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Ah, Death shall never do us apart,
My dear who'll never forsake me.
Forever yours, shall be mine heart
And mine being shall yours always be.
Sans was what you’d call a pessimist.
Looking forward to something good often leads to disappointment. He’d learnt that the hard way many, many times. His scar-ridden body was proof enough of that fact.
The world was cruel and unkind.
He wasn’t religious and had no opinion on whether there was a god. He didn’t have much of a reason to care when he could barely scrape by day after day. But if one existed, it surely got off on his suffering. Because no matter what he went through, that god refused to let him die. No matter how much he longed for it, no matter how close he got, he just wouldn’t die.
He thought back to a night he almost froze to death in the cold as a child. Grillby had found and saved him, fed him and helped him get back on his feet. He was thankful, but sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened if Grillby hadn’t found him. He was already beginning to accept the sweet release of death that night, and occasionally he wished for it again.
But he couldn’t have let himself die, could he? He’d had Papyrus to take care of. He’d also befriended Undyne through him, the spunky leader of the guard. She was a woman who, as much as he hated to admit it, had grown to be one of the most reliable and trustworthy people he knew. Through her? He’d met (or rather, reacquainted himself with) Alphys, the royal scientist with a heart of gold. She was weighed down by… a lot, but she still tried her best. He could respect her for persevering through all the horrors she’d seen. He’d seen them too, and that was at least half the reason he’d given up on everything.
He could keep going. There was Toriel, the kind lady behind the door. There was Asgore, the ruthless king who needed therapy more than anyone else he knew. There was Mettaton, who really needed the ego boost Papyrus gave him. Thinking about that last one made him chuckle, the ghost had been really grateful to Papyrus for helping him get over his self-esteem issues.
Had.
He sighed as he stepped back into his filthy room. The sock tornado, much more filled than it'd been recently. The piles of clothes that covered his room. The one messy stack of papers sitting in one corner. It was like it was back to the old days.
He’d gotten a lot more hygienic in the years since he’d met Frisk, so waking up to this had been a mean shock. He’d thought he must have gotten really drunk at first, even though he didn’t remember drinking. He shrugged it off, stepping out of his room.
Papyrus was already downstairs, making breakfast as usual. Three plates adorned the table, though one only had crumbs left on it. Papyrus was off early today, he guessed.
“Oh, good! You’re awake. Is Frisk still asleep?”
Sans paused, a tad surprised at the question. Frisk always woke up before him. “She’s not up?”
“Hm?” Papyrus hummed in confusion, so Sans assumed he hadn’t heard his question.
“You said you hadn’t seen Frisk today.”
“Frisk? Who’s Frisk?”
Sans froze at that question. What was he talking about? He wasn’t playing some prank on him, right?
The mewing of a cat slipped past his notice. Niko, their black cat, climbed into his arms, though Sans wasn’t paying much attention. He was too busy trying to make sense of this. His mind was running a mile a minute and yet he continued to return to the same conclusion.
His messy room. Papyrus forgetting Frisk, and in that peculiar way too. Him waking up before Frisk. Something was off.
Perhaps he was overreacting, right? This could very easily be a prank. It was probably a prank. He'd fine fine if he just checked his phone and saw the date where it should be.
As the cat settled on his shoulder, he pulled out his phone and checked the date.
He spun back to face Papyrus without skipping a beat, acting as if he hadn’t been obviously taken aback by Papyrus’s question. “Niko seems to be frisking about, that’s all.”
If Papyrus had any veins, they’d have popped with annoyance at the horrible joke. “Whatever. You can treat yourself to breakfast. I have important things to get to.”
“Something important come up today?”
“Nothing yet. But I have a feeling today will be the day—!”
“That you find a human?” He interjected.
“…Yes.” Papyrus paused, taking a good look at Sans. Perhaps he thought something was off with Sans. And perhaps that was the case, from everyone else’s perspective.
You’re bound to be like that when you get sent several years back in time.
Sans didn’t pay too much attention after that. Papyrus left soon after, his usual great and terrible self, though it seemed some of his softer self had stayed with him through the reset. That’s what he’d called it—a reset—because it felt like his world had been reset to that faithful day.
‘Reset’ was such a peculiar word. Frisk had probably called it that around him at some point.
He sat idly at his sentry station, gathering his thoughts. There were some issues with everything that was going on right now. For one, even if he was aware of how Frisk’s abilities worked, courtesy of her explaining them to him, there was no way he should remember it right now. Or remember anything from the previous timeline. It was illogical, impossible, and frankly inconsistent with everything he was aware of so far.
There was also the question of how this had happened. There was no way Frisk was behind this. Frisk was satisfied. She’d assured him that there would be no full resets. Time shenanigans were fine, even expected with how her powers worked, but a reset? That was devastating.
That only started to set in when he listened to Toriel through the door. When Toriel mentioned having a new guest after a long time of being, her pain and grief from faintly remembering Frisk and being reminded of Chara was evident in her voice. It hurt to hear again.
The Toriel he knew was much more cheerful, and had come to terms with her grief.
Perhaps there was some way to solve it. As far as he knew, Frisk couldn’t return to the future, but he could at least get rid of whatever had sent them back.
But it hurt to think about all the progress lost. His friends had begun the slow journey to recovery, healing from their many scars. And now they were back where they’d started. Only he remained, no longer the rude pessimist he once was. Well, not as bad as he once was. He could still be both depending on his mood.
He almost missed the gates of the Ruins opening. Thankfully, Niko’s stirring at the noise caught his attention, and he realized it was time to act.
“Human. Don’t you know how to greet a new pal? Turn around and shake my hand.”
Frisk didn’t react to his little jumpscare the same way she did back then. He didn’t expect her to. She simply turned to face him, an eerie smile on her face. It was… rather unsettling. And he couldn’t pretend not to notice the dust covering her boots and hands.
Surely he was just imagining things, right? There was no way this was actually happening.
Frisk shook his hand enthusiastically, too enthusiastically, and laughed heartily at his jokes. Flowey, who sat wrapped around her arm, didn’t even look at him. He made a point of ignoring him completely, actually.
