Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The creator a burden, stripped down to dust. 

Forced into creations, and felt it as just.

Dragged down below thee, from world high to low 

Though new worlds apart eat shadow and bone. 

Believed thee worthy, deserved of such pain 

Letting thy soul be torn: battered and strained.

TW!!! ⚠️⚠️ THOUGHTS OF SUICIDE. I’M SERIOUS GUYS, ITS THAT KIND OF ISEKAI, THIS IS A REAL ‘DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT’ FOR LIKE THIS WHOLE FIRST SECTION I’M NOT JOKING MY BETA READERS FREAKED OUT ⚠️⚠️

It hurt you to think like this. But it was simple fact. They hated you, they all did. You had solely believed that your best friend, at least, would have cared. You stopped pretending your family did long ago, but now? Now you were starting to wonder if they were right. How could so many people believe the same thing without somewhere to base it off of? It must have been you. You were the problem, right? You were desperate. You were a mistake. You shouldn’t even exist anymore. Why did you? Because you believed one person cared? No. No, you could’ve gone long ago. Maybe you should've. Look at you, holed up in your room, looking at your shitty Undertale fanfics for fucks sake!

Just look at yourself, man! Was this how you spent your time!?

You cried out in frustration, tearing the closest paper--a fic about the bad Sanses-- to shreds. After a moment filled with only your labored breathing, you cried out again and tore up another. It wasn't enough. You gripped the pages of your notebook, manhandling it compared to the delicate wear it had been lovingly given in previous years. You didn't care if you poured your heart and soul into it anymore. You were angry. You were seething. You were enraged.

Faster and faster, you individually tore each page out, tossing the delicate pieces behind you in your frenzy. You did this until your fingers scraped the empty back of the notebook, signaling its end. Frustrated, you grabbed the shell that was once your book and threw it against the wall. Sobbing, you curled into yourself, flooded with more sorrow than you had expected after previously feeling so outraged at the innocent paper. You hated it. 

You hated yourself. 

Why were you so sad? Why did it hurt so much? You continued to cry, soaking your pants and leaving wet spots on the carpet that muffled your wails. 

But nobody came. 

Nobody would come, because nobody cared. Nobody cared if you threw a fit in your room. Nobody would care if you poured your heart into a fic for them. Nobody would care if you destroyed it. 

Nobody would care if you destroyed yourself. 

It was at this realization, that something clicked inside of you. Something hollow, unmoving, settled in your soul. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to be gone. Dead to this world. You didn't care how painful you went as long as you died, and soon. You deserved whatever pain befell you until then, but you would die.

And if nobody stopped you, your soul decided, it will be by your own hand. 

Something snapped.

Run.

You were dashing through the dirt, the terrain rough and dusty. You didn't know why you were running, but everything inside you was screaming for you to move.

“You dare approach my experiment, and try avoiding the consequences!?” A horrible voice screeched.

You winced, but continued running, holding the package you were carrying very carefully. It was wrapped up, soft and delicate. Nothing compared to the shaking world around you.

“You should be dead!” The voice yelled, and a loud boom could be heard behind you rattling the earth.

Something in the back of your mind agreed. You should be dead. So why are you here?

Another voice snapped you out of it, fading fast.

Focus. Get him to safety. Don’t stop running.

You blindly followed these instincts as you took in the crumbling buildings around you, dodging a collapsing chunk of debris by nearly a foot.

“Our world is falling apart, Sans! We can still save it!”

Save it? Was all this crumbling, somehow because of you?

No. The thoughts snapped again. Don’t fall for it. Not again. Don’t risk losing your package. He’s the only thing that matters.

Your brain scrambled to remember why these things were important, when you heard distant whirring behind you. Reluctantly, you chanced a peek behind you.

You were outside, gray skies and floor surrounding you, the air littered with dust. You were in a crumbling city, and a terrifyingly inky creature was chasing after you. You knew him, you recalled, but you were losing that memory quicker and quicker as you ran. 

The creature, a scientist you swore you recognized, was in hot pursuit. He had a large scar above his left eye, and another to match below the other, destroying his otherwise perfectly white face. His lab coat extruded long black tendrils, acting almost like shadowy legs as he chased you. But he wasn’t the thing that had made the noise, you realized. Your eyes drew up to the gray sky above him, distantly behind you both. Soaring down, lower and lower, was a menacing shape. Descending from the sky to the building you were running from, was an actual bomb.

The weapon was practically only feet away from landing, and with a loud scream you turned on-heel and dashed to the side in hope to find any shelter from the impending impact behind you. A building, half-sunken into the ground, was your only cover. Seeing your only options, you knew where you’d hide. You had no time to settle, as the moment you turned to duck behind it, there was an ear-splitting boom. It rattled you to your core, and almost immediately as you had tried diving behind the building, your leg felt a searing pain engulf its entirety. You ducked, pressing your back to the building. Practically rattling, you found yourself tucking your sizzling leg closer and squeezing your eyes shut. 

The rest of you was fine. Your package was fine. 

Breathing heavily, you subconsciously held the bundle closer to your chest. A few moments passed, most of which felt like they were dragging on for hours, until the barrage behind you stopped. The smoke faded, and you failed to hear the angry scientist behind you, his presence likely gone. You knew it would be too optimistic to hope he’s dead. 

Your ears still felt like they were ringing, and your breaths felt empty as you cautiously opened your eyes. Glancing down, you were immediately met with relief to find your package unharmed, though you struggled to understand why. The searing pain in your leg made itself known as you tried to move, said leg screaming at the gesture. With a wince, you pulled the leg closer to examine it. Yet, to your befuddlement, what you saw was not a leg. Was not your leg, to be precise. 

It was literally, bones. 

You burned your skin off, to the bone.

“Shit!” You exclaimed, panickedly reaching for your ankle.

How could you have not felt this!? Why-

You froze, seeing an unfamiliar hand reaching for your leg. The unfamiliar hand was attached to an unfamiliar arm, in turn covered by an unfamiliar jacket, layered in dirt and soot. Though, that seemed reasonable, seeing as you just barely survived a fucking bombing. Dirt was not your biggest concern.

Shaking, you slowly turned your hand over and brought it closer to examine. You were met with more bone, and phalanges instead of fingertips. Your breath grew heavier, and everything seemed to slow as you carefully turned to the building behind you. Seeing the glint of something reflective, you turned to examine the sideways building nervously. Seeing your own movement on the wall, you realized what you were looking at was just a grimy window. Slowly, you wiped the dirt off with a free sleeve. What you saw could have made your heart stop, and you gasped. 

Your eyelights met your own, yet you knew they truly couldn't have. What you saw before you, was a skeleton, roughed up and as pale as a skeleton could be. Short, round, and carrying a delicate bundle of cloth in their arms. You looked like fucking Sans the skeleton, but you knew truly you could not. Surely, your eyes were playing tricks on you? Yet, despite this all, you could see right then and there the evidence laid before you. You had read about such fanfics, but had never contemplated their wild possibility. 

Suddenly, with a renewed and panicked vigor, you turned and began unwrapping the cloth bundle in your arm. Pulling another strip away, you gasped softly, tense arms loosening in the slightest at the sight. It was a small, albeit slender-skulled skeleton. 

Papyrus. 

His bones were small. Frail, even. He was minuscule as a whole, tucked delicately into the crook of your arm as you’d been subconsciously cradling him, protecting him the whole time. And you wanted to protect him. Had to protect him. You didn't know why, or why you’d even care about a kid like that. Sure he was a Papyrus, but you didn’t even know where you were. What crazy place you were that had casual bombings and crazy scientists claiming you broke their toys.

But again, that fading feeling from earlier sparked to life, albeit faintly. It was almost completely gone now, but everything inside of you screamed that this child was important. Whether it was you, or that weird voice inside you, you didn't know. But what you did know, was that you were going to take care of this kid. 

It was funny, really. You almost laughed, your faint memories of your past seeping back into you as the adrenaline wore off. The memories of your real life. You had so desperately wanted to leave your world in what seemed like a moment ago, now, and here you were. You technically succeeded. You had been intending death, really, and in all honesty? That seemed to still be an option. You wanted an escape. You had so dearly wanted to kill yourself, but now...?

No. You can’t, this time.

Now you had a reason to live. You had a purpose. You couldn't die, not yet. You had to protect Papyrus.

If you died later? Then albeit, you didn't mind.

But if Papyrus needed protection?

Then you’d willingly die trying.

Chapter Text

“Sans!” A high-pitched voice cried out, followed by the sound of muffled thumps running up to you.

You turned, only to be subsequently tackled, small arms wrapping around your ribcage tightly. 

“Woah, Pap!” you gasped with a smile. “I think I'm gonna die, I can't breathe.”

“You don’t have lungs, Sans!” The smaller skeleton child exclaimed.

“Oh nooo,” you drawled, slowly and dramatically sinking to the floor.

You exaggeratedly placed the back of your hand to your forehead, as if growing faint.

“I’m dying, Papyrus. I can see the light”~

Before Papyrus could protest, you slunk to the floor and closed your eyes. Papyrus had barely let go of his hug in time to not be dragged down with you. He huffed, and a long moment passed, filled with silence. Your eyes stayed closed, body unmoving.

“...Sans?”

 “Mhm?” You muttered noncommittally. 

“Are you falling asleep?”

…

“....no.”

“Sans!” Papyrus groaned, leaping on top of you.

You let out a small ‘oof’ at the impact, finally looking up at the toddler with a cheesy grin.

“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.”

Papyrus groaned.

“Saaaans! I wanted to show you something cool!” He exclaimed, still kneeled on top of your chest.

“Alright,” you shrugged, starting to sit up. “Whatever you say.”

Papyrus let out a yelp as you stood, and he suddenly slid off your chest. You laughed, catching him as he fell.

“That's what you get for depriving me of a nap,” you scolded playfully, grumpy skeleton still in your arms.

He was smiling, you could tell, but trying his hardest to hide it. It had only been a few years ago, you recalled, when he was so much smaller. You still remembered the weight of him in your arms, one of your earliest memories since coming to this destroyed world. 

You were glad. Glad to see him growing, becoming a decent person in such a horrible place. Monsters were on the surface, sure, but you had no home. No stores. No anything, considering how many bombs and attacks befell the land, by both human and monster. Everybody hated everybody, and no matter what anyone did, nobody was strong enough to enforce peace.

“Show the way then, bro,” you declared, sweeping a free arm outwards to the crumbling area you were in.

You had hunkered down for the night in what could vaguely be called a house. Walls were ripped apart, the floor filled with dirt and grime from the open weathering, and the roof was practically gone. 

You maybe had enough space for the equivalent of a small bedroom, but it was enough for now. You had expected him to show you to an odd rock, or lead you to a funny looking building. Instead, Papyrus excitedly pulled a small green thing from his ragged jacket, pressing it to your face almost too close to see.

“Look look look look!” He cheered.

You laughed and gently guided his hand a little farther back, allowing you to see. 

“Woah,” you muttered, eyes widening in wonder.

It was a plant. A flower. The yellow petals revealed it to be a creeping buttercup, of all things. It seemed right, in some sick ironic way, that the only living flower would have been a weed. But you supposed only a strong plant such as a weed could survive in a world like this.

“What is it?” Papyrus questioned eagerly.

You gingerly took the flower, looking at it analytically. Papyrus loved it when you told him things about the world, but this was something you never thought you’d be able to show him firsthand. It filled you with a spark of hope.

“A plant,” you explained slowly.

“Like grass?”

“No, not like grass,” you chuckled. “This one is special. This is.... a flower.”

All the plant life left seemed to be a few dead trees scattered around. There was still grass, though they were more-so long-dead patches clinging between pavement cracks and fading fields. It was pale, and sickly. This plant, despite its unnaturally pale nature, was indeed alive. It had somehow survived and bloomed in a world like this. Where had it even gotten sunlight? The dust in the air would have never allowed it, choking it out as it did many monsters. The plant, however, didn’t seem to care. You decided to not mention it being a weed, and continued anyway.

“It’s special. It’s rare, and pretty,” you explained.

Flowers were special. They always were, and that was why people loved them. They were pretty, and something other than the common grass to fill backyards. Papyrus could never understand just how rare these were nowadays, and you only wished you two could appreciate the dying thing more.

“Why's it special?” Papyrus asked curiously, and you smiled gently in return, eyesockets soft.

 “Because it’s a survivor,” you explained. “Flowers are such delicate things. And if this can survive, then any of us can,” you smiled, gently tucking the weed where Papyrus’ ear would be. 

Papyrus smiled, letting you tuck the flower to his skull before giving you a hug.

“Thank you, Sans!” He smiled. “This is so cool!”

You felt yourself relax even more, hugging your brother back with a sad smile. 

Why did this feel so sad?

“It is bro,” you replied fondly. “Just like you.”

Chapter Text

You grabbed your satchel, slinging it over your shoulder with a grunt. “Papyrus, c’mon,” you ushered quietly.

Said skeleton jogged closer to you, and you carefully led him through the rubble nearby. You couldn’t risk staying in one spot for too long, Gaster had been searching more desperately for you. Today, however, every bone in your body had a foreboding sense to it, and you liked to trust your senses. So, you were moving. Again. 

As quiet as you could, you slid down a long-fallen city sign to a platform below, the city’s name rubbed out and long forgotten. Turning around, you watched Papyrus carefully as he followed suit. He slid down to you, and you caught him gently. Papyrus had grown used to moving like this, and seemed to be getting quite good at it, you had discovered with a pang of sadness. Now, all you had to do was-

SNAP

You whipped your head around, still holding the toddler. Something had to have made that noise, and your soul sank. Sure enough, in the distance, you saw the silhouette of a terrifying figure. You immediately recognized it as Gaster. 

He was standing among distant debris, but what made your soul buzz even faster was the fact that he was missing his arms. 

What had happened? How? 

The skull that had been facing away from you suddenly snapped around, locking eyes with you.

Shit.

You bolted, tripping for only a moment before regaining your footing. Gaster dashed after you, practically flying across the ground. He was much faster than before.

So much fucking faster.

You ground your teeth and felt Papyrus clutch your jacket tighter, only motivating you to run faster. You had been running into Gaster a lot more recently, and you failed to understand just why he wanted you so bad. Every time you saw him he was slightly worse for wear, but you had never seen him lose an entire piece of his body like this as one of his shadowy limbs was literally left behind. 

And somehow, despite this, he was still gaining on you. You blinked for only a moment amidst the dust, but opened your eyes to find a wall of fabric had practically materialized in your path. You face-planted into the figure, feeling desperate hands latch onto your shoulders. 

You began to kick and scream as you were raised up, clutching the silent Papyrus tightly. Gathering up your energy, you prepared for a painful teleport, when a skeletal hand came down and crashed onto your skull. Your vision snapped to black.

You heard faint noises, drawing you out of the darkness. The noises slowly shifted to a murmur. The murmur then faded into muttered words, before they grew louder and were directed at you.

“There you are, Sans.”

You didn’t like the voice, and winced. The light above you was bright, too bright, it’s artificial fluorescence infecting the rest of the white room. Your wrists felt chafed, having likely been strapped to the table you were on long ago. 

You could feel straps on your ankles below you, along with your wrists raised above your head on the cold metal table. You were restrained in a lab, like some sort of experiment. You could feel the faint traces of magic delicately laced into the binds, likely to keep you and your own magic put.

“Do not ignore me, Sans,” the voice stated, firm and menacing. “Do you realize what havoc you’ve caused, hiding like that?”

You didn't respond. Either Gaster took your silence as permission to continue, or didn’t care. Likely the latter. You hadn't noticed his pacing until he stopped, the silence of the room growing more ominous by the second.

“We need a strong monster, Sans. Someone to rise up, and put this hell to an end.”

He turned and leaned over your table, hands pressed firmly against its edge. It was here you noticed that the hands were detached, likely due to his lack of arms. How he had somehow lost his arms and still kept his hands, you didn’t know. You don’t think you wanted to know.

“You ran. Like a coward. You were supposed to be a hero, Sans. And you ran. You almost doomed us all over again. I even tried it on myself, to no success.” Your eyes flicked to his lack of arms, to his scars, before flicking back up.

You tried to recall what he was talking about, but only lay there confused and disoriented. You could barely wrap your head around this all.

“I’m sad to say you’re our only option, Sans,” he hissed, words laced with venom. “But you don’t seem to understand that. Don’t seem to care. Somebody needs to put humans and monsters alike in their place, and you refuse to let that happen!”

“I refuse to be your tool!” You snapped, the words blurting out of nowhere amidst your silence.

Your soul practically screamed them out, anger and frustration from this dystopian life for memories you couldn’t recall were pouring out of you. You didn’t know why you ran. Didn’t know why you refused to work with him. But you knew you had a reason, somehow. You knew what you had felt. 

And you felt furious.

“What was that?” Gaster snipped, voice dangerous.

“I don’t give two shits about your perfect world! I don’t care if the world is actively collapsing around us! I won’t help you govern them! I know what you want. I’m not going to be a tool!”

Gaster smiled, the ends of his grin perking just enough to look uncomfortable. It was sharp, and with no joy placed behind it.

“Oh, Sans, you fail to understand. Even after I tried my hardest to continue the mission you ran from…”

Your eyes couldn’t help but drift to his lack of arms, before flicking back up to him yet again.

“Twice,” he growled in emphasis, voice full of darkness. “We have been waiting years for someone powerful enough to put this to an end. You know this. We waited years, and years. Human turning on human, monster turning on monster.”

He leaned in closer, breath brushing against your cheek. “But nobody came.” He laughed humorlessly, leaning away and opening his arms. “We have to make our own, Sans! We can be strong enough, together, to bring peace to the surface!” Gaster’s grin was almost manic now, as he held his arms out in a somewhat welcoming gesture.

There was something about his words, something in them, that told you they were off. That it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t the real truth.

“No,” you snapped, voice final.

Whatever reason had pushed past Sans to run from Gaster, you knew was a good one. Present Sans would respect that. You never cared about what happened to you, anyways.

“Hm, how sad,” Gaster bemoaned dramatically.

The gesture's obviously fake tone caught your attention. You eyed him warily from where your head lay on the table.

“And here I had hoped so dearly it wouldn't come to this.”

A third floating hand spawned out of nowhere, grabbing a scalpel and approaching your face. These hands must have been his bullets, you realized. Ironically convenient for someone without any arms.

“Did anyone ever tell you how pretty your eyes are, Sans?” He prodded gently, voice full of too much excitement to be comfortable with.

The scalpel dragged lower, barely a centimeter from grazing your bone, to point at your teeth. 

“Or how wonderful your award-winning smile is?”

The scalpel dragged lower, its point landing on your trachea cartilage, right at your throat. You tilted your head up nervously, trying to avoid the tip digging into the delicate piece of your neck.

“Or how elegant your baritone voice was?”

You didn’t like how he used the word ‘was’, and tensed considerably. You were about to say something, anything, but you were cut off with the slicing motion of a hand. The blade was slashed across your cervical vertebrae, bone chipping off and falling to dust. You choked out your coughs, a rattling breath being taken in at the pain.

“Maybe that will shut up those witty remarks of yours,” Gaster scolded distastefully. 

He tossed the blade onto a nearby surgical cart, wiping the dusty hand on his pants with disgust. He didn’t even seem to care that it was your dust, treating it as if it was just a mild inconvenience to brush away. Tears pricked at your sockets, chest still rattling as you heaved your breath in. 

Papyrus had always been right in his jests. You didn't truly have lungs. But it wasn't until you lost it that you realized how comfortingly vital your vertebrae had been. Without it, breathing was difficult, barely manageable at the moment. 

You didn't need it, but oh Stars how hard it was to keep running without it, your dust bleeding out of you at the same time. You struggled to stay conscious. No. You wouldn’t lose to him. 

You fought, but inevitably lost as the lack of air hindered your magic from pumping properly. Tears began to pour from your eyes as you accepted your fate. Your tone from before hadn’t been false bravado. Your statements were final. You would not help him.

“Oh, don’t cry, Sans,” Gaster teased. “It is beneath you.”

A hand was pressed to your chest, applying pressure painfully.

 “Are you done? Maybe feeling a little... change of heart?”

You shook your head. You refused to help him. You weren't helping him.

“Even if your life was on the line?” He scowled, face leaning inches from yours as the pressure on your chest tightened. “Even if I tore you apart, bone by bone?”

You shakily opened your eyes, tears still streaking them, as a shit-eating smile crept up your face. You may have lost your voice to the bastard, but it seemed you got your message across clearly. You had already accepted this. You had never valued your life anyways, and no matter how slow and painful the death, your only regret was that it would be to him.

“Ah well, that’s just too bad.”

A door opened, and the rolling of wheels could be heard. A pair of Gaster’s hands entered, hauling a cart in front of them. Its squeaky wheels slowed to a stop beside your head, and you craned your neck to view what was apparently a small TV. 

