who fucking has to replace them?! YOU?! DO YOU?”
“…No-“
“No. You don’t have to pay for shit, yet you keep being so fucking clumsy-“
David steps closer, you can see his hand is raising and you glare at him, spitefulness winning over fear and he hates it when you do that-
His hand comes down hard, but it never makes contact. Your mom is there, shoving David back with a snarl. “You don’t get to touch my kids, you son of a bitch. How many times have I told you?!”
Your mom is in front of you and pushes you back, out towards the living room. She’s distracted David again, you know this routine, but you don’t want to leave her here with him, especially when he’s looking like that-
“Then tell YOUR daughter to stop fucking things up! She can’t do simple chores without breaking shit-“
“Oh give me a break. At least she does something around the house unlike you, just drinking our money away-“
“What the fuck did you just say to me?”
The words are deathly cold, and you can only watch in horror as he slaps your mom so hard that she ends up on the floor. You panic, and cry out, rushing to her side but you end up not making it that far.
Your mom barks at you through her rapidly swollen lip, “Skylar, go to your room.”
“But – but Mom-“
“GO!”
The first time he successfully took a ‘short-cut’, Sans had nearly lost himself in The Void.
He knew what it was…in theory.
A space between realities, the thing that connects everything and nothing all at once.
It wasn’t a nice place, really. But.
But, but, but….something else is there, he can feel it. But he can’t put a name to it.
And if he tries to hard, it’s that feeling again – like his skull will be cracked in two.
Anyway.
He had been charging his magic, and grown frustrated and he…he remembers he wanted to go home, but was too exhausted to walk-
And before he knew it, there was a cut through the air, like scissors snipping across the open expanse of snow in front of him. It was a black sliver, spreading wide into a dark and terrible emptiness, beckoning him through.
It was like…thousands of hands, reaching out to take him away and he almost, almost considered it-but Papyrus’s face springs to mind, and he can’t leave his little brother.
He can envision it in his mind; his house. Sans shuffles a foot forward, just across the edge of the seam of the tear. But then he’s tumbling through darkness, down, down, down, screaming because it’s never ending, like the shadows are going to swallow him whole and he shouldn’t have done this, what was he thinking-
A spark of blue, and a crash of red, and Sans ends up being spat out of the other side of the hole, right onto the roof of his house in Snowdin.
He vomits all over the panels.
It’s your fifteenth birthday.
You’re sitting by the phone, staring out the window as the snow falls. There’s no cars out on the roads right now. Everything is drowning in snow. School is already canceled for tomorrow.
Gale stumbles through the living room, and doesn’t notice you at first. He’s got a bottle of something hanging from one hand, while the other has – ugh. It smells so bad.
“Mom said she didn’t want you smoking that in the house,” you tell him, bitterly. Gale nearly jumps out of his skin, then scoffs while flicking some of the ash your way. You scramble back a little on the couch as he slurs out some formulation of words.
“Fuck off, Skye,” he takes a long drag, blowing the smoke all around the living room obnoxiously, “Mom ain’t home, so who cares?”
Your brother graduated high school last year, and so far has done nothing whatsoever with his life besides drink, smoke pot, and bring home random girls every so often. You hate how much he sucks the life out of this already dead house.
“I’ll do what I want, ‘cause no one here will stop me, least of all you,” he makes his way to the kitchen and slams his bottle in the recycling pin, making your features pinch. You turn away and go back to staring out the window. David will be pissed if he finds out Gale has been drinking his beer. But then again, with how much David drinks, he probably won’t even notice.
Gale wanders back through the living room to head upstairs, but stops. He narrows his eyes at you, and you ignore him, can feel the way he’s trying to figure out what you’re up to-
And then it clicks for him and he lets out a terribly, ugly laugh. Your whole body tightens up defensively, refusing to engage with him.