Flowey had to remember, right? He had enough determination to mess with time, so his memory would be unaltered. Why was he saying nothing? Didn’t he notice the dust on Frisk? Didn’t he notice how confused Sans looked?
Frisk remained silent, as she had been the first time around. Yet, somehow, it was creepy. It was unsettling. She played along, hiding behind the lamp and listening to his jokes, and not even hiding the continuous stare she fixed him with the whole time. He could tell she was paying attention to her surroundings, but it felt like she was always looking at him, noticing the little things, even the minuscule flinch he did when he first noticed it.
It was creepy.
He’d half-expected her to stay after Papyrus left and keep staring at him, yet she lingered but a moment. He collapsed onto his seat in his sentry station afterward, trying to think up an explanation for this.
Surely Frisk hadn’t… killed someone. Was Toriel fine? No, she wouldn’t kill Toriel. Toriel had stepped up to take a motherly role for Frisk, and the two cared for each other deeply. There was no way, right?
She wouldn’t… She wouldn’t do that.
He knew he could find out the answer with a single look. He was the judge after all, and many years later that was still the case. The underground remained its own little hell even years after Frisk had arrived, even if it had slowly become easier to live in it. His position had never fallen out of use. In fact, he’d only gotten better at his job.
Yet, he didn’t want to look. He was scared of what he’d see. Because truly, in his soul, he knew the look of someone consumed by L.O.V.E.
He just didn’t want to have to face the truth.
The rest of the morning went rather… weirdly.
Frisk had no issues with solving the rather deadly puzzles Papyrus had set up through Snowdin. She didn’t even wait for him to finish speaking, rather enthusiastically solving them. He could tell Papyrus was rather conflicted on how to deal with this, not to mention how confused he was with how familiar the human seemed to him.
It wasn’t until Sans asked her in-passing to let Papyrus finish talking that she slowed down and let Papyrus go ahead with his planned speeches. He had to admit, her sudden compliance felt a little odd, but he held his tongue. As long as Papyrus was happy, so was he.
“Sans?”
Sans stepped into the mist that covered the path between Snowdin and Waterfall. His brother’s form was faintly visible in the distance, waiting for the human to approach. The human was currently doing… something in the forest, and he frankly didn’t want to think about it.
“Say, Paps,” he softly replied. “It wouldn’t hurt to postpone this fight, right? Or, you know, why not leave it to Undyne?”
He couldn’t see his brother’s face, but he could feel the concerned gaze Papyrus was probably fixing him with.
“Sans. Are you… doing alright? You’ve been acting strange since this morning. You seem very uncomfortable whenever the human is nearby. I can understand being unsettled with the fact that they’ve managed to defeat so much of our kind, but I don’t think that’s all.”
His brother was perceptive. He should have expected him to notice by now.
“That— That’s not important right now. All you need to know is the human is bad news and… I don’t want you to die. Please.”
Silence filled the air as Sans’s weak ‘please’ faded away. Papyrus sighed, but didn’t budge.
“You should be more confident in your brother. I’m not going to die. After all, I am the great and terrible Papyrus! I’m certain I can handle it. It’s just some human, how hard could it be?”
Sans could hear the uncertainty in his voice, yet Papyrus was trying his best to reassure him. It hurt to listen to. He didn’t want this to happen; he didn’t want to be here. He wanted to wake up and believe this was just another nightmare. He wanted to return to having fun banter with his friends. To trading puns with his brother.
Footsteps drew near.
“…Take care of yourself, bro.”
“You too, Sans.” He paused, gathering his confidence and resolve to say one last thing. “…Remember, you’re my bestest brother.”
As Sans’s figure faded away into the mist, he knew this was the last time he would see Papyrus. Papyrus knew that too. He was speaking like it would be his last words to Sans, because they would be. But he wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t run away in the face of certain death. Because even monsters have hearts, and stalling to help the evacuation was such a great and terrible thing to do.
‘Bestest,’ heh. Sans chuckled at the word. Papyrus used to say that all the time when he was younger. And he always replied the same way.
“Of course I am, Paps. I’m your one and only brother.”
Papyrus was gone.
Some part of him was still clinging to the hope that this was some prank gone wrong. His friends wouldn’t pull such a cruel prank, so perhaps some tame prank had gone a little further than they’d hoped. In a moment, Papyrus would come looking for him, telling him there’d been an issue or something. That they were sorry to have worried him so much, and he’d tell them all he needed was a hug to make it up to him.
They’d laugh at him for being a wimp, but at this point… he didn’t care anymore. Anything… anything to bring his brother back.
But as he stared down at the red dust-covered scarf laying in the snow, he was suddenly confronted once again with the fact he’d been trying to avoid. This scarf was the last thing he had of Papyrus now. Frisk— No, the human had killed Papyrus. This wasn’t Frisk. It wasn’t the Frisk he knew. Something had to be wrong. Maybe Frisk was being controlled, maybe it was a doppelganger, but that was not Frisk.
Perhaps he was just saying that to make himself feel better.
Frisk was someone he’d grown to love in the years following her fall. He’d never had the confidence to confess, not to mention that going public with a relationship used to be really dangerous for both monsters involved, not to even talk about humans. if Sans made enemies with the wrong person, or some anti-human nutjob had set their sights on Frisk, both of them would end up putting the other in danger through it.
That was just an excuse. No one would have dared to cross Frisk. He was just a coward.
He sighed, picking up the scarf. He was still confused, a rollercoaster of emotions rolling around in his head. He felt completely weighed down by all the sadness and guilt within him, but he could feel all of that slowly changing to anger and regret. Usually, he always ensured he kept his cool, but now? He couldn’t have cared less.
So, with all his emotions stewing within him and his thoughts occupying his every living moment, he simply returned to autopilot, and decided to do what he did best.
Stalking.
Yet another monster fell into dust at her hands. This time it was Aaron, though he wasn’t entirely sure why he was just watching and noting this down from the shadows. Then again, he didn’t know what else to do, so this was all he would do for now.