You ignore the question of how Gaster got a working TV, considering he had a number of interesting pleasantries somehow, and instead focused on why he was showing you. Something told you it wasn’t for bragging rights.

As if reading your mind, Gaster snapped, and the screen clicked to life per. Your sockets widened, spotting a familiar skeleton corralled into a corner of what seemed to be a room: much like yours. He wasn’t restrained, yet there was no one there with him. He was cowering from something, completely alone. He looked scared, and admittedly so were you. Because they had Papyrus. 

They had Papyrus, and you had completely forgotten about it.

“You’re brother’s rather durable, you know,” Gaster pointed out, ignoring the increasing alarm evident on your face. “He may be a child, but he’s grown since I last saw him. He could probably last more than you in time.”

You began to panic, pupils shrinking and tearing from the screen to lock with Gaster’s gaze. 

“No...” You wanted to whisper. No, you wanted to scream.

But you couldn’t, your voice having been lost to the blade from earlier.

No, no! Don’t hurt him! Please!

You were aware of the magic in your restraints, but it wasn’t until your magic burned through you like this that you really felt them. Felt how limiting they were, only when you wanted to rip them off and kill.

“Your brother is ours, Sans,” Gaster continued, despite the intense magic filling the air. “You know he isn’t... eligible for this type of work.”

‘Experiment’, you internally corrected.

He knew you couldn’t do anything. And you hated it. You hated it and you squirmed and writhed even more than before, desperate to somehow escape your restraint and rip the soul from that fucker.

“If we use him, he will die. He is expendable, Sans. Nothing is stopping me from just...”

He waved a hand in the air, in a small circular motion. You didn’t understand until you heard a familiar squeak by your head. Your eyes snapped to Papyrus, as several needles and machines abruptly surrounded him, tips and edges pointing at him dangerously.

‘NO!’

You were no longer questioning how. You weren’t even questioning ‘why’ anymore. Only ‘what’. What did you have to do to stop him? What deal, pact, and sacrifices would you have to make to keep him safe? 

You squirmed and snapped, begging for Gaster to stop in any way you could. The dangerous-looking machines surrounding Papyrus were unmoving, at the ready for Gaster’s command. It would only take Gaster a flick of his wrist, and you one wrong move, to handicap your brother permanently.

“Glad to see we’re cooperating,” Gaster smiled, a few of the machines easing away slightly. “As much as I'd like to prove my point, I suppose I'll show some mercy. I think we both know I would hurt him if I had to,” he practically purred at the idea. “In perfect condition, however? Now that’s quite the bargaining chip, isn’t it?”

You stayed silent, gaze glued to your feet and refusing to meet his stare.

“In return for your cooperation, I'll keep him like this, yes?”

Your gaze flickered, but he caught it. You wanted to respond, but he seemed to figure you out pretty easily. It was unnerving.

“I suppose you refuse unless you can confirm he’s safe, yes?”

You tensed, soul racing at the idea of being able to check on Papyrus.

You knew what he was doing. stars, you knew exactly what he was doing and you were falling for it. Gaster was redirecting your thoughts. Offering what could happen if you agreed, treating you as if you already had. He was right, in a sense, subtly offering something your soul couldn’t resist. You had practically agreed already.

 ‘If you agree to everything else, I’ll give you a chance to talk with him’.

“Regularly, I presume,” Gaster groaned, already deciding your answer. “But know that if I allow you this, it is a privilege. One that can easily be revoked.”

You knew it was just another bargaining chip. You knew how foolish it would be, to give him something else to grab onto. But you so desperately wanted to take it. 

You knew you would still be forced to work with him-- even if you couldn’t see your brother. He could take that away easily, and he knew. It wasn’t a right. Even if he was acting like it, you didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had more of a grasp on you, knowing your weaknesses well. And he was right.

You were greedy. 

You nodded slowly, and Gaster seemed to brighten.

“That is great! It is wonderful to see you cooperating!”

He leaned in with a smile, roughly grabbing your chin. He turned it, forcing you to look at his face uncomfortably close.

“You were right. You are a tool. And from now on, I expect you to act like one.”

You nodded silently, hope draining from you. But there was one thing keeping you there, one that Gaster knew. You couldn’t fall down. Couldn’t die. As long as Papyrus was safe. You would be his tool. You wouldn’t fight. 

Because all the fight you had left in you was for Papyrus.

Chapter Text

“Sans, get your coccyx up and help!” Undyne barked, deflecting a large soldier’s attack with a spear.

You spun, impaling the enemy human with a large bone before running over. The monster attacking Undyne was strong, but you easily raised a hand and blasted it to pieces. The monster’s dust disintegrated, leaving a bad taste in your mouth at the sight. It was almost ironic, seeing as you were technically killing your own species in both senses.

“Don’t make me stay doing your job,” Undyne spat. “Work faster next time.”

You could kill her right then and there. You were stronger, after all. But you both knew you wouldn’t, and she took advantage of that. Undyne had quickly begun working with Gaster, along with many others learning of his plans. 

They spread the idea of “peace” around, something you hated them speaking of within the same breath as Gaster. Undyne along with several others began working under him, hoping for a taste of power and an opportunity for survival. Everybody was in it for something, Undyne most of all. 

The idea of being spared if they work with Gaster, given a chance to feel true power? You hated it, having monsters you had been trained to kill treating you as below them. You were a tool, Gaster had taught you, engraving the idea into your skull completely. You had refused to believe him, the statement a mere concept until you began to think of its truth. 

Was anything but a tool treated like you were? That was how it was. People didn’t ask tools if they wanted to do something. People didn’t talk to tools unless they were needed. When a tool begins to dull, you sharpen it, by chipping away at its old blade and shining it with something new, burying its past for the better future. 

And when a tool stopped working, they would be thrown away. You knew you would be, eventually. You could stop Gaster at any moment now, if you wanted to. And Stars did you want to. If only you could-

“Sans!”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Undyne yet again, as she scowled at you from up ahead. With a slight scowl yourself, you continued paving your way to where you would “collect supplies”.

You knew full well what that meant. It had been blatantly obvious Gaster needed more people to ‘enlist’. Maybe they had finally realized they were killing too many.

Maybe you could find enough willing to change sides.

Not that you cared, but…

Maybe you could make Gaster proud.

“Are you sure that’s it?” Gaster pried. You nodded your head.

It was tedious, trying to relay reports to Gaster. It was unfortunate, seeing he was adamant you do them often. You supposed that was a bit of vengeance seeing it was his fault you were virtually mute to begin with.

“And you don’t think we need any more recruits? Unless you feel you're ready to carry the work of an entire army on your shoulders.”

Gaster was readying you. Making you stronger. But even you knew you weren't strong enough yet. He was testing you again, it seems. Trying to figure out just how close you were to being deemed ready. 

You pulled out your field notebook, quickly scribbling down a response when a skeletal hand forced it to your chest roughly. You looked up to see Gaster’s eyes glint with warning.

“Sans. That is for communicating with field members. I have been teaching you sign for a reason. Use it.”

His tone left no room for arguing, as you nodded slowly. Gaster glared at you again, until you quickly shook your knuckles in the universal sign for ‘yes’. Temporarily pleased, Gaster leaned back into his chair.

“Good. Now, how many resisted...?”

Date: unknown. Pre-muted.

“Papyrus!” You cried, kneeling down as the familiar skeleton tackled you in a hug. 

“Sans! I missed you so much!”

 You chuckled, squeezing him tighter. The empty room seemed a little dull for a reunion, but the two of you had grown used to it, seeing as it was where the best of things seemed to happen nowadays. You pressed your hands to his cheekbones, pulling him away to examine his face properly.

“Are you okay? Are they treating you well?” You fretted, Papyrus squirming and failing to push you hands away.

“Saaans! ‘M fiiiine!” He whined.

You let go, and he stumbled back at your sudden lack of resistance. You chuckled, and he turned to give you a huffy glare.

“Sure,” you shrugged, the mischievous twinkle still in your eye. “Just checking. Anything new happen while I was gone?”

This brought Papyrus’ excitement back, as he began to explain all the cool machines he saw, and how the “lab guy” had given him something new to eat this week. You just knelt there, patiently listening as he explained the intricacies of this new “spaghetti”, and how much better it was than hard tac and oatmeal. He was enthused at how it was apparently easy to make-- at least that’s what the lab guy said, that is.

You smiled softly, reaching down to scruff his nonexistent hair,

“How ‘bout this? When we get outta’ here, I'll find something like that for you to make. m’kay?”

You could almost see the stars in his sockets as he beamed.

“Can it be spaghetti!?” He exclaimed, practically vibrating.

“Sure,” you smiled softly.

You hated to give him hope. To put the idea in his head that you’d eventually escape, and go ‘home’. Honestly, you didn’t even know where ‘home’ was anymore. Or if you’d ever find it. 

But… but maybe you could be a little greedy. Just this once. Let your brother hang on to hope. No matter how miniscule.

No matter how impossible.

Date: unknown. Experiment room.

“We need to make the advancements,” Gaster explained to no one in particular, running about and adjusting things around the all-too-familiar lab room.

You just lay silent, letting him talk uselessly. You know it wasn't aimed at you, probably. You had been strapped to the table again, this time it was tilted at a slight angle. It only made you feel more like an experiment than you already were. Luckily for a Gaster, after long enough of fighting for a cause you didn't agree with you were numbed to the idea.

“We need to amputate a cap, cause a catalyst to check the progress...” Gaster pulled out a few familiar items, gauze, surgical knives, a cotton ball, etcetera. What you hadn’t expected was for him to approach you with a terrifyingly large bone saw. With a sharpie, you saw him ink a few lines on your right arm, and the reality set in.

This was how he lost his arm. 

You were going to lose your arm.

Gaster chuckled, seeing your mind catch up with you.

“Do not worry, Sans,” he stated, placing the blade to the line as if feeling how it felt before he cut. “You have two, after all.”

Your pupils shrank, shaking as you stared at his menacingly optimistic face. You knew you weren’t going to be given painkillers. They wouldn’t be wasted on you.

Instead, Gaster wrapped a dirty cloth around your head to cover your mouth. Less so for your comfort, and more so to help muffle any noises you made during the procedure. 

It wasn't very effective, seeing as your mouth was in a forever-enclosed perma-smile, but it did enough.

“And if it works the first time, I’m sure I can use the other as a fun little back-up,” he grinned.

‘Gaster must have felt a bit of vengeance in this, surely,’ you had thought. 

Some sick, twisted satisfaction, the mockery of Justice in his mind. Having been desperate enough to try twice on himself, and ready to take the failure out on you, you knew it would hurt. 

He slowly raised the saw up, making sure you could see it, before he slammed it into your arm without warning. You may not have had a voice anymore, but you could still scream.

Chapter Text

It hurt you, when you saw Papyrus. He didn’t tackle you or cheer your name when you came in. He just stood there, wary of you. You hated it. You hated the fact that your own brother was afraid of you. 

Papyrus looked at you on the other side of the room, eyes filled with concern. You were sure he felt fear, too. You didn’t move, standing there at the entrance to the small white room. 

You had laughed here together so many times before, but it seemed Gaster’s influence had seeped into the most untouched part of your life. This was supposed to be the safe spot. 

Despite Gaster having kidnapped Papyrus all that time ago, this was where it was supposed to be just you, Papyrus, and the single guard stationed by Papyrus’ door. 

You knew you probably looked terrifying. Your face scarred from being a weapon, that was something Papyrus grew used to. A new scratch or two was considered ‘normal’ nowadays, each with their own story to tell. But not today. Your eyes were fuzzy, and posture slouched more than usual. 

There were more scars than ever before, and you were leaking dust in more spots than could be seen, the wounds horribly fresh from the ‘surgery’. You were still in the sleeveless gown you were forced into beforehand, per normal procedure, and it was coated in dust and tears. 

You were leaning crookedly, holding your shoulder with the hand you had left, likely due to your inherent lack of a right arm. The gauze around your shoulder was poorly wrapped, though you knew Gaster could have done better. You were right to assume he would have fun, the normally meticulous and precion-laced doctor haphazardly sawing into you. 

The memory sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, and you winced at the movement. You may not have valued your life, but you weren't a masochist. It didn't mean it didn’t hurt. Papyrus took a slow, wary step forwards, and you flinched. 

Papyrus stopped, before cautiously picking up his pace. Once he seemed to gain some confidence, he practically bolted at you, bringing you into a surprisingly gentle hug. He only reached your waist, which made it rather odd, but you knew he’d grow taller soon. 

He was hugging gently, as if worried to hurt you. You sucked in a breath as it hitched, and exhaled shakily. Tears began to fill the corners of your eyesockets, and you bent down to clutch at Papyrus. Your one arm wrapped around his back as you sobbed, something you had never let yourself to do in front of him. 

It wasn’t right, that your family couldn’t see you cry, but you had done so much to keep him happy. You knew it was greedy to let yourself. Now, despite all your efforts to avoid something like this, you broke.

—————————————————————-

Date: unknown. Pre-hands.

“Try again,” Gaster snapped, frustrated.

‘It’s not my bullet pattern,’ you signed frustratedly.

Gaster’s face twisted into something menacing. You were a lot slower at sign due to your lack of a second hand, often having to spell words out.

Gaster, however, was adamant you learn how to make your own.

“You’re powerful enough to learn,” he scowled, growing obviously more frustrated.

You faltered, faintly wishing you hadn’t spoken up. It wasn’t something you usually did, you were just unusually snippy today. 

An unwanted trait for a tool.

‘I can’t’-

A firm slap was applied to your face, causing you to break eye-contact. You slowly turned back, rigid. You eyed Gaster, your hand silently lifting up to feel the bone marrow leaking from your face. Huh.

“You are the strongest monster in the world, Sans,” Gaster growled. “The fact you can’t take one hit from me is pitiful. Try. Again.”

You knew you were strong. It took every ounce of your energy to not just blast through the lab walls, take Papyrus and run. But you just couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t gamble a soul like that.

This, however, had never stopped you from making theoretical escape plans. Imagining just how you’d get Papyrus out, where you’d hide, and what you’d do if you were caught. 

But in truth you knew you could never bring yourself to do it. You were already greedy enough, forcing Papyrus to look at your disgusting body with the excuse of ‘checking that Gaster had kept his end of the bargain’. No matter how much you wanted to, you refuse to allow your greed to risk Papyrus’ life. That was too far.

“I said, try again!” Gaster scolded, attempting to smack you again.

You caught the hand, looking at him directly. There was a flicker of something across his face, something you couldn’t place, (satisfaction?) before he corrected himself, another hand raising up and slapping you instead. His sharp phalanges left another trail of marrow leaking from your cheek, right above the last. He had wanted you to defend yourself, and you swore he almost seemed satisfied with your response. Now, however, he seemed to have ruled your actions under basic insubordination.

“We will resume training,” he scowled, backing away and requesting you attempt summoning hands again.

You had to restrain yourself from exhaling a sigh, your soldier mindset taking over. You hated abusing magic like this, but you knew all knives must be sharpened eventually. And that takes some grinding down, first. 

It used to hurt so much to teleport, previously. It would leave you drained for hours afterward. After the experiments, however, you began to feel more and more magic than before. It was one of the few things you could be thankful for from Gaster. You weren’t weak anymore. 

In hindsight, you never really were, but with your human inability to handle such things? The boost had been helpful, even if it was only a step closer to making you Gaster’s living weapon. 

You were ‘privileged’ enough to get personal training from Gaster to continue advancing your use of magic, unfortunately. Undyne and a few others had been forced to train you, but you were never trained nearly as often enough to matter. You would give Gaster answers and your mission reports, and he would teach you whatever he felt he needed his tool to learn that week. 

After learning sign, your lessons with Gaster shifted to your magic more easily, turning into more brutal exercises as he demanded of you things you had never known possible before. Hands, however, you had seen him summon before. This fact seemed to frustrate him even more, as you tried and failed again to summon them.

‘You see them every day, what do you mean you ‘don’t know’!?’ He had snapped.

Each mistake began to lead to punishment, until finally, after 3 more weeks, you summoned 15 hands above you. Immediately, you found yourself collapsing to your knees in exertion. You weren't used to it, and you knew you could handle it eventually, but it took a lot out of you. 

The new magic was something you had only tried once, and the unfamiliar feel of it resonated painfully within you. Gaster was satisfied with the result, smiling as the effort he had poured in seemed to be finally conceiving results.

You were growing used to the hands now. It had felt uncomfortable, wrong to be using another monster’s magic. Sure, physically you could, which was something many monsters could never do from the start. But just because you could, didn't mean your soul liked it. 

It still believed it wasn’t possible, despite the evidence right in front of you, because it shouldn’t have been. It still believed it to be wrong, and often lashed out. It got better, but hurt until you grew used to the hands. This, of course, was only via Gaster’s repeated insistence of their use. 

Constantly ordering you to use your extra hands when completing tasks you could have easily done with one. What he had done to you was irreversible, and the pain of summoning them reminded you all the more that you shouldn’t have this power. 

Not just the power of the hands, but the power to summon them at all. Even when you used them more, grew numb to the sensation, you were still firmly reminded each time you summoned them. The now soft ache in your soul would nudge your consciousness, reminding you how unnatural you now were. How wrong it was. How you shouldn’t have this power. Nobody should.

All the more reason you were a thing,

“Sans? Come. I have something for you,” Gaster called, and you reluctantly came forth towards his office.

You had been on your way to begin your training with Undyne, as she seemed adamant of your practice. Having been tense when her previous training sessions came to mind, you didn’t mind the distraction. Slipping in from the hall, Gaster’s door closed behind you with an ominous click. 

Gaster cleared his throat, and you nervously peeled your eyes from the floor to him. He never liked it when you did that. Saying it made you look weak. He was probably right.

 In his hands, was a familiar, worn notebook. It was your field journal, one you used to use to communicate with the few people that talked to you on your missions. You had needed it less and less, seeing as taking the time to write something out in the middle of a battle was practically pointless now. Instead, you used it in your free time, and had been filling it with-

“Poetry,” Gaster stated, not needing to explain further.

So he did read it. Of course he did. Whether it was actually there or not, you heard disappointment in his tone. You had worried he wouldn’t approve, seeing you using a tool for your own recreational pleasantries, but facing the consequences made your legs tremble slightly. Gaster hadn’t said much else yet, watching you carefully. He slowly undid the leather bind holding it shut, and flipped it to a seemingly random page.

“Dust cleared and battle won, the human fled with their son. With a snarl and thunder clap, Undyne came and snapped his back.”

You grimaced, the memory still familiar in your head. Gaster flipped a few more pages, unresponsive.

“Numbers increasing every day. They unify within the fray. With no leader to pursue, the rebels fell within the sleu. The only option left to save, joining Gaster and his crave.”

He flipped to another, reading various poems off one by one. You didn't know just what he was trying to do. Instil fear into you, possibly? It seemed to be working, each verse he read making you cringe at the private emotions poured into them. 

This was you. What you poured your soul into. Your life, each mission recalled in poetry for yourself to sort through your thoughts. You had refrained from spilling your darkest feelings, for fear of something like this happening. However, it seemed you still had enough personal feeling in it for it to hurt. It hurt, having Gaster look at it. He never promised to stay out of it, so why did it hurt? You knew this could happen. You wrote it down anyways, knowing it wasn’t truly secure. But the feeling still remained. Like he was looking at you. Through you. This was you, even if just a part of it.

“Darker yet darker, the darkness grows. Magic not mine consuming my bones. The pain always gnawing, but not quite all there. Power engulfing, too much to bear.”

Gaster slowly closed the book, looking back to you. To your surprise, he handed it back, and you looked up in confusion. He circled around his desk, rifling around under it before pulling out two more small notebooks, similarly leather in nature.

Approaching, he stacked them atop the one in your hands.

“I expect you to journal your missions from now on. Fill me in on what happens on the field, leave no important detail out.”

Gently, you ran four phalanges across the leather of one of the new journals.

“I am disappointed in you, Sans,” he scolded, his darker voice making you wince. “But, I do hope these reports prove to be more effective than your verbal ones. Try to refrain from filling them with nonsense. I expect you to write one for each outing, recruitment, or assasination you are sent for. Return it to me after 5 missions for me to view, and do not dally with it. Seeing as you’ve learnt your sign and magic, these will be replacing your reports from now on. Maybe now you’ll have more time to train.”

You began nodding numbly, still shocked. It hurt. He had dug through the few things you had to your name, and had the audacity to view the journal, even after learning what it was full of. That it was private to your nonexistent heart. It seemed to inspire him, at the very least. 

You didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

But of course Gaster wouldn’t care. Was this your punishment? Taking away the hobby you loved most? You knew you shouldn't have been doing it in the first place, but it still felt as if you were being deprived of a right. 