“Holy fuck, no way. Are you seriously waiting on our deadbeat dad to call you?” he laughs, taking another pull from the blunt dangling between his fingers, “He won’t call. He never will, Skye, he fuckin’ left us here to rot with our mom, don’t you get that?”
“He called last year,” you say, and Gale makes some kind of ‘oooo’ sound, making your hackles rise. You glare at him finally, and he grins. You bite out, “He called last year, he’ll call again-“
“No! No he won’t. ‘Cause he didn’t call for Christmas, or my birthday. He’s done with us, we’re old enough now that he doesn’t have to give a shit. He hasn’t even seen us since like, fuckin’, five years now?”
“Just shut up, Gale. He’s gonna call.”
“Right. Sure. Lemme know when he does call, so then I can ask him how life’s goin’ for him.”
Your dad didn’t call.
Grillby’s was quickly becoming Sans’ favorite place to be.
The skeleton brothers have lived in Snowdin for a good eight years now. Paps was training with Undyne, and somehow got Sans’ roped in to sentry work that he had no real interest in doing. But, it let him keep an eye on things, as well as make sure his brother didn’t get into too much trouble.
Plus, bein’ out in the middle of nowhere with less prying eyes, he could practice his magic.
But lately he’s had this feeling that he’s forgetting something.
It’s an itch. Like a fly buzzing in his skull that he can’t knock out.
The days just keep…repeating. He swears that the people around her say the same things over and over, or he’s at least heard them. Sans walks the same path, day in and day out, even if it felt like he did it ten minutes ago.
Sans pulls the bottle of whiskey closer with a hum.
Grillby wanders nearby, eyeing the skeleton and also taking stock of his bottle. Sans gives him a wink as he pours himself another glass.
“say grillbz,” Sans waves him over, and Grillby takes a few steps while crossing his arms, expectant. Sans taps his phalanges on the counter top as he speaks, “you’re a smart guy. got a real spark about ya. lemme ask ya somethin’.”
The fire elemental tips his head, signaling to Sans that he’s listening. Sans’ grin ticks at the edges, and he takes a long pull from his glass before letting it thump back on the bartop.
“don’t it feel like we’ve done all this before?” he waves a hand distractedly around him, and Grillby only stares. Sans feels his knee start to shake, “de ja vu and all that, but it’s more. like we’re just followin’ some scene from a play, or a movie. and someone keeps pressin’ rewind ‘cause they reaaaally like this part. ya get me?”
The flames atop Grillby’s head twist and crackle, and Sans sighs, “i know that not much happens ‘round here, but that’s the point – it can’t feel like this. this same thing, me sittin here drinkin’ at dusk just cause i had a long day of work that i don’t even remember doin’.”
Grillby shifts, and there’s a low sound of embers bursting. Sans finishes the drink and his tone grows low and empty, “yeah. yer right. prolly just tired.”
“SING US A SONG, you’re the piano man! Sing us a song toniiiight~! Well, we’re all in the mood for a melody, And you’ve got us feelin’ alright~!”
You’re older. You’re in one of those random apartments again that Sans doesn’t recognize. This is fleeting, but for some reason your SOUL is choosing this memory, so he watches closely, even if he hates it because someone’s hands are all over you-
You’re laughing airily as you tumble onto the bed, the guy’s hands are finding their way under your clothes messily, no finesse at all. You’re eyes are red and glossy, and the air is thick with the smell of that same stuff that your brother was smoking, it’s awful, like a skunk-
“Fuck, you’re cute,” the guy breathes hotly against your neck, and you giggle aimlessly as you continue caterwauling to the ceiling. He’s sliding off your pants and fucking, Sans doesn’t want to see you with someone else, it burns something fierce in him that he can’t ignore-
“Oh la, la-la, di-di-daaaa~” you snicker, not fully present in the room. You feel floaty, and that’s good, that’s what you want.
You don’t want to pay attention to what’s about to happen.
“Keep on singin’, sweetie. You got a nice voice,” he sucks a kiss into your neck, and your eye lashes flutter dazedly.