Flowey had yet to say much at all, and whenever he did it was always small pleas to stop, though the human simply ignored him. He couldn’t help but think Flowey was pathetic for not doing anything to stop them in the first place. He’d been there the entire time, and certainly when they’d just arrived. Surely Flowey could have stopped them before they’d gotten any stronger.
Then what was he doing?
He shook away the thought. That wasn’t important right now.
You’re pathetic too, you know?
“Shut up.”
He stared down at his reflection in the water. It felt like he could see it mocking him for refusing to take action. Refusing to do anything. He averted his gaze. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with this.
It didn’t take long for the human to reach Undyne. That was what he’d thought, but a glance at his phone told him that the human had taken their sweet time. He really was losing it, wasn’t he? Despite watching every little thing the human did, he felt like he hadn’t been there mentally for most of it.
It felt odd, being numb to the deaths of many. Yeah sure, many of them were assholes, but they were still people. He’d even gotten to know them more in the years since meeting Frisk. He should care. He should be angry, sad, or something. Anything. What happened to how he felt when he saw Papyrus?
This was far from the first time he’d reacted to pain like this, wasn’t it? Alphys had, in the last timeline, referred to it as dissociation, hadn’t she?
He sighed. He supposed this happening shouldn’t have been surprising to him. His first reaction to pain had always been to run away. To hide from all his problems. If he ignored everything that was wrong around him, then nothing was wrong around him.
Do something. Anything
Just. Ignore. It.
Do something, goddammit!
“Do what?!”
His focus turned towards the battle between the human and Undyne. For a moment, he wondered if Undyne could remember anything herself. She wasn’t nearly as determined as the human, but she was still determined. She had to remember something. He imagined she’d feel just as betrayed as he did.
After all, her old bestie was trying to kill her.
Yet, that same heroine refused to budge. Even now, as the human stood over her prone, melting figure, he could feel her drawing on the last dredges of her magic. She was a better person than him, being able to forge through it all till the end. He’d never told her— he’d rather die of embarrassment than admit it— but he looked up to the undine warrior.
He sighed and took aim. No one could say he didn’t try to help after this.
Then again, there probably wouldn’t be anyone left after the human was done with them.
He heard the faint, familiar ping of his blue magic as his grip on the human’s soul tightened. The human froze, unable to move for just a moment, and Undyne immediately took the opportunity.
She didn’t summon a spear or anything, though. No, Undyne knew when she had to play underhanded.
Her hands gripped the soil, throwing a fistful of it into the human’s face. The human stumbled back in surprise as his grip on their soul vanished, and Undyne wasted no time in getting up.
And picked up a piece of a nearby stalagmite.
The human barely had time to register the improvised weapon going straight for their right eye.
The pitter-patter of blood on the ground was his only sign that it had connected. The human staggered back, hair covering their face. He couldn’t really tell how much damage was done like this.
As Undyne stepped back to regain her bearings, he noticed the blood and skin sticking to the stalagmite. That was… brutal. He’d seen far worse, but this was still a harsh reminder of how the underground was after he’d experienced years of relative peace.
Not that he had any empathy left for the human after all they’d done.
The human finally looked back up at Undyne, their hand covering their wound. They slowly removed their trembling hand from their face and their eyes locked onto the blood-stained hand. Blood dripped from the new hole that sat where their eye used to be. Little bits of flesh that once were their eyelids hung from the hole, holding on to the rest of her face by the thinnest connections. Shock covered their face, coupled with some emotion he was struggling to read. Rage? Pain? No, it felt familiar.
As the human smiled with unnatural glee, he realized why.
That was how they looked at him. They weren’t angry—weren’t hurt—no, they were just eerily happy.
And he didn’t know what to make of it.
Perhaps it’d be easier to understand if the human was some megalomaniac, obviously doing this for the rush of power that came with gaining EXP. But the more he watched them, the further away from that they seemed to be. It was unsettling, to be unable to read their motives, to not even find the tiniest hint.
And that was his job. His most important skill. He’d never encountered someone so… confusing.
Someone so terrifying.
Undyne snapped her finger, bringing his attention back to the current fight. The floor below the human shimmered an intimidating blood red. And below them, so did the endless abyss. The ground shook in terror, as Undyne prepared her last stand.
And then she glanced at him in his hiding spot, a knowing, melancholic smile.
No. Please.
Her boots were melting. She was reaching her limit. She was going to die— no, she was going to suffer a horrifying, painful death. And yet she kept fighting on.
Why won’t you just run away? Why must you push forward to your deaths?!
The human’s smile only widened, their eye glowing an eerie shade of crimson.
A flash of red enveloped them both as a mass of spears shot up from the abyss below. He could see clearly, but… he could guess what was happening. He supposed this was inevitable.
How was one supposed to beat a human with complete control over time? A human who was functionally immortal was, frankly, unbeatable.
He gripped his scarf and waited, hoping for something— anything to happen. A miracle, maybe.
But as the dust settled, as the red lights faded and the many spears slowly dissipated, the obvious conclusion was made clear. Undyne knelt on one knee, melting yet still clinging onto her last piece of determination. Speaking of her trust in others to carry on and never give up.
Being a true hero to the very end.
The human reacted as they always did, with an enthusiastic, unchanging smile.
“Our hope… will live on…”
And with that, she faded away, the howling wind carrying what remained of their last hopes.
…No. Undyne didn’t die for them to give up. They had to try. They had to do something.
But what was there to do?
Sans rematerialized in Alphys’ lab, though it seemed Alphys had long abandoned it. Or, more likely, had secluded herself in the True Lab. The lights were off, and so were most of the electronics, excluding the giant monitor in the middle of the room that she used to monitor the human. That itself wasn’t odd, but it was quiet. Far too quiet.
She’d likely seen what had happened to Undyne. He could tell, given her work desk was even more of a mess than it usually was. A half-finished plate of instant noodles lay on the floor, shattered ceramic sitting within and around it. Alphys probably wasn’t taking her death well.