Of course Gaster wouldn’t care. He never agreed to leaving your stuff alone. Heck, he never left you alone. Why did you care? You knew this already. You had stopped caring for things so long ago, why had the poetry suddenly felt so personal? Why on earth had you thought it was safe?

This was nothing new. You were foolish, and grew attached to something. Made something, that was practically just you on paper. It was just another thing for Gaster to be able to take hold of. To manipulate. The more you loved, the easier you were to control. The larger grip you gave Gaster. You didn’t need it, and you shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t. The only thing for you to love anymore was Papyrus, and it would always be. Stars-damnit if you were gonna give him another foothold in your soul.

“Speaking of training, I believe you should be getting to yours. Undyne had wanted to get you moving faster today. Avoid delays like last week.”

You winced, leaving the office with the journals. Gaster smiled, watching the door slowly close behind you. 

He was almost there, he knew. Sometimes you need to break the bones to correct them, is all. If this exercise worked, they would move on to the next step. Getting rid of the emotional attachments came first, however. As much fun as blackmail and hostage practices were, one was enough trouble. 

And if it just happened to help crack you for him? Well, that was just a bonus.

Chapter Text

Date: unknown. After journal assignment.

You watched the fire with a neutral expression, monitoring its size as it consumed the parchment excitedly. The sharp flames licked around it invitingly, but you knew better than to reach for it.

Watching the poetry book burn, you felt Gaster’s newer journal placed carefully in your pocket. It hurt you, on some metaphorical level in your soul, to see you burn the original. Sure, it was sad to lose all that work. That would make sense to most. But the fact was that, at the time—this had intended to be you— hurt you more than you thought. You were watching yourself, everything you loved and believed and feared oh-so so carefully fly up into ashes, along with your life. That was okay. Your life didn’t matter. You didn't matter. You were a tool, after all, and tools didn’t feel thumbs. Told didn’t need to be expressed. You didn’t need a piece of paper to sort through yourself, this life wasn’t some therapy session. Tools didn't need therapy. You had nothing to lose, and yet you felt as if letting this happen was such a loss? How foolish.

Gaster was right.

Entry one: Warm season, likely January.

Gaster has requested I record each mission in this journal. Although I have yet to have a new mission, I have decided to start the journal before I begin. The journal does not need professional formatting, but an introduction is due. I was foolish to waste my time on unnecessary activities. I do not need poetry to do my job.

Entry two: Warm season, likely January.

Undyne was present for the mission. Several willing volunteers were found. They were weak, likely seeking protection. They were willing nonetheless, despite their motivation. We did not need most, Undyne claimed they could be put to use, and I still have my doubts. We killed only one, the recruit being unable to walk and deemed useless. They would have died anyways to the other monsters. Undyne seemed disappointed at the number, but confirmed we could find a purpose for them to function.

Entry three: Warm season, likely January.

The recruits were resistant. I had to put a particularly rowdy down. The others obeyed after that. No other comments.

Entry four: Warm season, likely January.

More monsters resisted, along with a group of humans. We came across another small band of them instead of recruits. Per usual, it weakly formed with the motivation of stopping Gaster. It fell apart like the others quickly. We smothered them just in case. The mission was a success, though no new recruits were gathered.

Entry five: Colder season, likely February

Entry six: Colder Season, October.

Gathered more recruits. One of them had been uselessly keeping up with the date, and an accurately made calendar had been confiscated. It seemed a little pointless to have made, though it is nice to know the date. Turns out it’s October. I will not be updating my other entries with the revelation, I do not know how recent the change of month has been. All confiscated attachments have been properly burned and disposed of.

Entry six: October

More recruits. Another resisted, a human. Their entrails are likely still hanging on the wall.

Entry eight: October

Walked for a few hours. No people found. Nothing other of note happened. No recruits.

Date: unknown. Before muted.

……

You were sick. Horribly, horribly sick. You were the strongest monster in the world now, why did you feel this way? The hunger had been getting to you, but you refused to make excuses for your faults. You weren't strong enough, nobody could afford to waste more food on you. You sat up with a grunt, metaphorical stomach rolling in protest. Your magic cried for sustenance, but you had eaten a slice of toast yesterday, so you knew asking for more would have been greedy.

“Good. You're up,” a feminine voice spoke, catching you off-guard.

Turning, you were shocked to see Undyne sitting by your cot, reading something.

“What?” She snapped, catching your stare.

“What are you doing here?” You got straight to the point, confused.

“Well what was I supposed to do, leave Gaster’s toy in the middle of nowhere? Psh, no thanks, I like staying in one piece,” she growled, eyes returning to the book.

In the middle of nowhere? You wracked your mind, trying to recall what you had been doing before waking up here. You were in a field, Undyne was helping you search for supplies. You... fainted? Tripped? You didn't know, but Undyne must have carried you back. You were startled when a slice of bread was shoved near your face, flinching.

“What?” You queried, confused.

“Eat,” she demanded.

Gingerly, you took the bread as she returned her hand to the book.

“Why?”

“You’re starving. Can’t have that.”

 “But, how did you convince Gaster to”-

“I didn't. I stole it,” she smirked. “I don’t care how fucking strong you are, if you die to something as stupid as starvation, it's my butt that’d be getting whooped for it.”

You faltered, but seeing as her eyes never left the pages, you slowly nibbled on the corner. After a few more bites, your system grew used to the feeling of eating and finished the slice. You felt a little sick at the prospect of eating too fast, but had grown used to it. It was bread, you could have eaten worse things.

“Your entries are boring,” Undyne eventually huffed, your eyes flicking to her.

“You're reading my journal?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

It didn’t particularly bother you. It’s not like there was anything interesting in there anymore. How long had she been waiting here, to actually bother reading them? You'd be offended at her nosiness if you cared anymore.

“You put the bare minimum in, and that’s it? No thoughts?”

“Gaster doesn’t need any more than that,” you stated, as if it were obvious. “What I think doesn’t matter to the missions.”

She huffed, handing you the notebook.

“Whatever you say, then,” she decided. “Maybe put a little more soul into it? It’s kinda dead.”

She smirked a little, leaving the room with her hands in her pockets. 

Maybe you could put a little more effort in.

Entry 22: Chilly, Warming up, likely March

Returned to field. Supplies found. Perishables disposed of.

It was cold outside.

Entry 23: Chilly, Warming up, likely March

More recruits. Undyne came with. Surely we are getting close?

Something had changed during training. Undyne seemed to be going... easier on me? If that was possible.

 Entry 28: Chilly, Warming up, likely March

More recruits. 6, if I recall correctly. I should likely start keeping track. If we weren't close before, surely we are now.

Entry 36: Warming up, likely April

Undyne assisted me again. We gleaned 26 from the mission. …How many more do we need?

Entry 45: Warming up, likely April

Found 5 new recruits. Gaster says we still need more. I no longer question or wonder why or for how long. It is pointless. Only one fatality, a suicide upon returning. Now only 4 recruits total.

Undyne made a joke. Something about me being big-boned? I didn't get it. She had fun with me, though. She laughed. It was odd. She almost seems to like me.

Entry 49: Warming up, likely April

Training paid off. We intercepted a larger group of rebels. …They seem to be growing.

Entry 58: Warm, likely May

Four recruits gained. Nothing of note.

Entry 82: June

They are foolish to hope. To count. I stopped doing that long ago, maybe some training could whip them up like you. 

Eleven dead, I do not know how many were of the resistance or neutral party. One was gained, a child. Weak, but still useful. Undyne said he always found a use. The others were likely already in training. I hope they turn out to be useful.

Chapter Text

Gaster glowered at the wall, thoughts flailing about with the next step soon to come. One of his hands drifted to his skull, ghosting over the crack protruding from his upper socket. 

Removal of Sans’ arm had proved useful, it seemed. With how much strength was flowing through every inch of him, the lack of arm redirected the excess magic back to his soul. A catalyst. Clot. You do not need a second arm if your improved magic makes up for it. He was better. Stronger. 

But Gaster needed more. Time was running out, and Sans wasn’t nearly powerful enough to kill them all yet. A little extra boost couldn’t do all that.

He hadn’t expected Sans to run, way back when. Before he was captured. He thought Sans would agree, that they could reign together.

But he fled to that blasted machine. An explosion like that should have killed him, but he willingly destroyed it. And survived. He likely knew Gaster would kill him anyways when he did it, destroying their project.

Years of work, set back by one foolish tantrum.

It made Gaster sick.

He had tried so hard to move on, even tried giving himself the power of the void, but he hated knowing it could never be done without Sans. Even now, after that blasted explosion, Sans came back different and he still needed him. Relied on him.

Sans didn’t need to know that.

Grumbling, Gaster folded another pair of hands behind his back, the first hand still floating above the scar. The permanent evidence of his mistakes, regarding the trial. Their first attempt at creating that machine. Proof that the last time he had done this, it had failed.

He paused, hand hovering, before shifting his face into a glower. 

‘It wouldn't this time’, he reasoned. 

Sans could handle pain. And now, his body was strong enough to handle the gouging. Gaster's smile rose wicked. 

He would get revenge. 

Revenge for forcing his hand all that time ago.

And that machine would work.

The socket was cracked, spider-webbing outwards from the center. The impact of the syringe had likely rendered the right eye permanently blind, yet Gaster didn’t mind. Sans only needed one, anyways. Gaster had been ecstatic entering the test room, and especially so after stabbing Sans’ socket with the point of injection. 

Gaster found an unusual sort of joy in seeing the skeleton’s face twist, likely something to look into later. Unfortunately, he only managed to inject half a dose of his own magic before Sans lost consciousness. Pitiful, it seemed. Sans needed a full dose for it to truly affect him. 

That was fine. He didn’t need Sans to be undefeatable just yet. Only strong enough to mark his progress, to prove it was still possible. Gaster could add more later, once he saw how Sans reacted to the foreign magic he already has. 

He had taken to Gaster’s bullet pattern well, Gaster made sure of it. Sans was reluctant, it seemed, to use the extra appendages. But Gaster did not let him go until he knew Sans could use the hands. Until he fought with them. Gaster knew it was possible, now. Sans was compatible. With enough doses of Gaster’s own magic, Sans will have double what a normal monster could stand, functioning, and rendering him strong enough to rule.

Placing the syringe down, Gaster grabbed his notebook and began writing. 

‘Due to Sans laying unconsciously prone, the procedure was not nearly as fun as it could have been. He stopped taking in magic, and wasn’t conscious enough to be forced to.’

 Scribbling this down, Gaster’s gaze drifted to one of his hands. It was shaking, attempting to write and doing so at a snail’s pace. With another hand, Gaster steadied it with a dissatisfied hum.

‘It’s taking a toll on me as well, it seems. That is acceptable. It will not matter in the end, when we are the strongest. When I rule.’

He smiled, looking to his tool laying unconscious across from him.

‘Order will be found.’

Chapter Text

Silent, it took a moment for you to notice the wet feeling on your cheek. Black was oozing from your socket as result. After Gaster took your eye, the leaking had become an unconscious side-effect when you grew upset.

It was a lot harder to reign in your internal emotions like that, something you’d have to learn in time. That was fine, emotions were an unwanted trait anyways. You wiped the viscous substance with a sleeve, eyelights falling back to your target.

    Covered by the dry excuse of bushes, you were not as well hidden as you would have preferred. The black substance dripping down your chin only further proved to yourself you were losing your nerve.

    Habitually, you reached up and hooked your fingers into the socket. The now-dead hole in your skull continued flowing anyways, and you reluctantly gave up wiping the liquid away. You were stressed, it seemed, and the socket didn't care if it spilled everywhere because of it. Hm. Counterproductive.

    Normally, all you had to do was ‘gather’. Gather monsters and force them to join Gaster, kill those who refuse. But now? Now you had been forced to watch. You felt something akin to a growl building in your chest.

    You were not built for spying. Your form was built for stealth, but you weren’t made to do nothing. You were silent, a deadly mute capable of sneaking up on any foe and slitting their throat. And here you were, playing cat in an empty field with no prey to pounce on. You were supposed to find where monsters tended to congregate, and the waiting ached. You could feel the tingling in your bones, the LV, waiting for action.

‘Do not attack. Do not gather. Communicate only if necessary. Don't scare them from returning. We need to know where to recruit for future reference. Gather any information you need.’ Gaster’s curt voice reminded you, reciting the minimal information you had been provided.’

They needed the knowledge, you had learned, but that was all you were given. Your phalanx twitched, itching for a fight. Why were you so antsy today? You thought you could control yourself better than that. Crunching up ahead snapped your attention, and you found yourself eyeing the rocky field before you. 

A few more fumbling noises were made, before a small, lizard-like monster stumbled forth. You lurched, catching yourself before you could lunge out of hiding.

'Not an enemy’, you reminded yourself.

Slowly, you lowered back down into a crouch. It was a child, it seemed, by the roughed-up stripes he was in. He had no arms, you realized, as he ran around. Children were rare nowadays. 

    It was hard enough for them to survive, but they weren't really made anymore. That was likely due to the requirement of two monsters loving each other enough to make one, but the fact still stood. You contemplated what to do, as the kid began trotting past your place of hiding. 

    He had a scratch on his face, looking ready to bruise, along with dull claws on his feet. His tail swept confidently from side to side, before he tripped over his own feet and propelled forwards. Decision made, you shot an arm out and caught the kid. Slowly emerging from the bushes, the child shook their head before peering up at you.

“Yo! Thanks, dude!” He exclaimed, quickly straightiny from your hold and beaming. “That was so cool! You're fast!”

The boy seemed to realize something, pausing.

“Wait, were you sitting there the whole time?”

You didn't answer that, eyelights gliding to the side and avoiding his gaze. What was this feeling? You hadn't felt embarrassment in a long time. You weren’t awkward. You didn't care, normally. Why did you feel this way?

But the kid only perked up.

“That's awesome!” He cheered, leaping up from your support and immediately toppling over in his excitement.

He face-planted to the floor, and you winced. That must have been where the previous bruise came from. He scooped himself up, continuing energetically as if nothing happened.

“I didn't even see you!” He exclaimed, tail wagging excitedly. “You're like a ninja!”

You felt your skull warm, gaze averting his even more. You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly.

“I’m MK!” He exclaimed. “Most people don't like me, but you seem nice, so I'll tell you a secret.” He leaned in, whispering as if exchanging top secret information.

“I'm a lone wolf, and a spy!”

You felt a smile crack up your face under the mask. You absently wondered if he could see it through the bottom. Leaning away, MK continued his previous train of thought.

“I'd shake your hand, buuuut I don't have arms. Well, honestly, I probably wouldn't shake your hand even then, but it's the thought that counts!”

You had the sneaking suspicion that's not what that phrase meant. 

“So what's your name? Ninja spy to ninja spy, ya’ know?”

You wanted to chuckle, but your throat didn't feel like going through the effort of trying. Instead you let out a few faint wheezes resembling a laugh, a sound so quiet it was just barely caught by the child. Slowly, you raised a hand, signing. MK cocked his head to the side, a questioning look on his face.

“Yo, what's with that weird hand-waving?” after a few more moments, eventually you gave up, dropping your hand.

“Sorry man, can't ya’ just talk?”

You wavered, before shaking your head.

“Aw, man. But we still need a naaame!” He groaned.

Looking around, he did a full 360 to view his surroundings. His face lit up, as he bent down, rummaging in the dirt. He arose with a rock clamped in his maw, beaming.

“How ‘bout Rocky?” He questioned, words muffled by the rock in his mouth.

You managed a chuckle this time, shaking your head. The sound hurt your throat, but you would live.

Spitting the rock out, he yanked a tuft of long-dead grass up victoriously.

“Or Planty?” He offered, several blades of the vegetation falling out of his maw as he spoke. 

You shook your head again with a quirked grin.

Pouting, he let the rest of the weed fall from his teeth.

“Welp, I'm all outta ideas. And I don't think there's any other plants around...”

He looked around, as if believing the answer would suddenly present itself. Interestingly enough, it seemed it did. Straightening, he began running back to a crumbling building a few feet away.

“Hold on! I have an idea! Wait there!”

After only a few moments, MK returned with a large book in his mouth, only tripping once on the way. Spitting the book to you, he gestured for you to sit as you opened its worn bind. Placing it on the dirt between the two of you, MK began gesturing to the pages, pointing with his tail as he spoke.

“There’s a bunch of stuff in here! I can't read, but look, there's pictures! You can just point to one and I'll figure it out! Just don't pick one I don't know, okay?”

Sated by his invaluable child logic, you began flipping through the pages. It was a little unfortunate to have your name limited to mere objects of research, but there was indeed quite the number of plants in the pages, so you supposed you could have had worse options. He may not have realise this, but it was a book on gardening, with rather limited options of communication.

“Oh, that one I know! It's a lilac!” MK exclaimed, tail pointing at a small blue flower.

It was in fact, not a lilac, but a hydrangea. You didn't correct him.

“And that one’s a cris... chrys... crass...”

‘Chrysanthemum’, you urged internally.

“A big flower!” He decided, giving up entirely on trying to pronounce it. You wondered where he had learned that name, seeing as he couldn't read.

Eyes scrolling through the text, you landed on a small page full of white flowers. The image depicted a field of small white shapes spread through a flood of grass. Catching your gaze, MK looked down.

“Clover?” MK prodded, cocking his head to the side. “Isn't that a weed?”

You smiled softly, reaching out to gently touch the picture. It was perfect.

“I mean, if you really want, yo. I guess it kinda sounds like a spy name, right? Like a code or something.

You nodded. It was A sad flower, really. You felt it was fit, seeing as it was a weed. It represented struggle for freedom, you recalled. But in truth, that wasn't why you liked it. Your mind drifted back to Papyrus all those years ago, when he saw his first flower. You never really were a plant person, coming to regret not appreciating them in your life long gone. But you've come to respect a good weed, now. It takes one to know one, you suppose.

“Okay then,” MK spoke up in finality.

He looked up to you with a twinkle in his eye, grinning wide. “Let’s try this again. Howdy there, Clover! I’m MK!”

You picked up the mask, leaning against an old doorframe and brushing it off. The dust in the air was thick today, and so far you had found no new recruits. You sighed, staring off into the ruined city. Slow days were the worst for you.

     Focus shifting back to the mask, you lifted it up, examining the cracks on the right side. Almost half of the mask was broken, likely deemed useless by any other monster. 

    You let out a small hum in acknowledgement, turning the smooth piece around in your hands. It looked like it had been white, before the dirt had smothered it so. It has two large holes, eyes, with a mesh for the user to safely see. Shuffling in your jacket pocket, you pulled out a small knife and began whittling at the firm material.

     Carving out half of the mask, you let the broken side fall to the floor as you smoothed the other’s edges. Its band wore a small black clasp, one you easily tied to the single half and clipped shut. Fiddling with the clip for a while, you eventually brought it to your face and clipped it around your skull. 

    It covered half of your face, something that would have been pointless for anyone else. Conveniently for you, it covered your damaged eye, the one that oozed magic. Until you figured out how to smother the emotion, the mask could cover any leakage.

    You nodded in approval, deeming the article worthy. You hoped Gaster would approve, the item would be useful avoiding hindrance in your progress with him. Crossing your arms, you leaned further into the doorframe, its building long gone and rubble. Staring out into the open grounds again, you spent the day watching for more monsters. 

Nobody came.

Chapter Text

Bonus doodles:

Okay, now back to your regularly scheduled angst.

————

Date: unknown. Pre- muted…?

“Sans!” Papyrus cried, running up and tackling you, per the usual.

“Woah, bro. Haha, glad to know ya’ missed me,” you smiled.

“Sans, where were you!? You were gone last week and I was so worried!”

You grimaced. You recalled Gaster having put you on the field again, and you ended up staying longer than expected.

“Don’t worry bro, just work stuff. I'm fine.”

“Good! Because I'd be really mad if you weren’t!”

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” You chuckled.

Bending down, you grabbed Papyrus’ ankles and picked him up, gravity making quick work of flipping him upside down.

“Wh-Sans!” Papyrus exclaimed.

You laughed, swinging your little brother up and over onto your shoulders. He landed on your uniform with a soft *fwump*. Re-adjusting your grip, you held onto the legs hanging over your shoulder to hold him in place. Papyrus giggled, bopping you on the head.

 “Sans! Don’t do that!”

“Whaaaat?” You gaped with a smile. “You don’t like it?”

“No!” Papyrus huffed, turning his head to hide his smile. “I’m a big boy now, I don’t need to be carried! Ever! Even for fun!!!”

“Ah, well in that case...” you let go of his legs and started to lean backwards, allowing gravity to take him.

Papyrus’ hands scrambled to wrap around your face, trying not to fall off.