“Can I- Can I stay here? After?” you mumble, and the man huffs against your shoulder.
“Depends on how good a fuck you are, I suppose. If you’re good, you can suck me off before you leave tomorrow.”
You don’t want to sleep out on the street again. Determination flickers across your face, and you get lost in the next kiss while pouring more effort into it. Billy Joel keeps playing like a mantra in your mind, helping you disconnect from the hand pulling off your underwear-
Sans doesn’t want to see this anymore-
He told the kid a ‘secret secret’ codeword, in the hopes of proving that he wasn’t crazy.
Turns out time travel is real. The photo album back in his lab is a burning thought in his mind, of faces of people he knows he used to know, but hasn’t a clue who they are. He had always suspected…something.
Like the searing pain that shoots through him whenever he tries to think of what happened in the lab, that day, when his world got turned upside down.
There’s a lot he still doesn’t understand. But
Seems a pretty cruel twist of fate that his fate is in the hands of a child, though-
It feels like his world is shattering apart, and there’s a blinding white light---
There’s a faint melody playing in the background as you stand there before the door.
A door that’s dark brown, mahogany even, with electric-neon flames dancing out from underneath it.
You’ve done it again, but you don’t know how; your SOUL has sent you into this little safety pocket. A piece of The Void that is yours.
Black aura licks up your chest and into your hair, while your eyes are that piercing, enchanting purple. You stare long and hard at the door, recent memories of Sans tickling in your brain.
There’s more behind here. Calling to you, asking you to open it-
“don’t.”
It’s a whisper of a sound. Sans is standing next to you, almost lost to the darkness. Like his image is only half there. Transparent, and shaken.
He’s staring at the door with sense of overwhelming dread.
Your head tilts, causing your magic to spark and flicker around you. Sans turns towards you, pleading with his eye sockets, “it’s – it’s not going to be anything good. i can’t remember shit, skye. i don’t know, i don’t know what’s behind there but…”
Your arms suddenly pull him close, and his body becomes more solid, and less whispy. He sighs into your hold, letting your dark magical current bleed into him. Sans’ white bones stay pearly and crisp, and you gently cup his cheeks to tilt his eye sockets to meet your amethyst orbs.
Sans nearly wilts under the pressure of your aura. But he stays standing, you hold him up. Your magic is balancing his existence here.
“Sans,” you whisper his name like it’s a secret. He blinks, slowly. Your words dance across his mind, “I’m here. I’m with you.”
“but…”
Leaning down, your forehead touches his own, and you start breathing in unison with your SOUL magic following soon after. A gentle pulse, and soon his body becomes enveloped in a cool, blue flame, to match your black tendrils. You grin, and he lets out a small laugh.
“y’know. spectral you is pretty hot.”
“Don’t distract me.”
“sorry.”
You hum, nuzzling your shadow-y exterior against the side of his skull. His hands find their way to your hips, and he squeezes them gently.
“i just…don’t want you to hate me after.”
“I never will.”
“you don’t know that. i just…sometimes, frisk looks like at me like…like i’m some figment of a nightmare that they have to live with, skye. and you’ve never seen me…use some of my, uh, 'real' magic.”
He grows quiet. The implications are loud and daunting, but you press a feather soft kiss to his cheek, and he huffs quietly. Resignation is clear in his voice, because you know deep down, this is something that’s been eating at Sans for months, years, even.
“I won’t force you,” you murmur. He grows still, “But, this happened the last time we shared SOULs. I think your SOUL wants me to help you, Sans.”
You take his hand and put it lightly on your chest, where your magic burns brightest. Dark tendrils curl lovingly between his bones, and he chuckles weakly. You smile at him.
“…okay.”
“Okay.”
The door greets you once more. Sans’ hand is firmly linked with yours, and it’s trembling. Giving his hand a soft squeeze, you reach out with your free hand to close it over the door handle-
-only for a series of bright red sparks to snap back at you heatedly, making you pull your hand back with a gasp.