He stared at the large standing monitor for a moment. The human, now completely of all their wounds—save for a scar over their right eye, the only thing left of Undyne's battle—trudged through Hotland, a calculating smile on her face. They seemed like they were looking forward to something. He wasn’t sure what. Flowey looked absolutely downtrodden and filled with despair, still holding on to their left arm. He had to wonder why Flowey hadn’t already left. Hadn’t already run away.
He’s a coward.
He’s just like you.
Sans moved over to the worn-down elevator, briefly considering just taking a shortcut down instead. He decided against it, as the last time he’d done that (last? It was the last time in this timeline, but he was sure he’d come here again before the reset) he’d accidentally spooked Endogeny and almost got reduced to a pile of bones. He’d take the elevator this time if it meant not having another close brush with death-by-melting-dog.
He wrenched the elevator door open, noting that the bookshelf that usually hit it had unceremoniously been knocked aside. Its many contents littered the floor, and he could feel his inner Papyrus urging him to clean up all the books. He ignored it and stepped into the elevator.
The ride down was just as tumultuous and rocky as he remembered. Alphys had never bothered to get it repaired for a good while, deeming it enough to serve its purpose, and that mentality never did change. There were things that did change after Frisk arrived, though.
The lab had become much better lit, for one.
He stumbled through the dark rooms that made up the lab, looking for Alphys. Honestly, he preferred the darker rooms, because those with actual lighting in them tended to be just dim enough that it hurt to look at. He had to wonder how Alphys had even gotten used to this.
But that wasn’t the worst part of this. The worst part—and the best part, depending on how you looked at it—was the lack of amalgamates moving around. Usually, he’d run into one of them by now, usually Endogeny, but he’d run into none of them. Not even a trace of them was to be seen. And yes, the amalgamates sometimes didn’t know their limits or weren’t fully conscious of their actions and had almost dusted him once… twice… maybe a few times… but he did enjoy their presence for the most part.
Imagine his surprise (and relief) to find them all in a single room, herded around Alphys. Alphys, who was currently hyper-ventilating and laying on the ground, surrounded by the goopy monsters and piles of papers.
“Alph!”
His worried yell caught the attention of the amalgamates, who made way for him as he rushed over to the panicking scientist.
“Alph! Are you okay? Calm down, please.”
Luckily, Alphys noticed him and she managed to slowly calm down over the next few minutes, with a little help. She was fine, just struggling to cope with the situation she’d found herself in.
She’d never expected Undyne to lose.
A part of him wished he had her optimism. Another part chastised him for wishing for ignorant bliss. He chose to ignore both.
“So… Alph. I came here for… reasons, but it seems you aren’t exactly in the best state of mind. Need me to help? Would some coffee help? I’m not entirely sure how to help people recover from these.” Undyne and Frisk had always helped Alphys with these, after all.
“No— No, I’m alright.” She paused, then pulled out her phone. “I’ve just… been working on some last-minute repairs for Mettaton. He was made to be a human-killing robot, after all. Who else would be better suited for this?”
He supposed she would be right if this was a normal human. But… saying anything now would crush her more. He didn’t have the heart to do it.
“You’re right,” he lied. “He’s the best fit for the job,” he lied further. “Just… be careful, okay? Take care of yourself. I know how you feel, losing someone so important to you. If you need me, I’m always here,” he finally truthfully said.
Alphys managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Sans. I’ll be fine.”
She was lying. He knew it. The scientist was downright obsessed with the Guard Captain. If she didn’t process it properly, who knew how she would deal with it? He’d already been worried that one day she’d snap and go insane— rather, more insane than she already was— or worse, just vanish. He… didn’t want to imagine that.
His gaze fell on Endogeny, their hole-for-a-face pulsating much faster than normal in a weird (though usual for it) show of concern. “I’ll take these amalgamates off your hands for now. They seem pretty hungry.” He called upon his blue magic, envisioning it as little threads connecting to the many masses of warped souls. “Come on, let’s leave ol’ Alph alone now. I’ll get y’all some potato crisps if you like. You really seem to enjoy them.”
The amalgamates complied as he tugged on their souls, though rather weakly so as to not upset them. Slowly but surely, he herded them out of the room, leaving Alphys to her own devices. He couldn’t help peeking back into the room to see if Alphys was fine after, though. She was doing as fine as she possibly could, as far as he could tell, simply sorting out the mess of papers around her. She seemed to be looking for something.
He left her to it. It was probably a good idea to give her some space for a little bit.
After feeding the amalgamates, he settled in one of the only rooms with a working computer. He’d read through all the files before; the experiments on the souls, the origin of the amalgamates and Flowey, Mettaton’s creation, and the like. He’d been here for some if not most of it, and the rest he’d figured out in the last timeline after Frisk and Alphys approached him to help broach the news of what she’d done to the others.
And for a moment, using determination seemed tempting. He was going to have to confront the human sooner or later. He didn’t know why he could remember through time alterations, but that wasn’t going to be enough to beat them. They were a human, he was a monster. Basic biology dictated they’d win.
But with determination, or even better, one of the souls, he stood a chance,
In truth, though, neither would work. He knew what determination did to a monster; the amalgamated dog he was petting was evidence of that. Speaking of which, Endogeny really liked him for some reason. Perhaps it was because he was made of bones, but he couldn’t shake the fact that he’d known them before. Their souls were familiar.
Of course, you do. You’d been there to see them fall down.
Back on track, getting any of the souls was an even worse idea, because it’d never happen. Asgore was stingy with them, and knowing him he wouldn’t even get to use them on the human before dying. He’d always been one for theatrics, that crazy king, and he’d get promptly dusted the instant he let his guard down.
If he was smart, he’d have used the souls the moment he realized the final human was underground.
Regardless, it wasn’t happening. He could try to get the souls after the human killed Asgore. Alphys would know where they were, and would probably be more than willing to point him to it if it meant the human was gone. She certainly didn’t want the responsibility for herself.
Neither did he.
Undyne would have been perfect for this, he realized. Too bad Asgore never thought of doing that.