“Wait, wait!”

You leaned back up casually, Papyrus’ grip on your skull loosening.

“What? I thought you didn’t like my piggy back rides anymore?” you pouted, batting your eyelids sadly.

“Lemme get off first!” He giggled.

“My bro’s all grown up,” you sighed wistfully, ignoring his request with a mournful expression. “How else am I gonna fulfill my destiny of becoming the world’s best ferry? And who am I gonna carry around all day? Whatever shall I do?”

Papyrus began to fret.

“Fine! Y-You can carry me if you want!” Papyrus quickly declared, patting you on the skull. “N-Not that I care or anything! But if you need someone as great as me to be a lookout, the great Papyrus can do it! But, uh, only for you. Because I’m still a big kid!”

He laughed a few small ‘Nyeh-heh-heh’s’ at his brilliant idea, placing a valiant fist to his puffed out chest. 

“Thanks, bro,” you smiled. “Whatever would I do without you?”

“I don't know!” Papyrus chirped from your shoulders, beaming. “You’re rather lucky!” 

“That I am, bro. You’re the coolest skeleton I've ever met, by far.”

“Well then, you're the second-coolest!” 

“It is an honor.”

Papyrus laughed his proud ‘Nyeh-heh-heh’s’ again. The two of you bickered and laughed until the hour was up.

“Clover! Clover! I think I'm onto a big one!” MK cheered, tail wagging energetically as he ran up to you. “I’m really gonna catch some bad guys! For real!”

You cocked a brow at him, a sly smirk creeping its way up your face. You’d heard this many times before.

“Oh don't look at me like that! I’m serious! I’m for real this time, for real! Even Mom would be proud! I mean, don’t tell me you find all the bad guys on your first try, right? Okay, maybe don't answer that, you probably find them all because you’re super cool and stuff…”

He began muttering excitedly under his breath, your grin growing solemn. You didn’t have the heart to tell him what you actually did for ‘work’, seeing as how he viewed you as some kind of superhero. That was fine. He could enjoy his fantasies until he grew an bit older, and you wouldn’t stop him.

“Yo, yo, guess what I got!” MK suddenly blurted, losing his previous train of thought completely.

He bounced up and down, barely waiting for a reply before hurrying off into the dusty rubble. He returned brandishing a large stick between his teeth.

“Mmphf mrgphm!”

He spat the stick out, continuing the previous sentence you didn’t even understand.

“And even if I can’t read, you can draw with it, so I can see what you’re thinking, yo!” He finished.

If his tail wagged any faster, you fear he’d fly away.

You carefully picked up the stick, rubbing a patch of dust and gingerly testing the tip against it. After a moment of aimless scribbling, you drew a question mark and looked up hopefully.

Beaming at your usage of the tool, MK’s grin stretched wide on his small face.

“Well, tell me about yourself! What kinda’ cool spy stuff do you do? Why’re you lurkin’ around here all the time? What are your spy friends like? Can I meet them? Do you have a family?”

You smiled fondly. Reaching down, you prepared to draw the story of your favorite skeleton.

___________________

Your voice was coming back. Slowly, but surely. You were… excited? Papyrus had been ecstatic, even if all he heard were your hoarse attempts at talking. You just had to wait a bit longer, and you could surprise MK, too. You smiled. He’ll finally get to hear your voice, and for some reason, that felt like it would be a monumental moment.

After a few more sessions of charades, you’d learned MK’s parents had died to Gaster’s army in the war. You would have winced a bit more in the past, but now you only felt silently guilty. You wouldn’t tell him the truth. Not ever.

You wondered if you’d ever met them on the battlefield.

You wondered if they looked anything like MK did.

You refused to think about how you may have killed them.

You told him more about Papyrus instead, how you thought they would get along. He clearly agreed.

MK said that the two of them would become the best heroes on the surface one day, saving people and beating up bad-guys.

You could see it.

—————————

“We found this whelp sneaking onto the premises, sir,” one of the guards declared, approaching Gaster.

The pair held the squirming stowaway between them, far overpowering the small monster.

“Then what are you doing here? Have Sans dispose of it, that is its job. I do not need this interrupting my work,” Gaster scolded. Why were they bringing some random outsider into his lab? He was busy.

“He claims to be a rebel of sorts. A spy, perhaps?”

“Just you wait!” The monster gasped, breaking their mouth free from one of the guards’ hands. “When my friend find out about this, he’ll kick your butts, you bad-guys!”

The second guardsman quickly smothered his words with a claw, gripping the rebel’s shoulders tighter to their chests.

“I said, use the tool,” Gaster snapped. “I do not care about some scrawny hot-shot claiming to have any foothold in our forces. That is a child. He’s playing make-believe. He is no spy.”

The guards looked away at his scolding, and Gaster grit his teeth in annoyance.

‘I’m here’, you signed, swiftly approaching Gaster’s desk. ‘what do you need?’

“Good,” Gaster grunted. “Deal with them. I want to see ‘IT’ gone before dinner.” He gestured curtly to the two guardsmen, both restraining the small monster in a way that blocked it from your sight.

”The next time a child gets past our guards like this, somebody is becoming training fodder,” Gaster spat pointedly, the two soldiers tensing up at the threat.

With a nod, you walked a few feet away from the desk, the guardsmen following across from you and positioning the struggling victim to try and get their chest in the open. They knew the protocol. It was unusual, however, to be exterminating someone on the premises. How a child found his way onto it was a question they didn’t know the answer to. Patiently waiting for the guards, Gaster scribbled away at his desk, not caring much for the common procedure. Finally, the guards adjusted their grips to be holding the arms of the monster, rendering them open to your inevitable attack. Except, one thing caught you off-guard as they moved further from the figure. They were holding his shoulders. The monster had no arms. Two, bright orange eyes frantically darted around in the light, quickly landing on you.

If you had blood, it would have run cold.

“Oh, Clover!” MK cheered.

His tail wagged rapidly, despite being restrained for target practice. 

“I told you I was on to something!  I knew you'd come, and these jerks didn’t even believe me! Hurry up and help me kick these bad guy’s butts!” MK exclaimed, continuing to squirm in the tight grasp of his captors.

You stiffened, feeling Gaster’ eyes slowly shift to you. 

“Yo… why are you just standing there?”

Your gaze flicker to Gaster, finding he was indeed staring at you.

“Sans, what are you waiting for?” Gaster treaded slowly, eyes darkening in the slightest.

There was an undertone of threat in the voice, causing your eyes to reluctantly focus on MK again.

“Clover….” MK’s voice wavered. “C’mon! You can beat ‘em up, right?”

Silently, you looked down, finding the floor to be a much better in-between.

“Oh. Oh, Sans,” Gaster’s voice began, the realization dawning on him. “You wouldn't know this monster, would you?” 

His voice pricked up near the end, cautioning the danger evident in his tone..

“S-Sans? Y-Yo, you didn't mean…?”

Your eyelights slowly looked up, and that was all the answer MK needed. He slumped, dumbfounded eyes searching yours for any hint of deceit. He found none.

“You got attached,” Gaster mused, and you felt his hovering presence slink behind you. He wrapped around you, curling around your spine like smoke. “What do you know?”

He leaned in over your shoulder, face inches from hours in an almost abrasive lack of touch. You could feel cold sinking into you wherever his fake hands made contact, gripping your shoulders and leaning heavily.

“What I want to know, is where?”

You didn't answer, eyes glued back to that one spot on the floor. With a ‘tch’, Gaster shoved away, turning to approach his desk. With his back to you, he continued, taking a seat.

“I suppose we won't be needing those outings anymore.” You repressed a flinch. “Enough monsters have congregated for us to start harvesting again. They think it’s a safe space. This one knows too much, anyways. It wouldn't be a problem if he weren't spunky enough to do something about it, now would it? But he managed to sneak into base, so I’d say that is danger enough. I have done what I need, you may now eliminate the child.”

He waved you off, as if you were simply waiting for his permission to continue, before working on notes again.

After a few moments of silence, and a pervasive lack of magic firing. he slowly looked up, sharp eyes watching you.

“Well?”

You examined Gaster, before turning to MK. Dangling there, innocently, he just watched you. Catching the conflicted glint in your eye, somethung seemed to sink in, and he smiled. It was a watery, weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. Tears began streaming down his cheeks, as you shakily raised a hand to fire.

He only let out a soft “oh,” before scrunching his eyes in another hollow grin. “I-I guess you weren’t a good guy… huh?” He paused. “…Thank you… for being my friend.”

Then, you stabbed him, and… and he let you. 

Acceptance.

Acceptance from the kid that was always fighting.

Hw still cared. You still cared.

You had never seen him go so still. He was always moving, be it swaying, swinging his tail, or just bouncing around with that seemingly boundless energy of his. Even if it ended up with him face-down on the floor most of the time. But he just… gave up. And now, seeing his body slumped as it was before one would dust, he was more still than you’d ever wanted to see him.

You didn't blast him. A kid like him didn't deserve that. He got a quick death, a single strike, one where his dust fell as naturally as it could from a being like you. From a freak. 

Your posture was back in check now, stiff and orderly. What could show, was reigned in to the point even you feigned ignorance. You tricked yourself, sometimes, of your own apathy. Your emotions were hard to control, something you always struggled with, but you could smother them enough to fool Gaster.

The only evidence of you caring, was the stream of agonizing black trickling from your dead socket down your chin.

Chapter Text

Art by: @MoofAloof on YT!

If you make any fanart, go ahead and link me your socials so I can feature the stuff you make for the story! (And also screech at it in disbelief like some sort of ecstatic raptor.)

Now, back to your regularly scheduled angst. Again.

—————————

You finally talked again. Gaster likely still prefers you muted, but you allowed Papyrus to hear, and hugged you.

Though the words you chose were minimal and croaky, you could speak.

You wished MK could hear it, too.

 Date: present.

You tugged on your turtleneck, releasing the heat that had been building up under it yet again. You had this... foreboding feeling welling up inside you. Normally you’d say it's just the LV talking, but it wasn't bloodthirst, or just paranoia. It had been nagging at you all day. You tugged the fuzzy hood of your uniform jacket, adjusting it to be closer to your neck. What didn't help your nerves, was that Gaster was late. Gaster was never late. You sat in an office chair by the door, phalanges nervously tapping a field journal that Gaster was supposed to have today. What was happening? You were snapped out of your thoughts as the door opened, Gaster walking through. Two familiar floating hands trailed behind him as he turned to you.

“Sans. Come.”

You didn’t question him, nor why he was late. He wouldn’t appreciate that. You followed him down the hall in silence. You had no place to say, but Gaster looked... Worn? Tired? Worried? You shook off the idea, following dutifully behind as he led you to the lab room. He gestured to a familiar steel table amongst the white, and you obeyed. Placing the journal on a nearby desk, you walked over and hopped into a sitting position on the cold metal. Gaster was looking through some nearby drawers, before finding some miscellaneous tools and approaching you. Must have been a new experiment today. It had been a while. You had almost thought he was done. It was foolish to think that, you could always be made stronger. He looked even more worn up close, as if he hadn’t been sleeping.

“The day is almost here, Sans,” he stated.

You listened quietly as he began spreading tools around on the operating table. He didn't care, he rambled on anyways.

“The attack is upon us. We are going to storm the cities first. There will be no breaks in between, we will march through each area one by one until we’ve proven our strength. It has already convinced many to fall in line. Soon, we will have unison once again.”

He went silent, and you quickly nodded. This seemed to satisfy him, as he picked up a marker and began writing on you. He hasn’t even bothered to let you change first, which was odd. Maybe he really was tired? He rolled up your sleeve, marking a line at your wrist. Growing frustrated with your jacket, he simply ripped it at the shoulder and marked a line there. The sleeve was still attached, but you did feel a little disappointed at this gesture.

Foolish.

“The fools are getting rowdy. After all these years, somebody else tries to bring ‘order’ and suddenly everyone’s friends,” he spat angrily. “We are moving onto the last stages of the plan. We are so close, victory is inevitable.”

Reaching over, he began to draw a dotted line below your left eyesocket, down your cheekbone and to your chin. You didn’t want to know what he was planning there.

“Your last stages will be done tonight. I expect you to cooperate, yes?”

You nodded.

“Good. Now,” he clapped, the lab door opening at the sound.

Two bulky monsters came in, each carrying the arm of a small reptilian monster. The reptile was thrown to the floor, and the guards left you three alone.

“I want you to kill her.”

You froze. You recognized the yellow dinosaur as Gaster’ assistant. She had joined in fear of losing her life, and had wished to use the lab tools Gaster had at hand. Even if it meant doing less than forgivable things.

“What?” You finally stuttered, voice dry. That was a mistake.

“Did you not hear me? I said, kill her.”

“But sir, you already know I can kill. The missions, my LV”-

“Do not protest!” Gaster exclaimed, grabbing your neck. 

You could hear small cracks as he held you, the lack of oxygen messing with your head. Your vision blurred more than you’d like, and you winced. Why did you resist? You had no problem killing monsters. Why did it feel so wrong, though? Seeing Gaster there, the demand to kill coming straight from him, it kindled some form of defiance inside of you. That you didn’t want to. Seeing just how wrong it was. Stop it. You’re too deep to start feeling bad now. 

That defiance was easily fading as he choked you. There was a loud whirring, followed by a roar. A bright light flashed, and Gaster dropped you back to the table roughly, you rubbed your throat and looked over, seeing the trembling dinosaur had been reduced to ash. You didn't even know her name. It didn't matter. You had summoned a blaster and killed her anyway.

“Good. The resistance was unappreciated, but you passed the test nonetheless. Even if you needed a little... motivation.”

That was it? A test? You had killed hundreds on the field. Whenever you did Gaster claimed they had to die. That they were evil, or resistant to ‘the cause’. You knew it was wrong. He didn’t have to lie to you, you had decided. You knew he didn't actually care for the people that died by your hand, and he didn’t have to make excuses for their deaths to convince you to kill them. You both knew he didn't really care why they died. That he wanted power. But seeing him finally drop the act of caring about them, the excuses, to make you kill just for fun? It broke something inside of you. And here you thought you couldn't get any more broken. He pulled out a familiar bone saw, holding a hand out for your arm. You silently gave it to him, laying down on the procedure table.

“You do not need this anymore. We will use it to make you stronger.”

He placed the saw on your arm, lining up with the mark he made on your shoulder, but paused.

“Maybe not,” he clicked his tongue, looking to the markings he made on your skull. “I’d rather start with that, actually.”

Placing the saw down, he walked around you and grabbed a needle. The foreboding feeling from earlier that day was still there, reminding you of its presence. It seemed to be glowing with some black fluid. He carefully swirled the large injector, watching the viscous liquid slowly roll in reaction to it. Turning to you, he gently placed a surgical knife to the bottom your left eyesocket, syringe in his other hand.

“Don’t die, okay?” He hummed, smiling. “I would prefer you to, ‘hang on’, or so to speak. It would be unfortunate for your weak determination to fall into the entices of death, yes?”

You didn't quite understand. Was he saying this would almost kill you? Before you could think further, the surgical knife by your eye ripped downwards, rearing at your skull. You screamed, the marrow and dust leaking haphazardly across the table as more floating hands held you down.

“Come come, Sans, hold still,” Gaster growled.

Lifting the syringe, he jabbed it into the eyesocket. You cried out again, feeling the dark magic of the injection leaking into you. You screamed and writhed, before it all went dark. Something was calling. You wanted to answer. It was cold, enticing, offering peace. Freedom. Death. Oh stars, you could finally die. You reached a hand in the empty darkness, waiting. Could you possibly accept? Just... give up?

“Sans, don’t you dare!” You heard a familiar voice hiss. You couldn’t remember who’s, though. You didn’t like it. “Dang it, Sans! Don’t die! I’m almost done!” The voice snapped.

You didn't want to go back. Didn't like the voice. It was a mean voice. Maybe you could just… take a break. 

.

.

“…Sans!” A new voice cried, young and small.

You startled at the startlingly different voice, turning around to spot what caused it. Far away, in the dark, was a familiar skeleton.

 Papyrus, your mind provided.

“Sans!!! Don’t go!” The skeleton wailed.

Yes.

That’s right.

You couldn’t go yet.

You had a brother to protect.

You were drawn from the darkness as quickly as you fell in. It felt as if you were surfacing from deep underwater, and the pain returned. Gaster was still injecting, holding you down. You couldn’t die. You couldn’t die. 

You couldn’t-

Something snapped.

You didn't want to die.

You weren't ready yet.

But your body said no. It Couldn't handle the attack of Gaster’s experiment, but the scientist refused to stop. He couldn't give up now.

“No, no! We’re so close! You're almost there! You’ll be strong!” He cried out angrily, hands gripping you tighter.

“You're supposed to be strong enough to take it! Stop it!”

It was where your mind caught glimpse of the dust floating off of you. Huh. You were dying still. You had refused death itself when it offered, yet your frail body couldn't survive the pain. How pointless. In a way, it was nice. Even if it were a painful death, you could finally pass on. The only regret you’d have to your passing would be Papyrus. You just hoped he would be okay without you. With a yell, Gaster angrily threw the syringe to the side. It didn't take a genius to see it hadn’t been emptied, but it seemed Gaster finally realized his trusty weapon was going to disappear if he finished.

“Sans!” He snapped angrily.

You weakly met his gaze. It was furious. You smiled. A small, lopsided smile. You were kind of glad you got to tick him off, even if it was through death. You supposed you had two regrets now. One of which being the fact the last thing you’d see would be his face.

“You really are useless,” he growled, watching your dust rise.

Through all the chaos, he had finally gone still, silent fury palpable as it flared off of him. There was nothing he could do now.

“I couldn't even make you stronger. You still… you still soundly take the stupid thing. It failed, Sans.” He clenched his teeth. “And you will die knowing you're still a failure. You couldn’t even last past the procedure. You’re the same as you were before. Same magic, same soul, same idiocy. You may have all those fancy magic tricks now, but you are weak. I made you strong. Me. But it still wasn’t strong enough to fix you.”

You still lay there, smiling. You were the same as before. You were useless, yes. A useless monster with more power than they knew what to do with. You knew that. But even Gaster couldn’t fix you. You were glad, in a way, that he had failed. You seemed to ruin everyone’s life, but you were glad that one of them had been Gaster’s. He couldn’t win without you. Seeing him like this, so frustrated, you finally understood that. Gaster needed you. With a yell, Gaster ripped the scalpel from the table, stabbing you mercilessly. 

All his anger, all his frustrations, he released into you. It hurt, oh stars, it hurt. But it was beginning to numb. Gaster’s sheer anger upon losing his life’s work was evident, but you swore you caught a glimpse of fear. An undertone you hadn’t truly considered. He’d be dead without you. He will be dead. Without his guard dog, he had no power. This was how you won.

’Sorry, Papyrus.’

Your mind drifted further and further the pain, now able to catch onto something else entirely. 

That feeling, the one from earlier that day. The foreboding feeling, it was increasing. It was growing, welling up inside you out of nowhere. It continued until it felt as if raw fear was being siphoned straight into you, filling you up like a balloon about to burst. It almost felt like the event it all had been building up to was here, the sheer force of it blocking all other thoughts. You felt yourself being moved, torn away from Gaster and the table. You were yanked, pulled, ripped-

And then you were gone. 

“Sans?”

.....

“Sans, you bastard!”

Chapter Text

-Art of the day!!!-

Dear, Nox and Dis: Please don’t kill Gaster, I need an antagonist. And also, no, it isn’t wise to challenge a monster with literally a thousand hands to a fist-fight. Still love you guys, stay awesome. -Sincerely, W1ngs.

And now, back to your regularly scheduled angst.

———————

You heard wailing, muffled and distant. You felt faint hands clawing at you, gripping onto your jacket. You felt them being torn away, before you heard more voices. Heard the ache in your soul. Your eyes began to see again, and you barely saw blurred green light flashing through the darkness. Your sense of touch came with it, along with the pain. Whenever you looked to the light, the pain eased, but everything else hurt. You shivered, curling further into yourself. You saw the green magic stutter, but only for a brief moment before it continued. That moment was enough, you had felt the pain full-force again, like a shock to your system, waking you up. Your senses began flooding back, clouding your mind amidst the confusion and shock with all of the information at once. There was light too bright for your eyes, voices too loud for your skull, and the pain hurt even more. You could practically feel yourself disintegrating, but maybe that was just the dust flaking off of you.

Oh. 

You supposed you were disintegrating.

“Sans!!!” The voice wailed, and your skull painfully snapped up.

You recognized that soul. The pupils you hadn’t realized you had lost flickered back, taking him in. He was being held back by two pairs of hands, face contorted in distress. You almost didn’t believe your eyes.

Why was it hard to believe, again? Oh, yes. You were dying, right? Did Papyrus die, too? You didn’t want Papyrus to be dead.