Sans’ eye sockets widen, “are you okay?!”
“Hmmm…” your own eyes narrow thoughtfully at the door, and your fingers curl in thought. The energy…no, the magic sealing the door shut was not Sans’.
The tenacity behind it was carved from a young, strong, and steadfast SOUL. It didn’t want you to open the door.
It was Determined not to let you.
Darkness curled around your fingertips as your resolution grew solid.
You press your own WILL forward; the air around you snaps tight like a wire, and Sans’ pupils watch you anxiously as purple starts to twine with the black mist surrounding your body.
Once again you raise your hand, and your voice grows wicked at the seams – you reach far back in your mind, in your SOUL, to pull your magic through, “His memories are no longer yours to keep, Splicer.“
The magic coating the door hisses, red pushing back against purple. Your SOUL surges, and a voice that is unrecognizable to you pierces through your lips, “Yield to me. Dissero-“
That singular word makes the door handle shatter, with the red aura surrounding the door fizzling out into bright, pink dust.
All that’s left is the door on its hinges, with the flames underneath licking wildly at the air now that the pressure from whatever red magic held upon it. Your magic finally dims, and Sans is left gaping.
“…i honestly don’t know whether to be turned on or slightly afraid.”
You don’t respond. Instead you reach out your other hand once more, and let it stroke down the wood panel of the door with a quiet, gentle hum. As if attempting to console it, or soothe it, and Sans feels something inside his SOUL flutter. The door gives in, as does he, and instantly he feels light-headed.
Fuck. You really are a mage, he thinks dazedly, as he falls to his knees.
His hand slips from your grip feebly, and you whisper once more, “I’m with you, Sans. Show me-“
Your entire body presses up against the door, and with your added weight it creaks open-
And Sans suddenly can’t breathe.
The forest is quiet, dark and deep. Little light peaks through the trees, and even so, there’s no sunlight here.
A child walking down an indented, snowy path. Away from the Ruins, towards the Underground.
Their adventure is just beginning.
But not just any child.
His grin twitches painfully high on his skull.
Huh. A human.
That’s hilarious.
“…quick, behind that conveniently-shaped lamp.”
“sup, bro?”
“YOU KNOW WHAT ‘SUP, BROTHER. IT HAS BEEN EIGHT DAYS AND YOU STILL HAVEN’t RECALIBRATED. YOUR. PUZZLES! YOU JUST HANG AROUND OUTSIDE YOUR STATION! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING!?”
“starin’ at this lamp. it’s really cool. you wanna look?”
“NO!! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THAT! WHAT IF A HUMAN COMES THROUGH HERE? I WANT TO BE READY!!!”
“I WILL BE THE ONE! I MUST BE THE ONE!!! I WILL CAPTURE A HUMAN! THEN, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS…WILL GET ALL THE THINGS I UTTERLY DESERVE!...”
A snap of white, it fizzles out – and then – redredredredred-
“….quick, behind that conveniently-shaped lamp.”
“…”
“uh, ok, i guess you don’t have to.”
“SANS!!! HAVE YOU FOUND A HUMAN YET!??!”
“yeah.”
“REALLY!?!? WOWIE!!! GUESS THAT’S SETTLED!”
“that worked out, huh?”
“well, i’ll be straight-forward with you.”
“my brother’d really like to see a human…”
“so, y’know, it’d really help me out…”
“if you kept pretending to be one.”
A knife.
It gleams in certain angles of light.
Dust. Dust is everywhere. It gets lost in the snow. Makes it look disgusting.
It’s so, so quiet.
Sans hates knives.
And he never hated the quiet until now.
Down, Down, Down---
Another merge, a different timeline-
The sound of rain…but from somewhere else…
“you must really wanna go home, huh?”
“i know the feeling, bucko. maybe sometimes it’s better to take what’s given to you.”
“down here you already got food, drink, friends….”