Something goopy slowly poured onto his skull, causing him to leap back— or well, try to, before promptly falling back with his chair onto the ground. The goop’s source, Endogeny, peered over him as he processed what had just happened. Endogeny looked… hungry again. That was why it was getting his attention. It was hard to tell sometimes, but he was getting better and better at reading them.
He pulled out another bag of potato crisps, but Endogeny swallowed it whole before he could even open the packaging. He was just going to assume they’d be fine after eating that.
Endogeny still stared at him, unmoving. He was confused as to what it wanted at first but quickly realized.
“Ah, a bone. You want me to get you a bone. Alright.”
He snapped his fingers, and a bone materialized right above Endogeny, before flying towards the corner of the room. Endogeny chased it and proceeded to… he wasn’t sure what was happening to that bone. Whatever Endogeny’s equivalent to chewing was probably what was going on. He could ask Alphys, but he felt like it’d be better the less he knew.
He got back on his feet and back on track. There was another reason he’d come for the computer. It was connected to the camera systems. It could do much more, and Alphys occasionally used it to remotely control the core, but that required administrator privileges, which she had locked behind a whole slew of passwords and puzzles. He had no idea how she managed to solve them so quickly and efficiently every time. He’d thought it was simply more work than it was worth, especially since getting the laptop meant having to deal with the roaming amalgamates, and before that, somehow discovering the true lab’s existence.
But he digressed. He wanted to monitor the human in the meantime. Maybe, if he could somehow enter enough correct passwords, he could rearrange the core. It would help slow the human down and give Alphys more time. He knew a few passwords on here, given Alphys once accidentally let Sans see them, then later had to change it. In the previous timeline, of course. Here, she was far too guarded for that.
So he went to work.
Some of the passwords didn’t work, meaning Alphys probably changed some on a regular basis, but some did, which made him question why and when Alphys decided to randomly change passwords. Whatever. He couldn’t move the core around, unfortunately, that required more access, but he could activate the defence systems.
So, he did that and watched.
The human swiftly made their way through Hotland, and Sans realized that a lot of the usual puzzles had been disabled for some reason. It began painfully obvious why that was when they chanced upon a live one. The human simply spoke a word; ‘Flowey,’ he’d assumed. He was decent at lip-reading, and given Flowey immediately summoning vines afterwards, he was pretty sure he was correct.
Needless to say, the defence systems didn’t do much.
At least Mettaton managed to slow them down by fooling around for a little. He was being a big help, but he wondered if Alphys’ revisions would really do much to stop the human in their tracks. Perhaps the revisions would make Metatron invulnerable, like his usual body, but he doubted it just going off his EX form. Working on that would be far too difficult and would sacrifice power for defence.
But barring that, he really didn’t know what to do while he waited.
Suspenseful silence filled the air. Performative thin mist covered the stage, enveloping the expectant human. A tall figure slowly became more and more visible through the mist, the silhouette’s long legs and four arms catching the human’s attention. Spotlights came on, glaring down on the monster.
An “Oh, yes!~” rang through the open stage, so robotic yet paradoxically touched with genuine emotion.
Without much hesitation, his speech began.
“HUMAN!” His voice boomed through the room, its volume eliciting a flinch from the human. “YOUR ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE, TWISTED, VIOLENT AND DOWNRIGHT SENSELESS MASSACRE SHALL NOW COME TO AN END! FOR I, METTATON—,” dramatic pause— “THE MOST FABULOUS ROBOT YOU’VE EVER LAID YOUR EYES ON, WILL STOP YOUR RAMPAGE HERE AND NOW!”
The robot towered over the human, the mist beginning to clear.
“BUT NEVER FEAR, FOR I SHALL MAKE YOUR LAST MOMENTS—”
Pose for dramatic flair. The mist cleared suddenly, as if on demand. Sans didn’t miss the self-doubt and fear barely hidden in his expression.
“—ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL!”
It was his turn.
He squinted as his eyes struggled to adjust to the bright lights of the judgement hall. It was always so beautiful, glistening with sanctity as he eked out judgement on the poor monsters that stood before him.
At least this part of the Underground had yet to be tainted by malice.
L.O.V.E. made it easier to kill, easier to distance yourself, and yet his high L.O.V.E. had never managed to taint his judgement. Being the Judge affected his magic, and its karmic drain was much stronger in this hall, but it also cleared his mind of doubts and calmed him.
That was one reason he hadn’t stepped in till now. He’d simply die a dog’s death otherwise, instantly beaten by a warped time traveler.
He still wasn’t certain he’d win, even with this. He was more trying to convince the human to give up and leave. He’d come to accept the fact that he’d likely die here. He would not win this battle…
…but the human could lose.
A jagged slasher grin etched itself upon his face at this thought, only growing wider as he heard the telltale click-clack of boots against tiled marble. The human had arrived, and just in time too. It was time to perform his last act, before throwing in the towel for good.
It was time to pay back this betrayal a hundredfold.
He stared down the human, who stood completely obscured by shadow save for their eerie malicious grin. Their brand new, yet oh-so-trusty knife sat comfortably in their grip, their new golden locket a small spark contrasting the darkness they were. A couple of little glints of crimson made themselves clear, their eyes peeking at him through their long bangs.
He pretended that seeing Frisk’s body with that smile didn’t unsettle him. He pretended that the prospect of certain death didn’t make him momentarily rethink this decision. He pretended that he didn’t know who the human was. He pretended that he didn’t want to cry. He pretended that he was going to enjoy this. He pretended that him being here meant anything.
…He pretended that he still wanted to live, when everything he lived for was gone.
His grin didn’t change. His left eye flickered to life.
“Let’s just get straight to the point.”
What did you expect?
He could hear his own voice ring through his head, asking him this question in a taunting, yet somber tone. He was being dumb by coming here, sure. He knew that. But, he at least had to try. Undyne and Papyrus would’ve wanted him too. His brother would be proud to see this. To see Sans put some effort into something for once. Undyne would parade him around, and he’d groan and whine, but he’d never hate her for it.
It’s over, now. We can finally rest.