Papyrus finally tore himself away from the blurry hands, dashing over to you and desperately kneeling. You were laying on the floor, for some reason? Papyrus clutched your cheekbones as you often did his, tears in his sockets. His mouth moved, and you almost didn’t catch the valuable words.

“...ans! Sans!” He cried. “Why-What happened to you!?”

He was in loud tears now, eyes clenched shut as he leaned desperately close to you. 

‘That doesn’t look right. Papyrus shouldn’t cry,’ you absently thought.

Out of habit, you slowly lifted an arm to try and wipe a wayward tear off his cheek. ‘Those don’t belong there’, you would always say. It had always cheered him up enough, tears didn’t look good on him anyways. Weakly, you brushed the drop of it away, causing him to gingerly open his eyes and look at you again. They were filled with fear, something you hated seeing in him. You smiled at him, before feeling your arm start to go limp. The tears you wiped away were easily replaced with more. You were glad you got to see Papyrus again. You hoped he hadn’t died. Maybe this was just one last goodbye? A gift from the universe, somehow? Your vision darkened, and you didn't feel your head fall back to the floor.

————————

Papyrus had been feeling antsy all day. And more than usual. It felt as if... something bad was going to happen. That had been his main concern as he paced a familiar white room, the one he would usually enter to meet with his brother. Sans wasn't visiting today, he wasn't due for a few days, but the room had been claimed as Papyrus’ “thinking room” by the small skeleton. Sans thought it was cute, but he always said it was serious business. He didn't have much else to do, anyways. That odd feeling had been the only thing bothering him, for the most part.

That was, until around noon, he felt something... else. It was almost like a cold strike to his soul, a stabbing jab of fridgidness. 

Papyrus abruptly crumpled to the ground, his breathing heavy as he felt an echo of something, like he was losing something important.

What was that? 

It had almost felt like-

-Sans.

Papyrus felt it again, sharper this time. Something in the back of his mind told him he had felt this before, but he couldn't remember where for the life of him he could’ve felt such pain. Papyrus can’t feel Sans’ soul. Not normally, at least. As his brother, Papyrus could tell when Sans was sad, but that had nothing to do with magic. He could just look at his brother, his posture, his voice, and know. But here? It felt as if they had been tied together all along, and the invisible strings were being cut one by one. Only being noticed by Papyrus after feeling them torn apart, and with their lack of existence. Feeling the darkness consume him, Papyrus’ vision dimmed, blurring from the room he was in to a shadowy void. Papyrus desperately reached, trying to cling to the thin threads as they fell through his metaphorical phalanges. Sans felt so lost. So scared. So many emotions ravaged at Papyrus all at once, all getting confused and mixing together in a flurry. But, what scared Papyrus amongst this wave of emotion he felt, was the sudden wave of acceptance. The abrupt stop of the emotions, the calm in the storm. Papyrus cried out, feeling his mind being dragged into the darkness as he yelled. He could practically see his brother, crumbling to dust in front of him.

“Sans!!!” He cried out.

If only he could actually talk to him. It felt like a Nightmare, a Nightmare even more nightmarish because it all felt so real. Sans had looked up, barely, but it was acknowledgement nonetheless. 

“Sans!!! Don't go!” 

He called again, watching his brother's horribly dusty body in the distance.

In an instant, Sans disappeared, and it felt as if the mental connection had suddenly cut. Papyrus felt his mind snap back to the present, the darkness gone as he was kneeling and shaking back on the cold floor of his thinking room. The reality didn't last. The foreboding feeling swept over him again, pulling, twisting, and yanking him back. He wanted to fight. He couldn't leave Sans. He couldn’t even reasonably know if Sans was in danger, but every cell in his body screamed that Papyrus somehow knew the truth.

Sans was dying.

And in the names of all things holy, he would take care of his brother.

-END OF JOURNAL-

Chapter Text

“Oh sweet Asgore, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO THIS TIME!?” Red cried, hand clutching the back of his skull.

“I DUNNO! IT JUST KIND OF HAPPENED AGAIN!?” Sans exclaimed, gesturing wildly to the smoking machine laying before them.

“So… Sans, did you ever fix the exhaust and braking system?” Mutt drawled, leaning on a nearby table with far-too-much calm to be a version of Sans. 

The same Sans, who was most definitely freaking out right now.

“The fucking what?” Red snapped, eyes shooting to Sans’.

‘Why the fuck would it even have a braking system???’ He seemed to project, guessing by his exasperated expression. If the others didn’t know he was a car-mechanic they’d think he was constipated or something.

“Okay, so we may have added a few car parts. We didn’t have anything else. But we wouldn’t have had to, if you and your brother didn’t smash half of it to oblivion!”

“Well I’m sorry, but being dragged into an alternate reality is a little bit of a shock! And it hurts! Have I mentioned it fucking hurts???”

“Okay, okay! I get it!”

“And what did Mutt say about you not fixing something?”

“It’s fine!”

“The smoking box, flooding our basement with toxic fumes, does not scream ‘fine’!” Red snapped.

The machine, still hissing and steaming dangerously, did not help Sans’ case. Nor did the loud clattering noise as a metal sheet detached.

“Look, we were tryin’ to plug it in and make sure we didn’t trap any dangerous stuff in there, I just didn’t count on it activating. We didn’t do anything, it was just bad timing!”

“I still don’t like the fact that you added a fucking car engine on the back of that shit, because yes, I see that.”

Sans’ eye lights flicked to the engine behind him, before quickly stepping in front of view as if it would solve the problem.

“Please tell me you didn’t take that from my garage, you know I hate it when you do that,” Red groaned, rubbing his temples as if feeling an incoming headache. 

He only really got snippy when it came to car stuff, or people messing with his shit, and the long silence that followed was Red’s answer.

“To be fair, I told him not to,” Mutt offered.

“You fucking did not!” Sans exclaimed, head whipping to Stretch in shock.

“Oh, so now we’re admitting things,” Red drawled, grumbling pettily.

“Drop it with the stupid engine already, Red! We have more important things to deal with!”

“What, like the smoking engine you stuck onto the cooling system? I saw that amalgamation, too! You have no idea what you’re doing and you both know cars are my shit.”

“Uh guys?” Stretch questioned eyeing the machine warily as its hissing grew higher-pitched.

“Okay! Fine, fine! We should’ve asked you for help!” Sans exclaimed, dropping his hand to his sides in dramatic defeat.

“IS THAT MY FUCKING DASHBOARD BOBBLE?” Red realized, gesturing to an odd object smothered in duct-tape.

“Guys?” Mutt tried again.

“Well maybe if you actually came in to help us, you wouldn’t have to worry about these kinds of things!”

“No no no, we’re backtracking here. You stole my fucking bikini-girl bobble head, for a make-shift spark plug!? It wouldn’t have even worked!!!”

“Mutt used the last one like a frisbee! The windows’ still broken!”

“We have like eight of them! And don’t get me started on that whole, ‘not wanting to steal’ schtick, because we both know you apparently don’t give two shits about takin’ my stuff.”

“Uh, guys!?” Mutt called, voice filled with more alarm this time.

“What!?” They snapped, both turning to glare at the skeleton.

The room froze as the violent shaking of the machine again grew louder, moving with more intensity. As if to emphasize its point, a newer addition to the cacophony of high-pitched squealing began to dangerously grow in pitch.

“Oh, shi”-

“DUCK!”

Sans had just barely pushed Red to the floor, when the machine exploded. Shrapnel flew everywhere, shaking the floor as the reverberating sound cleared through the basement.

Papyrus opened his eyes blearily. What was he doing again? It was something important…

“Shit, get Papyrus down here!” A voice cried, followed by a hurried storm of footsteps. 

Chaos ensued around the small Papyrus. Screaming and shouting surrounded them as smoke filled the confined air. Papyrus paid no mind to it, a numb ringing filling his skull as he knelt. Arms slack, he stared at the mound before him. Person?

‘Was this what shock felt like?’ He absently wondered, slowly feeling the cold seeping into his soul.

With blurring vision, he fought against whatever was restraining him, desperately approaching the shape his soul was screaming at him to help. Stumbling forwards, he shakily raised a hand towards the slumped figure before him.

“...Sans?” He queried, voice quivering.

He gingerly pat where Sans’ shoulder would have been, feeling the soft sink of the pressure as dust flew up.

Dust.

Dust.

The body was dusting. Sans was dusting.

Something must have snapped in his confined mind, as he abruptly dove for his brother. Struggling to drag the fallen body into his lap, he began patting Sans’ face desperately. He could feel how soft some of his bones were, likely due to their rapid fading.

“Sans!” He screamed, vision wet and distorted as he cried. “Sans, please! Wake up!”

Sans’ eyelids slowly rose, eyelights trying and failing to focus clearly.

“Sans, Sans!” He cried. “Wh-Why-What happened to you!?”

Sans weakly raised a hand, an attempt to wipe Papyrus’ tears away. The arm fell limp, and unfamiliar red gloves caught Sans’ head before it hit the floor, just out of Papyrus’ vision. Sans’ sockets closed, unconscious yet again, and Papyrus’ soul swelled in fear.

He felt firm hands grip his humeri, dragging him away from the dying monster. Sans’ prone body slumped limply to the floor, sliding off his lap. Papyrus paid no mind to who grabbed him, vision blurred. With tunnel vision, his sockets focused on only his brother. He kicked and screamed, writhing in the clamps as more hands came to pull him away.

He wouldn't leave him! Not like this!

“Kid, we need ya’ ta’ back up,” An unknown voice coerced.

“N-No!” Papyrus cried, lurching forwards again.

“Paps’ll take care of it, you gotta let him”, another gruff voice spoke behind him.

The two monsters restraining Papyrus continued urging him, guiding him further away as he shook.

“I-I can't leave him,” he sobbed, shaking. “I-I might lose him for real this time.”

“Shhh, c’mere, we’ll find a way,” the gruff voice continued, turning Papyrus away from the body.

Clawed phalanges cupped his jaw, forcing Papyrus to look at the monster before him. Papyrus’ eyes locked with unfamiliar eyelights, red and fierce.

“He’s gonna be okay,” the monster asserted, sharp teeth moving as he spoke.

The tone in his voice urged Papyrus to believe it as fact. The truth in his voice filled Papyrus’ head instead of the fear, shooing away the doubts.

He’s gonna be okay.

He will be okay.

Papyrus would make sure of it.

Shakily, Papyrus reached up and grabbed one of the foreign wrists resting on his face. The gesture suddenly turned desperate, as Papyrus the. propelled himself forward and wrapped his arms around the strange monster. His bones rattled wildly as he clung to the unknown skeleton, sobbing. Slowly, the red-eyed monster raised a hand.

He hovered over Papyrus’ spine for a moment, before gingerly rubbing it back and forth. Papyrus’ violent rattling slowed a bit, but it was clear he wasn't aware enough of his surroundings just yet. The smell of mustard filled his nostril hole, but he ignored it in favor of sobbing. There was something familiar enough about this embrace, enough he didn't care anymore who saw him cry. The other mysterious pair of hands had long since released their grip, their owner watching the two in silence.

Sans couldn't die.

He couldn't, because somebody really cared about him.

Papyrus still needed him.

Chapter Text

Blearily, you opened your eyes. You were met with a white ceiling, finding yourself laying flat on your back. You must’ve been back at the lab, then.

Had you ever left? With a grunt, you sat up, slinging your legs over what you found to be a bed. It took more effort that you would like to admit, and you could feel the pained tension throughout your skeleton. 

Eyeing your surroundings, you found yourself in a small room. It was empty, save for a closet set by the wall and a dresser across from the bed. Standing, you made your way to another door on the far wall of the room.

Were you kidnapped? A hostage? That would have been pretty stupid on the kidnapper’s part. Turning the knob, you heard the familiar click of it opening. 

So it was unlocked? Not a hostage, then. No idiot would leave the door unlocked, not that locked doors ever stopped you in the past. You slowly pushed it open, peeking into the hall.

What was Gaster planning? You wracked your brain for a moment, trying to recall how you got here. It must have been another test, then. Had you made him angry? 

You picked up the sound of voices carrying down the corridor, and made your way towards them. Passing several closed doors, you found yourself cautiously trekking down a staircase.

You spied a living room, somehow in perfect condition, as if untouched by war. It was relatively open, and there was a small wall separating it from what must have been a kitchen.

Whoever had all of this was rich, and likely powerful, too. But who on Earth had more power than Gaster?

Silently, you crept up to the open archway, peeking around and into the kitchen.

It was unfavorable, the floor space didn't have many places to hide. Luckily for you, stealth wasn't your only ally.

You were wary of how far your head showed, cursing the lack of foliage, and in turn, the doorframe that gave horrible cover. You almost toppled over once you saw That the voices you heard were skeletons.

“He might not even make it!” A firm voice snapped, one of the monsters gathered in this impromptu meeting space.

The monster was tall, bearing a bright red scarf. A large scar ran across their right eye, their sharp maw twisted into a scowl. So clearly, a frown was their go-to expression.

You admired his armor, black and sharp, along with his red combat boots. If they didn't have heels, they would have been great for rough terrain.

“Edge, c’mon, don’t be like that,” a softer voice chastised.

“Silence, Mutt. I am not talking to you,” Edge snapped.

‘Mutt’, or so you assumed, dressed rather odd. It didn’t help that he was uncomfortably tall. A large, purple hoodie left him blatantly vulnerable to attack, and an absurdly fluffy hood blocked almost all vision in his peripherals. Wait a minute. was he smoking…. You squinted your eyes. 

‘a dog treat??’

“We checked ‘em and everythin’, Edge. We can't know for sure”-

“Exactly! We can’t know! He might fall down as we speak!” Edge interrupted.

Mutt snapped his jaw shut with an audible click.

“Boss, you gotta be quiet, the kid might hear ‘ya”-

“I do not care if that child hears me, Red! You think the best way to go about this is to blatantly lie to him?”

“I-I had to tell ‘em somethin’!” 

The small defending skeleton raised his hands in a placating gesture, sweating beads of red nervously. You were subtly relieved to see not everyone here was tall, and by how he called the sharp one ‘boss’, you supposed this was a business or gang of some sort.

You didn’t understand the appeal of his gold tooth, nor where he got it, but appreciated the black jacket. At least most skeletons seemed to have taste.

“Do not give him hope, Red,” Edge scowled. “He might as well be dead already. It will only hurt the boy more.”

“Hey,” Mutt growled, placing a hand on Edge’s shoulder. “Don’t assume it’s a lost cause so soon. We don’t know what’ll happen. Giving someone hope isn't lying, and stars does that kid need some hope right about now.”

Edge slapped the hand off his shoulder, taking a step towards the short one.

“What I can’t understand is why you’d do it, Red.”

Red took a step back, but Edge only took another in advance. “He came back to you, again and again, and every time you told him to keep going. You wouldn't let him give up. That isn’t normal. You lied to him. I just want to know why?” He tilted his head.

“Boss, I just”-

“Why?”

“I didn't tell him anything wrong, I just”-

“Why?” He was getting impatient now.

“He needed to”-

“Why!?” Edge insisted. “Just tell me why!!!”

“Because he reminded me of you!!!” Red snapped.

The room filled with silence, Red breathing heavily.

“What?” Edge stated, voice hushed.

“He reminded me… of you. When we were kids, I mean.”

Edge clenched his fists, jaw tightening,

“I am not a child!” Edge snapped.

“Boss, you know I didn't mean it like that,” Red defended, reaching for Edge.

Edge just turned on-heel to walk away, ignoring Red completely. Mutt caught onto his scarf, halting his departure. Edge shot a glare over his shoulder, but Mutt only watched him with searching eyes.

“C’mon, I know we’re tense right now, but we both know your bro didn’t mean it like that,” he agreed, pleading eyes searching Edge’ warily.

Did you hear that right? Were they brothers? The room had gone silent, and you strained your temporal bone to hear. Taking a small step forwards, you felt a grainy substance in your knee-bones crunch. Three heads snapped in your direction, just as you had ducked out of the doorway.

Shit.

“Papyrus? Kid?” Red questioned, treading softly towards the doorway.

Shit shit shit shit shit-

Oh.

They knew your brother?

“If it’s that incessant child, he should not be spying on us,” Edge huffed.

“I don't think it’s the kid,” Mutt pointed out, the three of them slowly approaching the hall. “He’d prolly know better. And be louder…”

Shit, shit, shit- why was there dust in your joints!? 

If you ran fast enough, you might be able to make it down the hall and around a corner to hide. Though, you’d just be a sitting duck all over again. You didn't know this house, and they could get the jump on you if you weren’t careful. 

It seemed they were open to attack now, however. All three were in your sight, one of which you had already noted was highly vulnerable to attack.

How they knew Papyrus, you didn’t know. But you didn’t like it. What kind of test was this? Gaster wouldn’t actually bring your brother into this, would he? No, he promised.

As flaky as his promises are, that deal was his only leash on you. It was just bait for the test, he wasn’t actually here. It was still a bit of a dick move using your brother’s name for an attempt to fuel you, but you still wouldn’t fail. 

Maybe it was a kidnapping for papyrus? You hadn’t been trained in rescue missions. There was no need. But you supposed that’s reason enough to learn. Gaster’s taught you harder things for less.

Mind made up, you nodded to yourself. Ignoring the odd aches and grainy feeling in your bones, you re-labeled these opponents as enemies. Gaster wouldn’t appreciate you fleeing and leaving the job half-finished.

“Hey, kid, is that you?” Red called out.

The three of them were hovering right by the hall’s archway, as if sensing something was off. Well, if they wouldn’t cross the threshold, you would for them.

You felt a sharp bone materialize in your hand, and clutched it tightly. With a leap, you launched yourself into the doorway. Kicking off of its wall, you flipped over the three and into the kitchen, landing with ease. Now that their advantage was lost, they were free game.

“Holy shit!” Red blurted, whipping his head around to you.

He wasn’t fast enough, as the large point of your bone was already inches from his face. A gloved hand shot out, catching it mere inches from stabbing the space between Red’s sockets. The grip clenched, snapping the spear in half as your eyes flicked to Edge. 

He was scowling, eyes hyper-focused on you. Standing straight up, you realized just how tall he was to you.

You didn’t let it intimidate you, glaring back in response. You’ve sparred with Gaster a multitude of times, and he was much taller than the average monster. Edge huffed, summoning a bright red bone in his other hand. 

Mutt stood behind the two, stance tense and ready for a fight. All three pairs of eyes glowed a little brighter, likely due to the adrenaline of the encounter, fingers buzzing with untouched magic.

Breaking the stalemate, Edge leaned back as you darted backwards, skidding to a stop and facing your new opponent. He threw his bone like a javelin, the arc beautiful as it soared across the kitchen.

Dashing to the side, you easily dodged the attack as it embedded itself into the floor. Red dove forwards, initiating the true fight. Bones flew everywhere, and you were surprised to find the Mutt’s attacks were all blunted. 

Edge took no care in doing so, sharp blades of cartilage barreling onto you with fury. A pair of your extra hands—Gaster’s hands—came up behind you, sandwiching the offending spear before despawning.

Raising an arm up, you dropped your defensive stance in favor of summoning your blaster. More of your hands deflected attacks towards your open position, and you felt the familiar hum of two more large blasters form above you, both your own.

Sharp maws detached from their skulls, and powerful whirring overtook the room. You could see the light fill the space above you as it danced across the walls, the three skeletons frozen in shock. You smiled.

“I. win.”

…

“Sans!”

You almost fired a blaster out of shock, head whipping to your right.

“Papyrus?” You queried, spotting the small skeleton fearfully eyeing your weapons

“Sans, what are you doing?” He asked, voice trembling slightly.

De-summoning two of them, you left a single blaster aimed at the targets’ skulls 

Approaching your brother, you kneeled, confusion evident in your face.

“What are you doing here… why aren’t you in… just- how…?” Your words couldn't seem to fit together right, broken puzzle pieces as you tried to understand.

He wasn't in containment. You weren't supposed to see him unless during one of your scheduled meetings. Papyrus wasn’t supposed to be seeing your training. He wasn’t supposed to be in danger. Papyrus wasn't supposed to be here. 

Your mind whispered back, the realization you never wanted to witness happening despite your deepest fears. That bastard.

Gaster dragged him into this to push you harder.

Gaster didn’t care about what happened to him and his ‘perceived innocence’.

Gaster didn't care if Papyrus got hurt.

Seething, you silently stood up, back facing away from the enemies confidently as you hovered by your brother. Eyes closed, you clenched and unclenched your fists. Slowly, you turned, your gaze drowning in the all-new hatred burrowing into your opponents.

Snapping out of their daze, Red took a small step back. The only one who didn't seem unsettled by your empty sockets was Edge, but you felt he was rather skilled at hiding it.