“is what you have to do….really worth it?”
“…”
“ah forget it. i’m rootin’ for ya, kid.”
Fragments of reality splinter, and Sans lurches backward to another memory---
Sans is struggling to maintain focus. He can feel your SOUL envelop him, steady him- but--
No.
No, no, no, no, no-
“HALT, HUMAN!”
“HEY, QUIT MOVING WHILE I’M TALKING TO YOU! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE SOME THINGS TO SAY!”
“FIRST: YOU’RE A FREAKING WEIRDO! NOT ONLY DO YOU NOT LIKE PUZZLES. BUT THE WAY YOU SHAMBLE ABOUT PLACE TO PLACE….”
“THE WAY YOUR HANDS ARE ALWAYS COVERED IN DUSTY POWDER….”
No. He can’t do this, he won’t. He refuses.
░Ｉ░ ░ｔ░ ░'░ ░ｓ░ ░ｎ░ ░ｏ░ ░ｔ░ ░ｔ░ ░ｈ░ ░ｅ░ ░ｆ░ ░ｉ░ ░ｒ░ ░ｓ░ ░ｔ░ ░ｔ░ ░ｉ░ ░ｍ░ ░ｅ░
….what?
“IT FEELS….LIKE YOUR LIFE IS GOING DOWN A DANGEROUS PATH.”
“HOWEVER! I, PAPYRUS, SEE GREAT POTENTIAL WITHIN YOU! EVERYONE CAN BE A GREAT PERSON IF THEY TRY! AND ME, I HARDLY HAVE TO TRY AT ALL!!!”
No. He’s going to have to see it again-
It looks like a toy but it isn’t – with the intent behind it, it cuts through anything like paper and Papyrus’ skull comes clean off-
“no, please, no nonononono-“
They’re gone. They’re all gone.
This is an ache he’s familiar with. Loneliness, hopelessness. It’s just never been so pure, so clear, as it is right now.
It’s all taken away.
Nothing matters. Life was fickle and doable before, but it literally has no point if he’s the only one here, miserable and rotting.
The hall is long and dark between the pillars.
This…child. It’s not Frisk.
He knows Frisk. Their eyes, their smile.
Still.
It doesn’t make it any easier knowing that a Monster lurks underneath an innocent child’s skin.
Still.
He’s going to spear a child right through their SOUL, and he feels nothing.
“Oh…Sans.”
“don’t. don’t look.”
“Sans. It’s not you.”
“i said don’t look-“
“heya.”
“you’ve been busy, huh?”
…
“so, i’ve got a question for ya. do you think even the worst person can change…?”
“that everybody can be a good person, if they just try?”
heh heh heh…
“all right.”
“well here’s a better question.”
“do you wanna have a bad time?”
“’cause if you take another step forward…”
“you are REALLY not gonna like what happens next.”
“welp.”
“sorry, old lady.”
“this is why i never make promises.”
Something else has taken over him.
He doesn’t know if it’s rage, despair, anguish, revenge. It’s a dark, swirling concoction that grips him as he stares down the child…no. Whatever it is…that’s murdered his brother, his friends, and everyone he knew.
Sans is the last one standing between this…thing, and the king.
And his bones are itching for a fight.
He’s going to make it bleed.
░Ｙ░ ░ｏ░ ░ｕ░ ░ｔ░ ░ｒ░ ░ｉ░ ░ｅ░ ░ｄ░ ░.░ ░Ｂ░ ░ｕ░ ░ｔ░ ░ｙ░ ░ｏ░ ░ｕ░ ░ｆ░ ░ａ░ ░ｉ░ ░ｌ░ ░ｅ░ ░ｄ░ ░.░
░Ｙ░ ░ｏ░ ░ｕ░ ░ａ░ ░ｌ░ ░ｗ░ ░ａ░ ░ｙ░ ░ｓ░ ░ｆ░ ░ａ░ ░ｉ░ ░ｌ░ ░.░
There’s no keeping track of how many times the child’s body bleeds out on the floor. Impaled by bones, glass shattered through their delicate skin cut deep from the broken windows, KARMA making them drain themselves until they’re nothing but one well-timed tumble onto death’s door.