As he stared down the human, the sense of unease that had enveloped him the entire fight was gone. The human had enjoyed this fight, sure, which meant he’d failed at his one job, but that was fine. He was dying; he didn’t have time to think about the human’s odd behavior. He simply admired all the work he’d put in.
The human stood a short while away from him, having rushed past him to land their decisive slash. It’d caught him off guard, sure, and he now had a giant, gaping gash running down one side of his torso to the other, but they were much worse for wear.
Many unhealed wounds plastered their body, their striped turtleneck now riddled with holes where they’d be impaled over and over. Blood spilt from many wounds on their face, evidence of moments where Sans had gone physical and dealt many a blow with his bare fists. The scarlet liquid had fallen all over the right side of their face, and it was surprising that their right eye didn’t seem so irritated from all the blood covering it.
A little giggle escaped the human as they pulled out a red bone—the last remnant of his very last attack—out of their left thigh. The fact that they could still run with that in their leg was impressive, but he’d come to realize the human never recoiled from pain, and, on the contrary, actually seemed to enjoy it.
Still, with their panting, their complete lack of items, and their HP so low a breeze could kill them, he couldn’t help but feel he’d done his best. They’d died enough to make him feel good about himself, and the fact that it took a lucky attempt to kill him meant he’d been far worse than this time traveler had expected.
You… I’ve done well.
His usual nagging thoughts faded away to a simple acknowledgement that he’d done his best. He could rest now. Let the sweet void of death take him, and finally find out what was on the other side.
Maybe he’d see his friends again.
…He hoped.
He let out a sigh as the human approached. He supposed he’d normally be scared, this being completely obscured by shadow, a monster that had completely eradicated his kind and was now coming for him next. Add the fact that this thing would simply rewind time when they died and there really wasn’t much he could do, was there?
Not that it mattered now.
“Let’s just get straight to the—.”
Sans froze.
Perhaps an ordinary genocidal maniac would’ve taken advantage of this pause to kill him right there and then, but this one stood back and smiled. They knew what was happening. They were enjoying this.
His memories rushed back to him, the battle, his death, everything. They’d likely been delayed because he’d died before, but they were now here, regardless.
His gaze fixed itself on the human as he glared, both fear and fury leaking into his shaky voice.
“You freak.”
Their smile only grew as he spat out that curt insult. Flowey, who was sitting out this battle on a nearby windowsill, looked terrified. Even more terrified than he had this entire time—so much so it made Sans actually pay attention to him now. He’d refused to do so during the battle; he couldn’t look at Flowey, who had refused to step in—who had reminded Sans of himself.
But, he’d finally glanced his way once, and Flowey didn’t just look terrified. He looked terrified for Sans. There was something peculiar about this, something different from his reaction to the human’s other encounters that he couldn’t put his finger on.
There was no point in thinking about it right now.
He returned his attention to the human, who stood patiently awaiting their next battle. He would give them none. He wasn’t going to play into their hands and give them exactly what they wanted.
“Get out.”
The human looked a tad surprised as Sans stepped away from his usual spot. He strolled over to a free windowsill and sat on it, before digging through his hoodie for a cigarette. He found none (he’d kicked the habit before the reset and had promptly left his pack of cigs at home today) and groaned. He always relied on them to calm him down in absurd situations he just didn’t want to deal with, but he’d gotten much better at handling things and now no longer needed them.
Oh, but he certainly needed them for this shit.
He glared at the human, who seemed confused but was clearly enjoying being the subject of his glare. Upon noticing that, he averted his gaze, and the human simply continued on their way. A little whispered floated through the air as they left, a warning meant for him and him alone.
“I’ll be back.~”
A few minutes of silent followed, before a small, shaky voice spoke up.
“You… You should run.”
He sighed, staring at the flower sitting on the other side of the hall. “Thought you’d left.” His voice dripped with malice and disapproval, though he forced himself to drop it. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t hold anything against you. It’s not your fault. Who would I be to say anything when I only jumped in at the last moment?”
“But I—”
“You’re just a little weed.” Faux spite enveloped the insult, mimicking the way he used to regard Flowey. “We’ve all grown from our time with Frisk. We’ve both gotten softer, and the fact that we can remember is all the more devastating for the two of us. I can’t blame you for not knowing what to do, especially when you’ve always been doing your best to survive. You suddenly got pulled back to a time when you were barely scraping by, and your old saviour’s threatening you to help them kill others.”
God, he could use a drink right about now. He’d have to go look for Ol’ Grillbs.
“Anyway, I’m saying you’re fine. I don’t hate you. Honestly, I wish I did. I have no idea how to process these emotions. Actually, that isn’t particularly right. I wish I didn’t remember. This situation would still suck… but I wouldn’t have do deal with having to hate the person I loved.”
Flowey had known about this, of course. He was one of the few people he’d told about his crush on Frisk, primarily because he’d grown to trust the little weed, and he was pretty close friends with Frisk. Flowey had certainly laughed at him at first, but had slowly begun to support him. There was a certain sense of camaraderie between them… it was nice.
“Ah—” Flowey paused, as if he just remembered something, then immediately broke into a bout of sweat. “You need to run. Leave. Escape as far as possible. Cross the barrier if need be.”
“Calm down,” he interjected. “What’s got you so panicked.”
“No, you don’t understand. Frisk may be acting weird, but didn’t you notice how much attention she’s been paying to you? She complained about you not stalking her through Hotland. She heeded your every word back in Snowdin and was always paying attention to you. She wants you, and I mean this literally. She’s obsessed, and I don’t understand it, but she has this warped view of how she’ll show you her love. She’ll kill you over and over and—”
Flowey’s voice cut off as a loud shatter rang through the hall, only bested in volume by the gunshot preceding it. Flowey’s flower pot sat in pieces on the floor by the window, and the very shaken flower cowered in the midst of them. Both he and Sans immediately turned to face the human, standing right at the exit to the hall, who took aim at Flowey once again.
“Little flowers like you best watch what you say, lest you get pruned.”
Click. Bang.
But Flowey had already run away, leaving just a cluster of soil where he once was.
“Ah, if only that flower hadn’t said it in my stead.” The human sighed. “I’d planned to confess on my own, but I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.”