“You,” you growled, grin straining.

You took another step forward, your teeth creaking as they clenched together.

“N-Now listen here, we don’t want any trouble,” Red stated gingerly raising his hands up placatingly.

That was a mistake. You clenched your teeth harder.

You must have been doing your job right if you got a guy like him to avoid conflict, considering how he was fighting earlier. Well, they lost that chance when they dragged your brother into this. 

‘It isn't their fault’, your brain reminded you, despite your rising rage. ‘They work for Gaster, they don’t choose what they do. There’s hundreds just like them that could've easily taken their place.’

Your mind was being rational.

But your soul didn't care for ‘rational’.

Fingers tingling, they twitched before you raised your arm again. Your mind was dark, the commands engraved into your skull repeating themselves again.

‘Corner. Trap. Eliminate.’

A hand caught your sleeve, the right one. Papyrus’ small phalanges tugged where it had been tied off, desperately seeking your attention. The gesture was small, you had tied off that sleeve ages ago. 

due to your lack of an arm, you thought bitterly. 

You saw him nonetheless. The dark haze reciting Gaster’ commands faded, though your arm was still raised for an attack.

“Sans, don’t,” Papyrus pleaded. “Please, you’re scaring me! They're good!”

You looked back to the three monsters, all of which were unusually silent during your whole exchange. What was Gaster playing at? Papyrus had no real frame of reference as to whether or not they were good.

He was witty, but it wasn't hard to believe it wouldn't take much to gain Papyrus’ endless trust. If this were real, trusting them could have very well be a death sentence. Or in this case, an instant fail.

You hadn't even stopped to consider if you believed this truly was a test or not. Trusting your gut, you pushed the idea to the side. Why did you want to believe Papyrus? It couldn’t have been hope. You were lying to yourself, you realized, belatedly.

You had lost hope long ago. You wanted it to be a test, so you wouldn't have to face the consequences of having let yourself get kidnapped. Having somehow let your guard down to end up here.

So that the deaths of these monsters could be blamed on Gaster again, and cover the blood and dust already stained on your hands. ‘Because it wasn’t your fault, right?’ Maybe you could lie to yourself, just this once. With what you wanted to believe.

“Sans, I need you to trust me. We aren't home anymore, you need to listen to us!” Papyrus pleaded, tugging your tied-sleeve a little lower in assertion.

Was this a test? A trap? Could you even risk falling into one of Gaster’s tricks for this?

Taking another look at Papyrus’ expression, you knew your answer. Yes. Yes you would. You would fail a million tests for that stupid face because stars-damnit, he’s the reason you’re still here.

These monsters were lucky your brother was here.

…You would trust Papyrus on this. His contorted face was too much to bear. And if all else failed, you could handle a beating from Gaster.

As for your targets, you could think of 56 different ways to impale their souls in this situation. You’d be fine. Lowering your arm, the Blaster faded. A hint of relief flooded Papyrus, a much better expression, and he quickly clung to your side.

“So,” Red drawled uncomfortably, eyes avoiding contact.

He tugged at a turtleneck nervously.

“We can explain,” he finished lamely.

His boss scoffed.

“You are to listen and listen well,” Edge began, walking towards you in long strides. 

A sharp bone was flicked from you, halting his advances and pointing centimeters from his vertebrae. He looked to the point, before eyes flicked back up to you with a disapproving scowl.

“Deplorable,” he growled.

“I stopped attacking,” you growled. “I did not agree to sit and do nothing.”

With a huff, Edge backed up with the others again.

“I get it’s your job. Normally, I wouldn’t care what you did, but allowing yourself to drag a child into this is just disgraceful. Do you truly have no shame left anymore?” You snapped, eyes narrowed.

“Listen, I don't know what you're thinking,” Mutt began, but you cut him off

“I am going to walk out that door,” you announced, pointing to a door beside the kitchen.

...You had deduced it was the exit, otherwise you’d have jumped out a window.

“-With my brother,” you finished. “I will spare you and face the consequences in your stead, but know this is not my mercy. If you allow yourselves to stoop low enough to drag my brother into this again,” You smiled, a menacing, dangerous thing. “Gaster won’t be the only one you have to worry about.”

“I think that’s enough,” a boisterous voice announced, stepping into the kitchen behind the brothers.

More conflict? You whipped your head around.

This was becoming too much unnecessary confrontation, it was a risk.

You eyed a window above the sink behind you, plan forming in your head.

“Milord, I don't think you should do that,” Mutt cautioned as another short skeleton came into view. You turned to try and keep eyes on the enemies now behind you.

Wearing armor much like Edge’s, the skeleton brandished a bright purple bandana and sharp fangs. His boots clicked eloquently against the tile as he weaved through the group.

Something screamed at you in the back of your mind that you should know him, but you shook it off. Now was not the time for some vague memories to make themselves known.

“Mutt, I did not ask of you to speak,” the supposed ‘Milord’ scolded.

With a flick of his wrist, a purple bone was summoned into his palm. He pointed it tip first at you, like a baton.

“I will not tolerate you destroying our kitchen,” he snapped, beginning to boss you. “You will come with us, and we will explain why you are here. You will not cause trouble, and you will not endanger the group. Is this clear?”

He was trying to give you orders. 

As if he had any right to do that. 

As if he were strong enough to do that.

He seemed stronger than the average monster, you had to admit. You could feel the magic radiating off him, ready to take action at any moment. Luckily for you, you were much stronger than the average monster.

And only Gaster gave you orders.

You grabbed Papyrus, the boy giving an indignant yelp as you scooped him into your arm.

“Sans, what are you doing!?” He exclaimed, gripping your uniform’s sleeve tightly.

You leapt to the counter, clutching him firmly. Something seemed to click in your head, and you paused, facing away from your opponents dangerously.

You had Papyrus.

You had Papyrus.

You had your brother. 

And you were currently the strongest monster on the surface.

Gaster didn’t give you orders.

…

Gaster just fucked up.

You smiled, an almost manic expression taking your face as your gaze began to water, the familiar Ichor pooling at the edges of a socket.

‘Tears are for the weak’, the voices hissed, but you ignored them for once. Because Gaster had given you the one thing that kept you down.

The four behind you didn’t seem to know what to do when you began maniacally laughing and sobbing at the same time.

“You don’t have jack shit on me anymore,” you laughed, slowly standing to your full height on the counter.

Seeming to sense he had made some sort of mistake, (about time,) Milord tried to reason with you.

“Now, now, we don’t have to do anything rash,” he stated warily.

You finally faced the enemies. The enemies that couldn’t control you. You smiled, turned, and abruptly crashed through the window above the sink.

“Shit!” Red exclaimed, the four monsters quickly running over to the window.

Glass shards were everywhere, and they eyed the grass below for any corpses.

“We're an entire fucking floor up!” Mutt hissed.

Milord was already running out the door, descending the stairs to the entryway. He skipped steps completely, bolting to the exit. Edge hopped to the counter, gloves clutching the edges of the shattered frames as if contemplating the jump.

“B-Boss!” Red floundered, shocked at the gesture.

“No idiot Sans could land a fall like that unscathed!” He exclaimed, still in the window frame. “Even the raspberry took the stairs, we need to get him while he’s down!” 

Edge leapt out the window in pursuit, but instead of dropping straight down like you did, he clutched a nearby gutter to slow his descent. Mutt and Red exchanged looks, before teleporting to the bottom floor. They almost bumped into Milord as he flew down the bottom of the staircase, bolting out the door before even they could.

They recovered quickly, following in suit. There was a thump outside, but from finally Edge landing or you, they didn’t know. Milord turned the corner of their backyard, to run towards a familiar arm-less Sans currently crouched in a landing position. He was in the open. Catching up, the others stood back, hiding behind the safety of the house.

“Holy shit…” Mutt muttered, just as frozen as Red.

Shakily, they continued peeking around the corner of the house.

You had fallen out a window on the backside of the house, possibly a 14 foot drop. Yet you had landed with a knee up, completely unscathed, as if it were a few mere inches. Clearly, injury wasn’t the reason you remained still. And all while holding a trembling Papyrus, sockets wide and clinging to your jacket for dear life.

“He fucking landed it!?” Red finished, gaping.

“Do you think he can…?” Mutt whispered, gesturing to his soul.

“No, no way, we would’ve seen the blue magic,” Red denied.

Mutt shut his jaw with a click, Milord long gone and racing towards the truant. The armor-clad monster summoned a bone, prepared for you to flee again in his pursuit. Oddly enough, you weren’t moving. Even worse, you weren't looking at him. Your eyes were turned towards the sky, unwavering. It only taunted Milord’ flaring rage. 

‘How dare he!?’ Milord nearly exclaimed, jaw clenched. ‘Ignoring me as if I'm not a threat!’

Edge had just landed behind you, waving his hand into an arc the moment he touched down. A wall of bones shot up and blocked you in, causing you to flinch.

“Red, Mutt, now!” Edge called, glaring at the two gaping monsters.

Snapped out of their shock, the two raised a hand each. Blue magic danced across their fingertips, illuminating your soul with a similar color of light. The light continued flickering, unable to stay consistent.

“What are you doing!?” Milord snapped, turning to the two. “Freeze them already!”

“I-It’s like it’s slipping!” Red grunted, clenching an eye shut.

His other socket flared with blue magic, his arm quivering. Mutt, in a similar stance, dropped his arm completely. He breathed heavily, unable to grab your soul.

“Wait,” Edge demanded, Milord’s attention returning.

“What?” Milord snapped, before he noticed where Edge was pointing.

Following Edge’s finger, he took your state in for a second time.

You were completely frozen, but obviously not because of any blue magic. You weren’t actively dying again, clearly, yet your skull remained pointed in one spot. Following your gaze, it didn’t take long to realize you were looking at the sky.

It was a beautifully clear blue, swabbed with cloud puffs in a few distant spots. The screaming in the back of your mind had finally cleared, as if it too was watching the endless blue. You knew it from somewhere, somewhere far away. Your other life, perhaps? 

But even your soul knew when silence was necessary to truly revel in beauty. What was this? It was so bright, and clear, and fresh. Not the orange and brown shades you knew so well, nor full of the dust in the air that mocked the stature of clouds. How could you have ever thought they were comparable to the real thing?

You would have wondered what was wrong with the sky, if it weren’t for the knowledge in the back of your head telling you that this was all so right. This was how the sky should look. So instead, you pondered what had happened. What had caused your sky to turn such a pristine color? Did somebody find a way to clear the air? Were you seeing things?

“It is beautiful, yes?” Edge’s voice stated, cutting through your thoughts.

You peeked behind you, expecting his glare, but finding he wasn’t even looking at you. He was staring at the sky as well, his defenses down. There was something odd in his expression, something distant. Soft, almost? You shook it off, only now noticing the wall of bones around you.

You should have been paying better attention. You clicked your tongue, miffed at yourself for getting distracted. They even managed to make a cage in your moment of peace. How foolish of you.

Papyrus was still shaking in your arms, wide eyed. You held him closer, gathering your magic. It would burn, but you could teleport just this once.

Where were you right now? Where would you go? You didn’t want to go back to Gaster so soon, he would likely still be furious. Deciding on a random field you had seen yesterday, you prepared to teleport.

“Don’t,” Edge stated, eye contact still directed up.

For once, it didn't sound like an order.

“You can’t get anywhere. You don’t know where you are.”

“I can get back just fine,” you grunted, ignoring him.

He only let out a small ‘hm,’ in acknowledgement, gaze still locked to the sky. You paused, turning to Gaster’s ‘training dummies’. They weren't attacking, which was odd. They had likely given up, but now was a better chance to ask than any.

“What…” you searched for the words, trying to not trigger a fight. You needed to know.

“…What did you do to the sky?”

For the first time since this encounter, Edge looked down to you. You weren’t unaware of the enemies to your side, and shot them a glance before meeting Edge’s gaze. Eyeing him warily.

“You didn’t have it, did you?” He mused, more to himself than you.

You twitched. What was he getting at?

“This isn’t your home,” he stated factually, eyes drifting back to the clouds.

What was he doing? It was like he was practically mocking you, leaving himself open to attack like that. 

He wasn't even looking at you. You don’t know why that got under your metaphorical skin, that he acted like he was safe.

‘You could kill him. Rip him to shreds so easily, pick him apart piece by piece’-

You didn’t even know him, why should you care?

“What kind of crap are you pulling?” You asked, straightening slightly.

The dangerous tone in your voice wasn’t gone, but you regretted hearing it had slipped away and come out softer.

“Enough beating around the bush already,” Edge sighed, holding his elbow and pressing a pair of fingers to his temple. “You are in another universe, one which we would have explained to you, had you stopped to actually listen to the unbearable purple one.”

“Hey!” Milord exclaimed indignantly.

You went rigid.

“...what?”

You were insane. This was it. You had just completely, utterly lost your marbles. You didn’t know why you were compelled to believe them, you almost never listened to the voice in the back of your mind anymore. But it screamed familiarity at you, ‘safety’, and now you were sitting on an ugly  sofa listening to two of your previous— (training dummies?) —captors bickering.

“We had just reached a stalemate, and you burst in attacking!” Edge exclaimed, waving his gloves hands exasperatedly, frustrated with the prickly grape standing before him.

It was less of a stalemate and more of a tentative truce, really. And apparently you weren’t the only one who thought that.

“As if! You must be delusional if you saw that as ‘evenly matched’. You already riled him up before I got there, he was like some coiled up spring! What on earth did you do!? Try to stab him?”

“To be fair, he did it first,” Red piped up, lounging on a nearby loveseat.

“Nobody asked you, Red!” both skeletons snapped, glaring.

Papyrus, sitting in your lap, tensed. You clutched him just a little closer to your chest, your own personal little teddy bear. For once, he didn’t complain.

“Honestly, seeing the disaster you cause I'm tempted to just start the meeting right now, Sans or no Sans.” Edge said, exasperated.

You perked up. They were talking about you?

“No, we're waiting until Sans gets here, especially if the alternative option is listening to you,” Milord growled.

Aaand now you’re lost again.

Mutt had walked over, sitting on a separate loveseat next to Red. He had a bucket of popcorn, and was holding it between them as they slowly munched.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Edge gaped, fuming and rising to his full volume.

“It isn't much of a ‘dare’ when you remember your blatant incompetence,” Milord snipped. “More of a… general fact.”

A loud slurping noise could be heard. Mutt had somehow materialized a form of soft drink, and was sipping it obnoxiously as the tension grew.

“WHY I’LL”-

“Hey, hey, what are you two doing?” A low voice rolled in, all eyelights jumping to the fifth skeleton you’ve seen today.

He was… oh stars did he remind you of something. You hated how you didn't know what, but you almost felt like you knew him from somewhere. Adorned with pink slippers, a pair of striped shorts, and a scruffy blue hoodie, the skeleton practically oozed ‘casual’. Smile lax and lids drooped, he examined the room, taking you in last, as if you were just an afterthought. It was not at all how you’d view an enemy, you pondered.

“Honestly the least you could do in front of our guest is play nice,” he scolded lightly, facing Edge and Milord.

Both stiffened considerably.

“Guest!? He broke our window, the heath”-

-“Milord, nice words,” Sans reminded him, raising a hand for him to pause. The warning in his tone didn’t go unnoticed. Surprisingly, it worked.

Grumbling, Milord stormed to the side. He leaned against the wall with a haughty ‘humph’, crossing his arms in his frustration.

Edge growled, walking to the opposite side of the living room and standing in a similar position. Petty.

“Holy fuck, Axe!” Red yelped, surprising you considerably as you tensed for a fight.

Your head a snapped up as a third skeleton walked in.

He was tall, really tall, and was still slouched significantly. He had long, jagged teeth, and was fit with a loose hoodie and threadbare scarf.

“Butch, get your damn brother before he eats the bucket,” Red exclaimed to the tall monster, glaring behind him.

Sure enough, there was a seventh skeleton already lurking behind the two loveseats. How long had he been there? He had a gaping hole in his head, a sign not to mess with him, and he remained crouched silently. His eye was locked on the bucket, a pinprick much like a predator on the hunt.

“Hello to you too, Axe,” Mutt chuckled, swiping a piece of popcorn from his seat next to Red, and earning a glare at his casual mannerism.

“I… smell… food…” Axe mumbled, mouth watering as he eyed the popcorn hungrily.

Walking past, Butch casually picked up Axe, carrying him across the room by his armpits like one would with a cat. He dropped Axe on the opposite side of the couch from the food, striding around and plopping next to him comfortably. They were a decent distance away from you, but you could still feel the couch sink at the added weight. They were intimidating. You should remain cautious.

“Welp,” Sans clapped, garnering the room’s attention. “Introductions are in order, I think.”

“Yes! That is very important!” A boisterous voice bellowed, as yet another skeleton waltzed in.

‘Stars, kill me now,’ you could only think.

‘Oh. right. Skeleton. Been there done that.’

The stranger was tall, and extremely clean. A bright red scarf had been tied neatly around his vertebrae, and he smiled excitedly. He wore glistening white armor, and his boots shone as if he’d never seen a day of war in his life.

“Red, why don’t you start?” He beamed, pointing to said skeleton.

“Uh,” Red paused, still sweating as Axe stared hungrily from across the room. “I mean, Papyrus, he already knows me.”

Papyrus?

“Yes? It’s still only the polite thing to do!” Papyrus declared, pointing a finger in the air as he did.

“Well, you kinda already introduced me,” Red shrugged.

“I”-

Papyrus paused.

“Oh! That I did! Sorry, friend!” He turned to you, as if you had been offended by his actions. “Just pretend that never happened! Reset! Red, start over!”

Papyrus waved Red on, covering his face in his gloved hands in shame.

“Well, uh, ya’ already know me. I’m Red. You’re gonna have ta’ get used to this handsome mug,” he grinned, pointing to his face and wiggling his brow-bones.

Edge subsequently slapped his skull, shoving it forwards and into the popcorn bowl. Lifting it up, a few popcorn kernels clung to his skull, falling out of his eyesockets. 

“B-Boss, when’d you get behind me?”

“Ignore him,” Edge huffed, crossing his arms. “I am Edge, master of traps and puzzles.”

“Allegedly!” Milord corrected, causing Edge to clench his maw irritably. 

“Do not deliberately defile our household and you will have no need to fear me,” Edge finished, ignoring Milord with what looked like a great deal of effort.

“Yes, while I do ask you not destroy our home, I assure you we won’t let him bring you harm despite his blatant threats,” the ominous skeleton with the slouch explained.

“Hey, they were subtle!” Edge defended in exasperation. “They’re supposed to be ominous, you fool!”

“Really, he’s not too bad,” The skeleton smiled, showing off his crooked teeth.

“Do not ignore me!” Edge gaped, shocked. “Nobody here appreciates my efforts!”

He threw his arms up, retreating back to his spot against the wall.

“I’m Butch,” the slouched skeleton explained softly. “And this is my brother, Axe.”

He gestured to the skeleton beside him, the one with a gaping hole in his head. One of Butch’s arms was pressed against Axe’s chest, restraining him as he was obviously still fighting to reach Red and Mutt’s popcorn bowl.

Milord cleared his throat, stepping away from the wall dramatically.

“I am the malevolent… er…. me! You may call me ‘Milord’ as you please!”

“Degenerate, tell them your real name,” Edge snapped.

“That is all they need to know!” Milord snubbed, turning away.

“Milord...” the Blue-hooded one prodded slowly. “....please?”

Milord sighed.

“My full name is Blackberry. But do not call me that! It is degrading!” He added.

“C’mon, it isn’t that bad,” Mutt chuckled. “‘Least you aren’t named after a color.”

“Hey!” Red yelped.

“Worse… names. ...Like... edgelord…” Axe drawled gradually, letting out a slow, huffy laugh.

“Well, excuse you!” Edge huffed. “Edge is a very cool name, thank you very much! Oh wait, I don’t thank you, because I am obviously right! Nya-hah-hah!”

He cackled, puffing his chest proudly.

“You may even call me by my full name, the mighty ‘Edgelord death-bringer the terrible’!”

“Ain't nobody gonna call you that,” Mutt deadpanned.

“I wasn't talking to you!” Edge exclaimed, skull snapping to you expectantly.

“As you can tell, he picked his own name. You don't have to call him that,” Mutt corrected, leaning closer to you.

“Stop influencing the degenerate, Mutt!”

“Oh, yeah, You can call me Mutt,” he winked to you. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“Believe me, you won't need to,” Edge grumbled bitterly.

“Then I guess that leaves us!” The tall, clean skeleton declared. “I am the Great Papyrus!”

Paps finally looked up from your lap, examining the skeleton.

“Papyrus? That’s… my name…” he mused, confused.

“Well, yes! I am you! Kind of. Older you?”