The satisfaction barely lasts longer than a second, before he’s being ripped back in time and they’re mocking him with that small, evil little smile.
Whatever.
He’ll give them as many deaths as they want.
“tell me kid, you feel the sins crawlin’ on your back?”
Sans launches himself into the air; blackness yanks the two of them into an encounter, and four massive, dragon-looking skulls manifest themselves from behind Sans and fire out hot, blue lasers from their maws. The child evaporates into thin air. Sans lands on his feet, smirking.
“’cause i do.”
He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to live after this.
In reality, he doesn’t fucking plan to.
░Ｈ░ ░ｅ░ ░ｒ░ ░ｅ░ ░ｗ░ ░ｅ░ ░ａ░ ░ｒ░ ░ｅ░ ░ａ░ ░ｇ░ ░ａ░ ░ｉ░ ░ｎ░ ░,░ ░ｃ░ ░ｏ░ ░ｍ░ ░ｅ░ ░ｄ░ ░ｉ░ ░ａ░ ░ｎ░ ░.░ ░.░ ░.░ ░Ｊ░ ░ｕ░ ░ｓ░ ░ｔ░ ░ｙ░ ░ｏ░ ░ｕ░ ░ａ░ ░ｎ░ ░ｄ░ ░ｍ░ ░ｅ░ ░,░ ░ｒ░ ░ｉ░ ░ｇ░ ░ｈ░ ░ｔ░ ░?░
After hours of dodging, and growing weak and strained, Sans finally ends up falling asleep mid-turn.
He thought it was the perfect failsafe.
Then again, he didn’t really believe in anything anymore.
He wants it all to end. Whatever that means.
The smile that spread upon the child is demonic, all it takes is one shot, one slice, and he’s done for-
Sans eye socket’s snap wide awake along with a gasp that’s torn straight from his SOUL. He’s shaking, he needs to move- he has to go to Toriel’s-
“Sans!”
You’re turning in his hold, and you wind your arms around his body like a vice. He growls low, sweat seeping into the mattress below as he works to catch his breath.
His eye sockets are vacant in an instant; rage, betrayal, despair unlike anything he has ever felt, manifests itself in the form of a ten year old child he thinks of as family.
He’d been so blind. He knew it, all along, that there was something more.
“mage-“ he croaks out, clinging to your back. You can feel Sans’ fingers digging into your back, and the room creaks under the strain of his magic. All you can do is hold him, try to keep him grounded, because you’re not letting him do anything he’ll regret.
You’re afraid of what will happen when you let go of him.
But this way, as long as you hook your fingers into his ribs, anywhere he goes, you go too.
“frisk-“ he rasps, and it comes out like a snarl. Nodding along, you’re blinking furiously, because Sans’ emotions are so strong through your connection that you’re struggling to keep your own composure. An intense NEED to go confront them burns through you, but you know that right now, it’s not going to do anything but cause so much pain-
“so many. so many times, they did that-“ he’s shaking, his words lost to the memories overlapping in his mind. Good memories, bad memories – it didn’t matter. Frisk always ended up ‘resetting’, and he’s drowning-
He killed them. Oh, Stars, he killed them with his bare hands- MORE THAN ONCE-
And he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’d do it again.
Because they can do it again. They can take away everything that he has, what everyone has…
…they’d take you from him.
He’d lose you. Just like he lost everyone. He couldn’t do anything to stop them, even after giving everything that he had.
“No. No, stop,” you tell him fiercely, holding him close to you. Sans shudders, fighting for air, because he’s falling rapidly into the panic that he refused to let take him before.
He doesn’t know what to do.
So he breaks apart, sobbing, in your arms, because his whole world is once again at the whim of someone else.