They stashed the gun back in their inventory and turned to face Sans. They smiled, which made him go into a full blown panic.
There were too many things wrong here. The human was all of a sudden talking as if they hadn’t spent the entire journey mute, which was probably a great comparison to how quickly his knowledge had been flipped on his head. The human loved him? Did Flowey mean L.O.V.E.? He had to, right? Normal love didn’t come with obsession, and didn’t make you want to kill whoever you loved. This had to be some cruel joke.
“I guess I should thank the flower for one thing though.”
Why was the human much closer all of a sudden? He hadn’t heard or seen them get closer. They were a short while away—only a quarter of the long hall sat between them—but that was already far too close for comfort. He reached for his magic, grasping for the faintest threads. Longer shortcuts were harder to use, but he needed to get as far away as possible.
“I’d never noticed you loved me too!”
He paused for just a moment, realizing his mistake. The human would simply search for him. Or reload. He needed a spot where they wouldn’t be able to find him, no matter what. A spot only he knew about. A spot…
Ah, that spot.
“You still love me, don’t you? Let’s shower each other with our love! Let me show you its full depths, until you drown in my love and I drown in yours. Let me…”
He was no longer listening, focusing on finding a single thread in the tangled mess that was his magic. The human was swiftly closing in, despite the fact that they were strolling comfortably towards him, and the panic only made it harder to focus on his magic. He needed to ignore them and focus, and find the right shortcut—
There.
He fell back into the window behind him, not meeting glass but a pool of his own magic. The pool of magic exploded as his back hit it, expanding rapidly into a puff of red smoke as he vanished and reappeared elsewhere. The one place no one could find him.
And once again, he was met with an unexpected reaction from the human as the smoke enveloped him. A warm, knowing smile.
It disgusted him.
He collapsed into a small field of cyan flowers, the unsettling silence of the hall immediately being replaced with the faint sounds of rushing water. Whispers surrounded him as the echo flowers beneath him stirred, telling their stories one by one.
Stories of the people who once found this place, separated by years, maybe even decades, and some likely gone from this world.
Well, it was likely before the human arrived. Now? Almost certainly.
A little echo of his own voice made its way into his ears, reminding him of the one time he’d found this place. Back when he was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and with no time to relax. He’d stumbled onto this place while messing with his shortcuts, and quickly found it was isolated from the rest of Waterfall. The perfect place to hide when he didn’t want to be found.
“One day, the Underground will become a place where we can live without having to keep up our guard. Without having to worry about dying,” a younger him said. “Paps said it… so I believe it.”
The doubt in his voice lived on through this whisper, but Sans could tell that he’d been trying to believe it. He wanted to believe his brother.
Papyrus had been right, believe it or not. And yet, all that progress was reset. It was mentally taxing to think about how much progress had been lost. How much growth he and his friends had gone through, all gone in the click of a button.
He didn’t want to think about it any further. He needed a nap. That would probably help a little after all he’d gone through. Then he’d go find Alphys and decide what to do from now on.
Some people had survived it all. Those people deserved to live on. If they could get them through the barrier somehow, and ensure that the human couldn’t leave, they’d be fine. Though, human souls couldn’t absorb monster souls, and it didn’t seem like the human had absorbed Asgore’s soul when he died, so they probably couldn’t leave anyway. As long as they could get out, the human would probably starve to death in here.
With that reassuring thought, he drifted away to sleep, letting the whispers seep into his dreams.
He awoke to a rather soft feeling underneath his head. A pillow? Was he back home?
No, that would be odd.
A hand softly caressed his head as its owner hummed a lovely, familiar song. Ah, she usually sang this to herself often, didn’t she? Frisk had really loved the song, which had made Undyne really happy for some reason. Wait, Undyne composed it, didn’t she? What was its name again? Waterfall? After this area? Yeah… Waterfall…
Frisk?
On instinct, he moved to teleport away, but Frisk swiftly grasped his shoulder. Her nails dug into it, a warning not to move.
“Ah, good evening Sans. Did you sleep well?”
He didn’t respond. He was calling on his magic once more, regardless of her warning. He’d skewer her and—
“Oh, and by the way, I’ve already saved! If anything tries to stop us again, I can just reload, and we’ll be able to continue our conversation from where we left off.”
What did they— oh. Oh. If he tried to run, she’d just load her save and he’d be back in her grasp. That was… inconvenient. And somehow, he had the feeling she was a heck of a lot more patient than he was.
“Your sleeping face was absolutely adorable. I couldn’t help myself from moving you onto my lap. You seemed so calm.”
He felt the urge to puke growing as she started to gush about him. And yet, a part of him—a part that he wanted to murder violently, mutilate and cremate—was enjoying the fact that Frisk was treating him like this. Because, as much as he wanted to pretend that this wasn’t Frisk…
…that was her voice. That was her kindness, her enthusiasm. It was… all wrong now, but it was her. And he hated it so, so much.
He didn’t move. He didn’t have the energy to even try. “You remembered, huh? Of course you did. Of course you remembered our secret spot.”
And of course he forgot, with all his memory crannies and mix-ups. Of course he forgot that it was no longer his secret spot anymore, that he'd shared it with Frisk and Frisk only. That he'd shared his most precious with the person he'd trusted the most.
“You were always so kind and caring. I don’t understand why it ended up like this.”
He was venting. He was venting to the person who ruined his life. He was venting to the person who he loved more than anything else. He was venting to the person he wished he could toss into the sun.
It didn’t matter, did it? There wasn’t much else he could do than whine and complain. He’d died once before, and he’d lost everything he ever cared about.
Except her, a part of him thought.
He almost couldn’t hold back the bile piling up in his throat at that thought.
He tried desperately to divert his thoughts, and ended up back at the questions that plagued his mind from the very start.
“Why?”
She let out a hum of confusion at his question.
“Why did you do… all this?” He clarified. “Why did you hurt—no, kill my friends? Our friends?” He wasn’t supposed to be getting emotional. He really wasn’t supposed to be getting emotional… but he was. He really was. He couldn’t hold back the tears forming as he finally began to process the fact that they were all gone. Everyone he loved was gone.