Your brother sat there for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face as he pieced together this revelation. Surely only the thoughts of the wisest 10 year old swirled around in there.

“I’m… I’m so tall!” Little Papyrus marveled, eyes practically sparkling.

He squirmed in your grip and slid off your lap, cautiously approaching the taller. Reluctantly, you let him, shooting a dangerous look towards the blue one. It practically screamed your thoughts. 

Catching his eyelights, he must have gotten the ideas you practically projected at him.

‘If you try anything, I will find a way to skin a skeleton’.

The blue one only shrugged, smiling nonchalantly in agreement to the unspoken demand.

Either he was stupid, and didn’t understand the threat, or he was really stupid, and did.

“C...can I…?” Small Papyrus requested, fidgeting with his phalanges nervously and stealing glances to the other’s scarf.

Papyrus only beamed, abruptly bending down and scooping up the child. Your Papyrus was shocked by the gesture, but began giggling excitedly as he eagerly ran his fingers on the monster’s clean scarf.

“I-I didn't think you would just grab…” he trailed off, looking to the floor below him. “Woah… you’re really tall!”

“Nyah-heh-heh! Why thank you, tiny me!”

“Do you think I'm gonna be this tall, Sans?” He asked excitedly, craning his neck to you in anticipation.

“I… wouldn’t doubt it,” you eventually replied, shoulders relaxing in the slightest. Edge’s gaze flicked to them shortly, before focusing back on the scene at hand.

You didn't think your brother could get any happier in that moment.

“No way! Will I get gloves too? How strong is your magic? Do you know how to read all the words yet?”

He spouted off question after question, an enthusiasm you hadn’t seen emerge from the secluded boy in a while.

“W-Well!” The other blushed at the attention. He cleared his throat. “I do not know if you will get gloves, but I’m sure we can find some for you! I’d also say my magic is pretty strong, and I've only lost a bone once this week!”

Your brother watched in excitement, waiting for the final answer.

“...and yes, I can read many of the words,” The monster smiled, using your brother’s phrasing affectionately.

Your brother cheered, fawning over how cool he’s going to be. The taller only blushed profusely at the compliments, growing more and more flustered by the minute.

“I guess that leaves me,” The blue skeleton shrugged, approaching you and sticking out a hand.

“The name’s Sans. Sans the skeleton. But I guess you probably figured that out already.”

You processed the words, not shaking his hand. Sans didn’t seem offended, sticking  it back in his pocket and returning to Papyrus’ side. You mulled over the names for a minute, thinking. There were two versions of you with the same name, but the others looked so similar. And there was no way the blue one was simply you from the future. You knew your cracks wouldn’t heal. Maybe Edge’s claims were more valid than it seemed at first.

“Wow, older you's kinda lame,” your brother blurted, causing Mutt to immediately choke on his drink.

Almost instantly realizing his mistake, the boy slapped a hand over his mouth. Red threw himself into a fit of laughter, almost rolling off of the loveseat.

“O-Oh, I'm sorry, Sans!”  he quickly apologized, frantic eyes searching you. “A-And other Sans,” he quickly amended, sockets now pleading to the other. “Future you seems very, uh… nice?”

He awkwardly floundered, getting an unimpressed flat look from you. He rarely did something like this, usually being so careful with his words. It seemed he didn’t know what to do about it. Red and Mutt were cackling to the side, and you swore you saw Edge and Milord’s stifled smirks.

You finally gave in, dropping your defensive posture and smiling in the slightest.

“Oh, Papyrus… how you wound me,” you sighed, dramatically placing a hand to your chest.

“I-I didn’t mean anything by it!” 

“No, I can't forgive you. I can't believe you could do this to me,” you shook your head seriously.

You slumped, placing your forehead in your hands, mock-sulking. Your shoulders jerked up and down dramatically like you were sobbing.

“W-Wait,” your brother squirmed, tapping the monster’s arm and wriggling until Papyrus placed him on the floor.

He hurried over to you, patting your head desperately to get your attention.

“Don’t be sad, I still-ACK!”

You had shot out from your hunched position, snatching Papyrus and holding him tight against your chest. 

“Sans! Lemme go!” Papyrus whined, kicking his legs in the air uselessly.

“Nope. This is your punishment. Now you can’t leave.” You stated, tone serious.

“Saaaaans!” He groaned, falling limp in your arms. “That’s it. I’m jello now.”

“My jello,” you corrected.

A snicker garnered your attention, and you caught Red trying to stifle his enjoyment. Edge was trying to hide the fond look, but only turned his head away, the smile still evident through the corners of his jaw. 

Even other Sans’ expression were soft, and you immediately straightened, jolting Papyrus with the surprise. You loosened your grip, no longer trapping Papyrus as he sat in your lap again.

How could you have forgotten about them?

As of sensing your unease, Sans opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Mutt.

“You two are cute,” he stated factually.

You felt warmth climb up your features with your blush, nerves returning.

You had forgotten about their presence completely. Another mistake. Weakness.

Embarrassed at your slip up, you felt your face warm further. Lucky for you, your own Papyrus took the brunt of attention with his uproar.

“I am not cute! I am the epic Papyrus!”

“I thought you were great?” You mused, raising a brow-bone.

“Oh no, I am. But there can only be one Great Papyrus, and he’s obviously greater,” he stated, hiking a thumb to his alternate version.

The other Papyrus blushed profusely, covering his face with his gloves.

“Nyeh-heh-heh!” he mumbled into the pieces, flustered beyond comprehension.

“Careful, kid, you flatter him any more and he might just break,” the other Sans pointed out.

“But I’m so cool!” Your brother defended, not seeing the problem.

Alternate Papyrus was glowing, and you could practically see the steam rolling off of his skull.

“Technically, they’re no more futuristic than we are,” Fell shrugged, picking something in his teeth.

“You are in an Alternate universe, not the future,” Edge continued.

Your brother drooped slightly, but straightened back just as quickly.

“That doesn’t matter! It’s still so cool!”

“Care to add anything?” You questioned, raising a brow. You might as well get this ‘meeting’ over with.

“This is surface, humans are at an uneasy peace, and we have yet to find a way back to our universes. Hot-dogs aren’t actually made of dogs, we are all alternate versions of you, and you will likely have to live here until further notice.”  Milord elaborated.

He listed off the facts on each finger, as if he’d done it hundreds of times before.

“Oh,” You stated blandly.

Silence followed, and a few skeleton seemed to hold their breaths. They continued to watch with bated breath, as if expecting a horrifying reaction. You did nothing else, befuddled at the tension.

“Oh?” Mutt repeated, confused.

“That’s all you have’ta say?” Red exclaimed, bemused. “Your home is gone, and you’re literally stuck in another universe! What do you mean, ‘oh’!?”

“Red!” Edge scolded, shocked at his outburst.

“What!? He should be freakin’ out right now!” Red defended.

“Maybe he’s in shock?” Mutt offered, just as lost.

The group began to hiss at each other, your thoughts drifting again.

In retrospect, you probably should have been more upset. You had technically just lost everything you knew. You didn’t trust these people, and for all you knew this was just some elaborate test. 

But, in all honesty? You didn’t really feel shock anymore. You had no attachments left but your brother, and he was right here. You couldn’t care less what happened to you anymore. 

You had been numbed to an extent you no longer cared. As for Papyrus? He had nothing there. And here he was, smiling and laughing. 

It was an expression that took so much work to see, back in that place. You would have to drag it out of him in that stars-forsaken room each meeting. He hadn’t opened up so fast in years, and he seemed like he was finally… being a kid. 

You knew couldn’t trust them. Who could in a position like yours? But as of now, if what they claimed was the truth, you had nothing else you could do but stay and wait for it all to crumble. You had nowhere to go, and all the time in the world to finally… do nothing.

The group seemed to be bickering amongst themselves, none of them expecting the words to come out of your mouth next.

“Where are we staying?”

Chapter Text

To answer one of the most common questions I’ve received so far: What are Sans and Pap’s ages?

Answer: I actually don’t know their exact ages. Their universe is wacky, lol. Though mentally I’d say Paps is about at 7-9 years of age and Sans is a young adult. As are most of the Sanses I write, really. I know I briefly mentioned Papyrus was 10 in a previous chapter, but considering he’s from a war zone, plus the fact most ten-year-olds I meet vary pretty wildly in maturity… I estimate he might be even a little younger than that. He’d DEFINITELY still be in elementary school, though.

Poor bby ):

Classic Paps, go make mini-you feel better about his self-confidence. Fix that boi up. That’s an order.

And now back to your regularly scheduled angst.

____________

Mutt led you and Papyrus down the hall, passing various bedrooms on the way. Stopping, he swept an arm outwards, gesturing to a pair of doors like he were some sort of game show host.

“And here are your new abodes,” he declared, voice grandiose.

With a flourish, he opened the first door to reveal the room inside. It was rather empty, by normal standards, but looked so nice. There was a plain bed pressed against the far left side of the wall, and a window just beside it. Across the foot of the bed, was an oak dresser. A similar oak nightstand was placed snugly against the bed, a few nicks evident but otherwise in pristine shape.

“I was thinking this would be your room,” Mutt explained to you, walking out and into the hall. “We kinda always assume you’d wanna be next to each other, so this would be Papyrus’ room.”

He turned the handle on the door next to yours, revealing the room to be almost exactly identical to the last. 

Papyrus would be right next to you? Just a wall away? 

You almost wanted to share the room right with him, seeing how close you were. You simply nodded silently, mind whirring to take in the new information. Wandering back into your own space, your Papyrus and Mutt followed. You couldn’t help but admire the size and state of it. Sure, it wasn’t anything fancy, but compared to the cots and barracks you were used to sleeping on, this felt like a room for royalty.

“You, uh, you okay there bud? You’ve been standin’ there for quite a while now.”

You shook your head of the thoughts, mind returning to the present. Undyne always said that was a bad habit, disappearing like that. You thought you had fixed it by now… this place was doing weird things to you.

“No, uh, I’m fine,” you assured, eyes still flicking across the space, taking in every detail. “It’s just… big.”

You didn’t elaborate any more, and Mutt didn’t press. With a shrug, he began walking back to the living room.

“M’kay, make yourselves at home. Dinner’s at six, there’s clocks on your nightstands. You should come, Edge’ll prolly blow a fuse if you’re late.”

You nodded numbly, taking in the information with a soldier’s memory. With a wink and a mock salute, Mutt disappeared, leaving you and Papyrus alone. Papyrus let out a sigh of relief, before shakily looking up to you.

“These are… r-really ours?” He muttered, voice filled with caution.

“…Yes,” you confirmed with confidence you didn’t have, pushing away your own doubts at his trembling voice.

Papyrus had always been such a good kid. He knew how to be quiet. He knew to not trust in miracles, since they always had a catch. He was naive when it came to people, but brilliant in working in his own environment. He was everything you could ever ask for. And now? Even you didn’t know what to do.

“I’m… we should just go to dinner, okay? Don’t worry about a thing. I know this is… weird. If something happens, come straight to me, okay?”

You knelt down, booping Papyrus on his nose-hole. He smiled, covering the spot with a shaky hand. His smile only grew, and he quickly ran over to his door, bursting in with the energy only a 10 year-old could have. You chuckled, warily eyeing your own room.

It was just all too good to be true. 

That was never a good sign.

You’d have to be careful at dinner, you wouldn’t want to anger anyone this time around. Who knew their ulterior motives? Your gaze slid to the door, and out of habit, you reached to close it. A tiny boot poked into the frame, stopping it from shutting.

“Papyrus?” You questioned, opening the door a tad to spot your brother’s return.

“A-Actually…” he mumbled, fiddling with his fingers nervously. “Can I… stay with you until we leave? Please?”

You smiled softly, opening the door further to let him in. You wouldn’t admit your relief to anyone.

“It would be my honor.”

___________

The table was full, surrounded by chairs filled with skeletons. Soft murmurs floated across as they discussed, and you could feel the glances towards you as they ate. The food looked abnormally nice, and fresh, too. The plates were pristine, with no cracks, and the table was clean and straight. It felt oddly surreal, being surrounded by things of similar stature.

You sat in silence, eyeing the plate set before you. ‘Welcome spaghetti’, they had called it.

You didn’t understand the gesture, but you supposed the name explained the purpose well-enough.

“So….” Red drawled, poking his food with a fork. “What’s with the mask?”

“Sans!” Edge scolded, slapping said skeleton on the back of the skull.

“What? We were all thinkin’ it!” Red defended.

The two began to bicker, no longer paying attention to you. You weren't very hungry, and the amount on your plate seemed almost monstrous to the rations you were used to. 

You prodded the food with a fork, pushing it around your plate aimlessly. You could feel Axe’s eyesights boring into you, his own plate empty. The unnerving gaze wavered only for Butch when he’d ask a question, before immediately locking back onto you. 

Those ominous sockets were squinted, watching you in what might have been a glare. You didn’t really understand why he was staring so intently, and you instead tuned into your brother's conversation to avoid the uncomfortable feeling. Was Ace… still hungry, or something…?

Papyrus had been unbearably tense at first, sitting next to you and not knowing just how to join the conversation at the table. But by now, he had grown into it exceptionally, and was excitedly chatting with his taller version again. 

It was back to the same open friendliness from the living room. Soon enough, he’d have to build the courage up all over again just to talk. You were glad he was opening up, you only wished it didn’t take so long. That he didn’t struggle with something like connecting.

You only wished it wasn’t dangerous to.

“And then what?” Your brother excitedly queried, continuing the conversation as if he were friends with this stranger his whole life.

He had turned his seat to face his alternate a while ago, leaning on the edge of it as he excitedly waited for the end of the extravagant tale.

“And then… the dog tripped, and I snatched the bone up victoriously!” Papyrus dramatically exclaimed.

Your brother’s jaw dropped, and you could practically see the sparkles surrounding his skull.

“How on earth did you catch up to it in time!?”

“I'm a fast runner!” the other declared.

He placed his fists on his hips, puffing his chest out proudly.

“Man, that’s so cool! I kinda wish you were still me, I wanna do stuff like that too…”

“Well sure you can! And I am proof of that! I assure you, small friend, you can be as great as me no matter the universe!”

He patted your brother’s head, scruffing it as if he had hair. You were glad your brother was taking this well, it would have been hard to manage if he had any attachments to what he saw as his home.

You never wanted him to see that wretched place as a home, anyways.

“F-Friend? We’re friends?” He stuttered, eyes widening.

“But of course!”

“And I have a nickname!?”

“Yeeees?” The taller seemed to be on the same train of thought, leaning in excitedly.

“That is so cool!” Your brother cheered.

“It’s official now!”

The two beamed, laughing and eagerly celebrating their “official” friendship together.

“I mean, technically ya’ will be gettin a real one anyways,” Mutt pointed out, propping his feet up on the table.

Milord immediately shoved them off, silently glaring at the sibling.

“Huh?” Your brother cocked his head to the side.

“A nickname,” Mutt elaborated.

“It gets confusin’ having a million ‘Papyrus’ and ‘Sans’,” Red grunted.

“Oh yes! It gets rather hard to explain to people...” The taller Papyrus added.

“You know, explainin’ how we're not alternate clones of each other and such,” Red drawled with a hint of sarcasm.

“Speaking of which,” Milord cleared his throat, drawing the attention to him. “I would prefer to do that sooner rather than later.”

“What, runnin’ out of insults for degenerate number one and degenerate number two?” Red teased, leaning his head uncomfortably close to Milord’s.

“Do not be coy, only one of them earned that title,” Milord huffed, shoving him away. Red only smiled. “My will cows to no one. I have a multitude of colorful names for the clod that has been spared from the lazy and crude language that you default to,” he explained, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow at one skeleton in particular. 

“What, like ‘shithead’?”

Milord clenched his jaw, brow bone twitching.

“I simply believe we need an actual name for them,” Milord continued, painfully ignoring Red.

“Yeah, like stabby and cutie-pie,” Mutt offered.

“We are not naming them that,” Edge grunted, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, I'm not cute!” Your brother pouted.

“And it’s a bit too... literal?” The blue Sans offered with a shrug.

“What, like Edgelord mc-fartface and Red aren't literal enough?” Axe grunted, elbow on the table and holding his jaw in clawed phalanges.

“Do not slander my name!” Edge screeched. “You are named after a mere object!”

“There’s plenty of names named after objects,” Axe shrugged slowly. “Aliza, Lily.. Tyler, Aliza… Papyrus, Chase… Aliza, Axel, Pixel, Jett, Aliza”-

Butch placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, garnering the smaller’s attention.

“You’ve said Aliza four times now, Axe.”

“...Oh.”

The table went silent.

“...Did I mention Aliza?”

“O-kay, that’s enough of that for now,” Sans decided, standing up and clapping his hands together. “We need an actual name.”

“How about shithead?” Red immediately offered, which garnered yet another slap across the cranium from Edge. He yelped.

“What? It was a joke!” He defended.

“I want a cool name!” Your brother decided. “Like Papyrus number two!”

“I don’t think that's gonna work, deer,” Butch delicately placated. “Maybe something shorter?”

“Edge gets a long name,” he defended.

“Yes, well, the difference is I have more grandeur,” Edge puffed.

This time, it was Edge who got a slap across the skull, courtesy of Butch.

“What does that mean?” Your brother queried, confused.

“He’s saying he’s cooler than ya’, kid,” Red translated.

“Hey! No you aren’t!” He whined, placing his hands on his hips. “I have a friend, and all the kindness I need, and that's the biggest and coolest strength of all!”

“…Stars, I think I'm gonna die, that's so fucking cute,” Red bemoaned, smothering his face with a hand and clutching at his chest.

“Am I your first friend?” The taller Papyrus questioned, confused.

“Yeah?”

“I have the honor… of being your first real friend!?” He gasped.

The two fell back into an excited bout of rambling, squeeing excitedly until Sans interrupted them.

“We still need a name, guys.”

“Right!” Papyrus nodded, smiling apologetically.

“What about Mask and Shorty?” Mutt raised his hand.

“Shithead’s still on the table”~

“RED.”

“Ow! Okay, Okay! I get it!”

“What about ‘clone one’ and ‘clone one’s brother’?”

“Can’t we just ask them?”

“How about Bernice?”

The group began bickering yet again, a small uproar of ideas spilling forth without any progress. Your two Papyri were still excitedly rambling together, almost deliberately remaining oblivious of their surroundings.

You recalled MK. Your games, your nicknames…

The day you met him. 

The day you killed him.

“Clover.” you suddenly spoke, silencing the table.

“Huh?” Someone queried.

“Clover,” you repeated, firmer.

“Isn’t that a fuckin’ weed?”

This time it was Milord who had the honor of slapping Red. He let out a small ‘oof’, upon impact. He leaned up slowly, gingerly rubbing the back of his sore head, likely thanks to the repeated attacks he’d merited so far.

“It's a wonderful name,” Milord stated, clearing his throat.

“It's nice to meet you, Clover!” Papyrus exclaimed, offering a hand for you to shake.

You couldn’t help but suddenly recall the memory. Of MK, as he reintroduced himself all that time ago. When you got your name, for real. You could feel the black liquid of your fears building up in the back of your head, threatening to spill out and expose you to the world.

But your dead socket, adamant on telling everyone your inner hatred for yourself, was to stay trapped behind your half-mask. You ignored the feeling, burying it back down before it showed. No emotions, no ooze. Easy.

You concisely nodded in acknowledgement, not shaking his hand. He seemed a little disappointed by this, but lowered the glove and smiled again. 

You felt your brother tugging on your empty sleeve, ushering you to lean closer. You conceded, leaning down for him to whisper something next to your skull. He covered his mouth with a hand, as if he were sharing something top secret. 

“What… what was that pretty plant called? The yellow one?” He whispered, as if the question was forbidden.

Your soul twinged, and it almost broke you that he still remembered that day, so long ago. The weed.

“It was a Creeping Buttercup.” You whispered.

He looked up, contemplating something as he took in the several gazes of the table.

“Is Buttercup a girl’s name?” He asked warily.

“Usually, yeah,” Axe answered.

“Oh…” he muttered, looking a little disappointed.

“Do you want that?” Mutt raised a brow, slouched deep into his chair.

“No, I don't think so,” he quietly shook his head. “I just thought…”

He didn't seem to know how to explain, but you smiled softly.

“I don't get what you guys have with weeds,” Red mumbled, not risking saying any more as Milord and Edge sent warning glares his way.

An idea seemed to hit your brother, as he sat up straighter.

“Then, how about fern?”

Your eyes widened, surprised. Was he that adamant on matching yours, or was the memory really that important to him?

“That's a plant, right? Like a buttercup?” He asked for confirmation, looking to you.

You nodded slowly.

“That's my name, then. ‘Fern Buttercup’, 'cuz if Edge can have 4 names, I can have two.”