“Didn’t you care? Didn’t you love them?!” his voice was hoarse and accusatory, wracked with grief and rage at what she’d done.
“I do,” she responded matter-of-factly, and Sans’s sobbing abruptly stopped in shock.
He was so taken aback that all the emotion in his voice vanished, leaving only utter befuddlement. “W—What the hell do you mean? You killed them!”
The human smiled so innocently Sans remembered an old memory of the two hanging out together. That was a funny prank his mind was playing on him right now. Ha. Ha.
Her right hand softly touched the scar Undyne left. “But isn’t this how we show our love? Through pain?”
Sans was a great judge of character. He knew that, Frisk knew that, everyone knew that. He could very easily tell when someone was a lying sack of shit, and often reveled in calling out said sacks of shit. So when he said he couldn’t read anything but ‘TRUTH’ in blaring red letters from her, it meant something.
And he had no fucking clue how to process this.
Sans got off her lap, slowly backing away in fear. Fear at what he did not—could not understand. His voice was shaky, as if scared to even ask for more explanation, but he did so anyway. “D—don't you mean L.O.V.E..? The acronym?”
Frisk giggled at his question, as if it was a dumb one. “No, silly, not that. You’ve already shown me the difference. I mean love. This is how I’ve always been shown love, and I wanted to give it to you all. I wanted to give all my love to my friends until I could give no more.”
Translating that to normal person speak probably went something like “I wanted to hurt you until you died,” an act also known as murder.
He… wasn’t going to ask for more explanation about that. He wouldn’t like any answers he got. What he had right now was already sending him spiraling, and he couldn’t even keep himself on his own too feet as she stood up.
“Why?” he whispered instinctively, shaken to his very core. “Why me?” He didn’t want to know more, and yet he couldn’t keep himself from asking the obvious. He wasn’t sure if he’d like the answer—no, he was certain he wouldn’t like it one bit—but he couldn’t stop himself. There had to be some reason for all of this. Perhaps it would calm him knowing it wasn’t just his terrible luck.
She looked confused, as if the answer to this was even more obvious. “Because I love you.” She stepped closer to him, speaking with glee as he frantically pushed himself away against the floor. “I can’t explain it, but when I think about you, my heart seizes, sweetness envelopes me, and I can’t help the urge for your scent. For your blood. For everything that makes you you. I yearn to give you all my love, but I can’t give you more when you’re gone. So I must bring you back, and do it all again. But, you wouldn’t remember, would you?”
He— He wouldn’t remember? Did she mean with reloading? Wait, was she implying what he thought she was?
“So I made sure you’d remember.”
He felt his heart drop at this revelation. He wanted to run, to vanish and escape as far away as he possibly could. Instead, his back was met with the wall, and Frisk slowly closed in on him.
“So we could do this over and over and over again. You love me too, don’t you? After all, we had our lovely battle, where you so clearly showed me your love.”
Her smile was now batshit insane, with an unhinged grin that utterly terrified him. Glowing crimson pupils peeked at him from half-lidded eyes, fixated so manically upon him. He wanted to move, vanish, do anything, but her gaze froze him to the spot as she crouched down in front of him.
He could feel her heated breath against his skull, her excitement apparent as she spoke once again. “Undyne once told me that if I wanted something I should just take it for myself.” Her right hand brushed against his cheek. It felt revolting. He wanted it. He hated it. She continued on. “I really should thank her for this advice. She’s the best.”
Every moment she continued speaking, his mind went wild, trying to find some way out of this. If he could escape without her reloading somehow, then he could find somewhere else to hide. He could ask Alphys for help with her, or maybe Flowey. Anyone would be better than the human.
Her hand moved to his chin.
There wasn’t really a way out of here, was there? His mind was running at a million miles a minute, and yet he was constantly hitting the brick wall that was her.
She raised his chin, forcing him to face her.
What way was there of besting someone so utterly obsessed with you, who also happened to be able to warp time for her pleasure?
Her lips closed in on his mouth just as he reached his conclusion. It was disgusting. He loved her. It was awful. If only this had happened before everything went to shit. He wanted to vomit. He wanted her love. He wanted to die. He wanted this to never end.
There was no way of escaping her, he concluded.
Silence filled the room for a short while as Frisk savored their kiss, only stepping away to catch her breath. He whined in fear. He felt absolutely violated. He didn’t want any of this. And yet what else was there to do?
Perhaps if he just gave her what she wanted there would be less pain. If he accepted it, maybe he’d simply become numb to it.
And yet, there was still that fighting spark left in him. Those years with Frisk had really changed him from the better.
“I hate you,” he spat.
She grinned with glee. Perhaps she didn’t realize love and hate were opposites. He wouldn’t be surprised at this point.
He remained silent, and eventually she let out a little sigh of exhaustion. Then, to his horror, he slowly but steadily laid herself to rest on him. She shifted herself on him, until she felt comfortable, and slowly grew calm.
“I love you,” she finally responded. He ignored her. She went to sleep with an elated smile.
She was light, he’d thought, before he realized just how much physical contact with her disgusted him. He wanted to flee. To run, and vanish to somewhere far away from here. Then he remembered he’d already tried that, and that she’d saved, and any mental strength he’d built up crumbled.
He couldn’t do much but sit still and lament his fate. He was trapped, not physically, but bound in the chains of her obsession.
Perhaps he would have been happier if she was trying to destroy the world. He would have been fine with the sweet, cool embrace of death. Instead, he was trapped in painful reality.
There was no point in agonizing about it. The more he thought, the more he would hurt. It was best to do what he always did: give up. It was over. He didn’t want to. Undyne had taught him to keep going. But that Undyne was gone. Dust in the wind. Not even she could hold up against Frisk. He was nowhere near as strong.
So, as he resigned himself to his fate, he briefly thought back to what he’d always known. If there was a god, it loved his suffering. It loved to see his pain. It ignored any of his prayers, and laughed at all his sorrows. And all he could ask, again and again, was:
Why?