He nodded to himself, proud of his logic.

“You want your middle name to be ‘Buttercup’?” Butch asked, curious.

“Yes. I… it's a bit too girly,” he scrunched his face up, much like any elementary-school boy would at the idea. “But I really want it to be in my name. Just… don't call me that. Often, at least.”

Mutt smiled fondly, and then his grin twitched up in a crooked manner.

“Whatever you say, Butters.”

________________

It didn’t take long before some of the skeletons began shuffling out, depositing their dishes in the kitchen. Butch leaned down, picking up Axe’s plate and stacking it atop his own. It had been carefully licked clean, despite the responsible skeleton looking nothing like the particularly sanitary type. 

He had resumed his staring, causing you to shift uncomfortably in your seat. Mutt passed by, holding a hand out in a silent question and tilting a head to your plate. You nodded, signaling you were done, and handed him the dish. He paused, staring at the large amount left for a moment, but said nothing.

Upon his exit, you found yourself trapped at the table, not knowing where to go from there. Your brother, Fern, seemed to be in the same boat. You tried avoiding eye contact with Axe, the only stranger left at the table now. You weren’t intimidated by him, of course. You could kill him in a heartbeat if he tried anything!

But something about his gaze unsettled you.

“You barely ate,” Axe grunted, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

You looked up, only for a moment, before you averted your eyelights again.

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

You noticed Papyrus entering the hall, making eye contact with Fern. Papyrus waved, and Fern perked up considerably, likely wanting to try hanging out with the taller.

“‘M not hungry,” you responded, lamely, eyes drifting. 

You locked eyelights with Papyrus, preferring the distraction as he silently waved at you two.

“May we be excused?”

Axe blinked for a moment, confused by the sudden question. Something seemed to click, and reluctantly nodded. He seemed unhappy about it, but you didn’t care to ask why. Fern leapt off his seat, scurrying over to Papyrus, you slowly following behind.

“Hello, little friend! And Clover!” He smiled, still waving excitedly despite you standing directly in front of him. “I was wondering if you would maybe like to ‘hang out’?” He asked, fidgeting with his gloves and turning to Fern.

“C-Can I?” Fern asked, beaming at you hopefully.

“Sure,” you sighed, smiling fondly.

Out of all the skeletons, Papyrus seemed to be the most trustworthy.

He led you both down the hall, excitedly chirping with Fern about what they could do. Ascending the stairs, he kicked the door of a room to your left open and waltzed in, Fern trailing behind. Slumping against the wall of the hall, you leaned your head next to the door.

Fern poked his head out, realizing you hadn’t followed them inside.

“Do you wanna join us? He says he’s got figures, built just for making epic poses!”

Ah, action figures. You shook your head, leaning further to the floor and getting comfortable.

“Nah, I'm good. You two have fun, I'll probably just take a nap.”

Fern nodded, smiling at you before retreating back into the room.

He could have his fun without you hovering.

Well, without you hovering in the room, at the very least.

You hear various action-y noises and forms of onomatopoeia soon follow out, along with several “ooh”’s and “aaah”’s, courtesy of your brother. You smiled to yourself.

You wanted him to have fun, really. He never had any time like this before. Still, you didn’t take a nap, carefully listening to the goings on of the bedroom. You really, really didn't trust these skeletons. 

You tried to relax, really tried, but after a particularly loud clack of plastic, your form tensed all over again. Stars, you were so on edge. Your mind was sharpened, listening deliberately for any sign of danger, almost in hopes of a fight. Something, anything to distract yourself from your mind’s tension. You felt taught, like a rope coiled too tight.

Suddenly, the AC whirred to life, causing you to whip your skull in the direction of a nearby vent. Oh. You had forgotten AC was a thing, really. Outside of the apocalypse. Slowly, you returned to gaze to your lap. Why were you like this?

With a shaky breath, you exhaled, dragging a subtly quivering hand down your skull. Groaning, you placed your elbow in a floating hand, fingers covering your mouth and chin as you thought. 

You bounced your knee up and down, disliking being so still. You were always on the move, back in your Universe. You always had something to do. Something to kill. You always had to be aware of everything, because there was always something after you.

You just couldn't let it go.

In hindsight, if you wanted to keep Fern safe you would have sat in the room with them. But, you really wanted him to have this. You were fast, and Papyrus seemed decent enough. Maybe you could have this?

...Or Maybe Gaster trained you too well.

Chapter Text

“...And this is bone cologne! You can use it if you want to smell magnificent! Alternatively, the bone cream has a rather nice scent, but you’d have to actually shower with it for it to work.”

Papyrus rattled off the different toiletries he had piled in his arms, handing you each one individually and pointing to their labels as he spoke. It was hard enough with one arm, but the sheer number of products was baffling. What even is, ‘bone cologne’, really? Why do you need it? What does ‘magnificence’ even smell like?

You just nodded, not really understanding most of it. He turned you around, ushering you into a nearby bathroom.

“Now go! Try them out!”

“What?” You queried, still being shoved into the bathroom.

“Take a shower! Take your time, you look like death.”

You paused for a moment, and Papyrus went rigid.

“Was that a pu”-

“OKAY CLEAN UP NOW BYE!” Papyrus blurted, slamming the door.

You shook your head, placing the mound of supplies out on the counter. You shuffled to the shower, examining the knobs carefully. You were vaguely aware of plumbing, some areas still having it back in ‘Gaster’s world’, as you called it. ‘home’ just didn't seem right for it. You recognized, likely from your past lives, that you were supposed to turn a knob, but…

Why were there three knobs?

For quite some time, you just ended up turning the knobs in different combinations until water came out. Sticking a hand in the stream coming from above, you were shocked at its warmth. Gingerly, you grabbed one of the knobs with your free hand and turned it. 

Soon, you felt the temperature turn icy on your phalanges. Fiddling with the temperature, you were fascinated by the wide range of water available to you. You eventually concluded that the further right you turned the middle knob, the hotter the water. 

What was it they said, way back when? It was bad to waste hot water? Settling on the coldest temperature, you stood for a moment, hand outstretched. The warm water felt nice and soothing, but you did savor the numbing feeling in your bones of the former. 

…You also didn’t want to make anyone angry.

You had no idea how you turned the water on in the first place, and you probably wouldn’t remember later, but you deemed the shower ready. Stripping down, you peeled off your muddy pants and reluctantly removed your jacket. You held it in front of you for a moment, examining its black leather-like texture. 

It was funny, really. You had always seen this as your uniform. It was the sign for Gaster’s ownership over you. Yet, despite this, you didn’t want to let it go. It had been with you virtually every moment you worked. Every mission. Everywhere you had ever been, it had been also. 

It had seen much in its life, all of your hardships, yet it still represented your belonging to Gaster. Your attachment. You didn't want to get rid of it, though. You don't remember when it had happened, really. Not recalling when Gaster had changed even your clothing to be a symbol of your objectification, but you couldn’t remember even a moment you stood without it. 

It was yours, not his. 

Setting the piece of old leather on the counter, you stared at it again, stepping away. You wouldn’t get rid of it. Not yet. It felt comfortable. Safe. For a moment, you reached up to your half of a mask to remove it, but wavered. You dropped your hand, deciding to keep it on. Satisfied, you climbed into the shower and just let the water run through you. The droplets clinging to your bones and chilling you to the core. 

Good. Numb. That’s a good feeling.

You reached out of the shower and grabbed a bar of soap Papyrus gave you, turning it around in your hands. You’re supposed to use soap, correct? 

You halfheartedly scrubbed your ribs and fibulas, before calling it good enough. As long as they couldn’t smell you, you were good to go, right? 

You stood stewing in the icy water for a moment, before reluctantly leaving. You turned a bunch of random knobs again, and the water shut off, leaving you feeling abnormally clean. 

It felt kind of nice. You shook yourself off, water splattering against a nearby wall. Reaching for your clothes, you began putting them back on. There were some grey robe-like pants and a white T-shirt on a stool nearby, just your size. Were you supposed to do something with those?

You shook your head. Deciding not to question them, you pulled on your normal clothes anyway, tugging the jacket back on to its rightful place. That’s better. You felt a lot safer with it on. 

You eyed the multitude of supplies by the sink, before averting your gaze. Nope. Not dealing with all that complicated stuff. You used soap and that’s probably enough. You leaned your skull against the door, listening for anyone. 

Ah, right. You didn’t have to do that anymore. It was a force of habit, but you still felt uneasy. These were unknown waters, and any unknown territory always ended in a fight. The only living exception was long gone by now, and even he had died by your own hand. 

Your soul sank slightly, and you gently pushed the door open. ‘Don’t think about MK right now.’

You meandered around the room, taking in all the little grooves and dents in the walls. You peeked out of the bedroom, wandering through the halls, but found yourself inevitably at a loss as for what to do. 

Back then, you always had orders. You’d always had something to work on. You felt lost. Out of place. Multiple times you found yourself outside of your brother’s room, often doing nothing in particular. 

Maybe it was the fact he was with you now, in a sense, but you couldn’t resist leaning by his doorframe. Being close to him again, now whenever you decide to be. The soft bustle of skeletons began to echo through the rooms, each slowly starting their day. You absently wondered if you’d ever be like that. Normal again.

…Why is it that your mind always wandered back there?

“Oh, ‘sup, Clover?” Mutt greeted, slowly approaching the door you were leaning on.

You subconsciously tensed at his approach. Mutt’s eyes flicked to your posture, but if he noticed anything, he didn’t say anything.

“I was gonna get your brother for breakfast. ‘Long as you’re here I can tell ya’ both.”

An awkward silence fell between the two of you.

“So… uh. Breakfast. Wanna come?”

“Clover! You have been avoiding meals all week! I demand you join us!” Papyrus’ voice exclaimed, the man of the hour racing up the stairs and down the hall to Fern’s room.

He skidded to a stop, practically burning the carpet as he did so.

He paused for a moment, contemplative, before adding on.

“Please?”

Clover glanced to his brother's door, giving a soft knock. Curious, a small head poked out, surprised at seeing the three monsters.

“What’s up?” Fern queried, unmoving from his spot behind the doorframe. Smart.

“Breakfast!” Papyrus cheered, placing his hands on his hips.

Fern visibly brightened, scurrying out from the safety of the door and following Papyrus down the stairs. As they descended, you could hear the excited chatter of Papyrus explaining the importance of the meal.

“I know ya’ don’t usually come,” Mutt shrugged.

He lit a dog treat, placing it in his mouth.

You internally scrunched at the smell, reminding you of the old camp in Gaster’s Universe.

“But Paps really misses you two. We both know you love your brother, and as safe as it may seem to hide up here and eat in your rooms, maybe you could give us another chance?”

He chose not to mention the filled plates being left behind at yours.

He rubbed the back of his skull. You didn’t really have much of a choice, did you? You let Fern get past you alone. And as friendly as Papyrus seemed, there were six other skeletons, five of which looked to be just as deadly on the outside as they were on the inside.

“I know we didn't exactly get off on the right foot”-

You snorted at that, before quickly smothering it.

-”But as much as you probably don’t trust me or the others, as long as we’re living under the same roof, could we at least try to tolerate each other?”

You were silent, before slowly making your way to the stairs. Mutt fell into step with you, smiling slightly. It was weird.

“It's hard to trust people. That’s okay. You don’t have to like us. Even if it's just Papyrus, I'm glad you're trusting someone with your bro.”

You raised a brow at that, surprised. Mutt only chuckled.

“You're following your brother like a shadow. It's obvious you care for him. And if I had to guess? He might be the only real reason you’re coming down here.”

You were a little shocked at this statement. Face stony, you refused to show such feelings.

“Let him have this, and then decide if you want to hate our guts.”

Who was he to tell you what to do? You knew better than to argue. But, he was right. Fern was currently down there by himself, and the second he left your sight you had almost already decided you were going. 

Stars, he really was your weak spot. It was dangerous, and you had been carefully listening for a sign of such dangers lurking. But Fern needed this. You could only hide the both of you- feigning ‘family bonding time’- for so long before he needed to come out. 

Even if it made you nervous. If you didn’t, then you would be trapping him. You would never do that. You would worry, and hover, but you would never let yourself be anything worse, something no better than Gaster. 

No, this is why you fought in the first place. Silently, you trotted past Mutt, working your way to the table downstairs. Mutt chuckled again, watching.

You sat silently at the table, staring at your plate. You could feel the eyes on you as everyone settled down, grabbing drinks and other necessities before almost immediately watching, like you were just some intriguing bug. Even worse, was the fact you could feel Axe’s familiar eye once again locked onto your skull.

“I was hoping you’d come down! Butch helped me make breakfast burritos!” Papyrus chirped, continuing to excitedly place plates in front of the remaining skeletons.

He either didn't notice the silent table, or didn't acknowledge them as he rambled on.

Axe, despite his gaze flicking back to you, seemed to be struggling to not eat the food yet. Odd as it was, you kept the observation to yourself, staring a hole through your own egg-filled burrito.

“Utensils are optional,” Papyrus continued, shuffling around the table with a hand of knives and forks.

They were spread out like a deck of cards, a few skeletons plucking some out as he passed. Papyrus had split his handful of silverware with Sans, who reluctantly began assisting in passing the items out.

Satisfied, Edge began to aggressively cut up his burrito. Seeing this, Axe snapped his focus from you to gorge himself on his own burrito, no silverware needed. Based on his violent tearing through the item, he was really hungry.

It was the clink of metal that brought you from your inanimate staring contest, catching the glint of sharp blades. You flexed your hand, feeling an unusual sense wash over you. 

A dull knife was placed in front of you, before Sans casually sat back down a few seats away. He only smiled, eating his food.

You remained silent for the rest of breakfast.

Dinner proceeded similarly, the staring never ceasing completely. The knife lay there again, just as untouched as your food, as you felt your mask grow a little cooler. 

Axe’s eyelights snapped back to you, as you began to softly rattle. His gaze shifted, some indiscernible emotion in his sockets being quickly ignored by you as you tried to center yourself. Your breathing hitched, finding it struggling to flow smoothly and resulting in shaky exhales.

“Clover?” Sans raised a brow, cautious.

You could feel the familiar burn in your sockets, the black threatening to spill yet again. This was two meals in a row, Sans! Get yourself together!

Still, the knives surrounding you sent a chill to your soul you couldn’t pinpoint. You had never had issues with blades. Why now?

‘Hold still, Sans! Damnit, you’re not listening!”

The cold metal brushed your arm.

‘You will learn some kind lesson today, whether it hurts or not. Let’s make it a good one, so sit. Still!’

You could feel the ooze building as he grabbed your arms, pinning you down with his extra hands. The blade was raised to your wrist, pressing to it dangerously. Right. You had two arms. Why did you think you wouldn’t? Wait. No, no. You had one. Gaster cut the other off to divert magic to your soul. Fuck, what on earth is wrong with you?

“Who’s going to run the dishwasher tonight?” Papyrus queried, oblivious to the rattling of your bones.

It was an out.

“I will!” You blurted, standing up and slamming your palms to the table.

Silence followed, all browbones lifted in various mixes of surprise and concern, Papyrus eyeing you now with more attention than before. Well, all expressions were surprised save for Edge and Axe, the taller of which only scowled per usual. You think that was just his default expression.

“Clover!” Papyrus stammered, a little uneasy. “Thank you! Though, I must ask… are you oka-?”

You hurriedly picked up your dishes, pacing around and collecting the others. Silently, you fled to the kitchen.

…

“Well, that was rude,” Red snorted.

Edge jabbed his side with an elbow, earning a small grin from the smaller in return.

__________________________

Hands shaking, you set the dishes in a pile on the counter. You took a few shaky breaths, pacing, before turning to the issue at hand. You had never experienced something like that. Not in a long time. 

You forced yourself to calm down, the shaking coming to a slow. You were fine. You were fine!

Slowly, you picked up a plate, turning it around in your phalanges. It was practically licked clean, and by the way Axe was actually licking his plate for a solid minute, you assumed it was his. 

You spun yourself in a small circle, searching for the ‘dishwasher’, before pausing at a silver box. It was embedded next to some lower cabinets, near-flush with them, save for its protruding handlebar. Gingerly, you reached out and hooked your fingers around the handle, flicking it towards yourself. You yanked your hand back as if it would burn you, watching it carefully. It didn’t do anything but sit there, slightly ajar.

It abruptly hissed, sending a jolt through your bones. You waited, cautiously. Seeing nothing happen, you reached back and began slowly lowering the door until it was wide open. Upon doing so, the lip revealed an armada of buttons and labels you could barely process. It was at this moment you remembered you did not, in fact, know how to use a dishwasher. 

You wracked your mind for any memories of your past lives, your human one being particularly difficult. The most you could recall was the fact that this silver box was, indeed, a dishwasher. 

‘Wow, how helpful,’ you thought, internally cursing your picky memory.

Carefully analyzing the options, you clutched the plate a little tighter. Placing a floating hand to your mouth, you wrapped a finger around your jaw in thought. Your fading nerves had likely influenced the obliviousness you showed to the pair or red eyelights that had been watching you. 

Sighing after gleaning absolutely nothing from your contemplation, you knelt, sliding a rack out to begin debating where to even put the plates.

“‘Yer actin’ like it’s gonna bite ya’,” a gruff voice commented beside you.

You jolted, skull snapping to the entryway and a bone automatically summoning to your floating hand. Red chuckled, stepping into the kitchen and approaching. You stiffened when he crouched beside you, looking over the dishwasher. Ignoring your weapon, he swiped the plate from your hand and shoved it in a lower rack.

“You do know how to use a dishwasher, right?”

You didn’t respond. Rolling his eyes, Red dramatically stood and gathered the plates, haphazardly tossing some into the machine and slamming the door shut.

You’re pretty sure that wasn’t how it was supposed to be done.

“Do I… do anything else?”

“Well, ya’ gotta give it some soap first. It’s gotta clean somehow, you know?”

“Ah, so then I’ll just wait here for it to be done?”

“Wait? What for?”

“To… dry them? And put them away?”

You subtly realized you didn’t actually know where any of the dishes went.

“Nah, it’s an automatic dishwasher. It’ll dry for you? And you don’t gotta stand here and wait ‘fer it to wash. You can go do something else for a whole.”

You stared, dumbly.

”…You seriously don’t get it?”

You looked away.

“Look, it's cool, I don't really give a shit about what you do or don’t know. But you don't gotta worry about any of that cleaning stuff, at least. It works on its own.”

He stood up, brushing his shorts off and pointing to a container of dish soap on the counter.

“But first, give it the soap.”

Gingerly, you reached for the jug of blue dish-soap, stealing glances Red’s way to confirm you were doing it right. Once in your hand, you stood in front of the machine, a little lost for a moment, unsure.

“...you gotta take the cap off.”

Ah. Right. You quickly unscrewed the cap. Anxiously, you thrust it toward the washing machine, squeezing your eyes shut as you held it aloft.

A moment of silence passed, before being abruptly shattered by a snort. Peeking an eye open, Red was no longer staring at the washing machine. He was watching you, expression confused as he tried to stifle his giggles.

“You-You gotta pour it in, dude,” he snickered. 

“I thought you said it was automatic?”

“Not that automatic!” He exclaimed. “‘Yer kiddin’, right?”

Your confused blinking was all the answer he needed before he burst into another fit of laughter.

“Oh-Oh stars! You were serious!”

Barely standing, he swiped the container and popped open the washing machine door. He poured it into a compartment you couldn't see from there, before pushing some random button and slamming it shut with a foot.

“W-Wow, I can’t-you were serious! I can’t believe it!” He continued, cackling.

“How so?” You queried, crossing your arms and raising a brow. 

Something about the way he was acting left you feeling miffed.

“You 'ain't never seen a dishwasher before?”

“Well, I”-

The machine suddenly came to life, a whoosh of water whirring from the door making you jump.

Red cackled again, pressing a hand to his face and bending backwards.

“It’s not gonna kill ya’!” He chortled.

He bent over, hands resting on his haunches as tears pricked his sockets.

“If you’re just gonna laugh at me, I can leave,” you huffed, taking a step towards the dining room.

“No, no,” he chuckled, waving a hand. “I’ll be good. B-But you should be thankin’ me, really. I don't know what world you come from that doesn’t have dishwashers, but that oughta really suck for parties.”

You rolled your eyes, and began redirecting your path to walk around the giggling pile of bones. Giving him a wide berth, you strolled back through to the dining area. 

It seemed just about everyone had left. Axe, however, was still in his chair. You felt your magic tingle, and if you had hair, it would likely be standing on end. His sole red eyelight flicked from the table to you.

His head was eerily still, eyes squinted and you took that as your cue to leave. He slowly opened his mouth, as if to speak, but you hurriedly shuffled down the hall. 

You had left everyone’s silverware on the table.