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English
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Published:
2016-08-09
Updated:
2016-08-27
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2,343
Chapters:
3/?
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96
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If I Were Gone, Would You Miss Me?

Summary:

[Based on the Deitale AU (http://deitaleau.tumblr.com)]

There was no use.
The timeline was corrupted. They'd failed.
They were a failure. They were a monster. They were-

“You cannot give up just yet.” He said softly, his voice barely a whisper.

Notes:

http://deitaleau.tumblr.com

I had a ton of fun writing this one! I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Void of Shimmering Stars

Chapter Text

“And this, my child, is your room. Perhaps you’d like to sleep, whilst I finish your pie?”

Frisk was shaking. They looked quickly up to Toriel, nodding and stepping into the dark room without a second’s thought.

This timeline felt wrong. There was something in the air that almost hurt – thick and heavy, almost sad. There was a glitter of sadness tangled within Toriel’s hopeful eyes that just wouldn’t leave them alone.

Even Flowey had seemed wrong. He looked… tired. Defeated, almost. What excuse for a soul he had was full of lingering hope and love. He’d ran them through the same song and dance, but he didn’t even bother being convincing – didn’t even complain when they dodged his bullets, simply sending out another array. When Toriel had returned, he hadn’t bothered waiting for her fireball to hit – with nothing but a sorry glance, he’d disappeared.

They were exhausted. Everything was wrong, and there was no doubt in their mind that Sans would blame them for it – not that they don’t already. It was definitely, undeniably their fault, and everyone knew it.

They sighed, allowing themselves to collapse on their bed, snuggling into the cold blankets and letting the darkness take them.

-0-0-0-0-0-

They were floating.

There was no doubt in their mind that this timeline was corrupted, now. Asgore’s warm voice hadn’t welcomed them – instead, a void of shimmering stars, swirling with purples and blues. They absently wondered if Sans would admire this place, if his eyesockets would light up like they did that first pacifist timeline, that first time he’d seen the stars. If he’d blush and ramble about galaxies and universes, unknowing that everyone watched him with fond smiles on their faces.

If this timeline were corrupted, they wouldn’t get that happy ending. Sans would never smile like that. Undyne would never jokingly punch Papyrus, telling him that his brother was such a dork. Papyrus would never sigh and smile and say that it runs in the family. Alphys would never engage with the smaller skeleton in loud scientific rambling. Toriel would never whisper space puns to him whenever his brother wasn’t looking. Asgore would never calmly stroke Flowey’s petals, kindly giving love and affection to someone he didn’t even know he knew.

They’d failed.

Tears began running down their cheeks before they could stop them, and they squeezed their dark eyes shut, letting out a moan of frustration and self-hatred. They were a failure. They were a monster. They were-

Warm arms wrapped around their waist, soft, gloved hands finding their way to their shoulderblades. They buried their face into the stranger’s chest without hesitation, bawling and whining loud enough to shake the stars.

The gloved hands squeezed their shoulders fondly, and their eyes shot open.

“P-Papyrus…?” they asked, their voice a whisper. Their eyes found a scarf covered in tiny specks of red light – souls, they realised, determined souls, kept warm by their dearest friend’s body. A familiar laugh sounded from above them, and the gloves found their way to Frisk’s jaw, leading them up to face him.

“You cannot give up just yet.” He said softly, his voice barely a whisper. The souls around his neck pulsed in time with his voice, and Frisk quickly realised that so did theirs. “Frisk! Please, stay determined.”

His body began fading. The stars blinked out. Frisk panicked, reaching out and grabbing fistfuls of his scarf – but they were too late.

“You are the hope of humans and monsters.”

And suddenly, the void was black, and Frisk was falling.

-0-0-0-0-0-

“Oh! I did not expect you to wake so soon!”

Toriel was sat at the end of the bed, a plate of pie in her paws. A quick glance and Frisk smiled – cinnamon-butterscotch. Their favourite.

“Did you have a good dream, my child? What did you see?”

Frisk hesitated for a moment, before opening their mouth. “A monster with a scarf of souls.” They said quietly. “He was very nice. He told me not to give up.”

The shock in Toriel’s eyes almost frightened them. They could feel her white-as-snow soul beating softly in her chest, a soft, elegant rhythm.

“You saw the Seraph, my child?” she asked quietly, eyes no longer so surprised. “You entered his void, and he spoke to you?”

Another moment of hesitation.

“Yes.” Frisk said softly, a sad smile on their face. “He is an old friend of mine.”

Their soul thumped with joy, and Frisk thought that, somewhere in the void, Papyrus’ scarf was thumping, too.

Chapter 2: Show Them Who's Boss

Summary:

Papyrus is the best at pep-talks. Undyne would be proud.

Notes:

ok so
this is the product of banana milkshakes and kitkats-

the chapters for this story will probably go frisk-pap-frisk-pap, with the occasional sans between them.

writing this entire thing on the spot, by the way, so don't expect too great of a plot.

Chapter Text

There it was.

A beautiful, perfect red soul. He calmly scooped it up, smiling down at it. It beat perfectly in time with his own, hot with determination. A passing thought of whether or not it would melt him like an amalgamate.

He dismissed it. Amalgams needed hopelessness to thrive. He was Hope.

The void around the soul turned a beautiful rose red, and he let out a soft laugh.

“Careful, Small Human,” he said softly, the fond nickname escaping before he could stop it. “Your Determination is leaking.”
The soul continued to pulse in time, whizzing around him like a plane. He couldn’t stop the loud Nyeh that escaped him – he didn’t do well with surprises. It suddenly halted beside his head, floating slowly closer, and slipping between his scarf and his neck.

Smiling fondly, Papyrus stroked his scarf – a hundred-thousand-million souls of different colours, each section separated by a stripe of grey. His fingers lingered on a certain group, squeezing them gently, before reminding himself that there were more monsters that needed his attention, too.

He felt himself frown as a soul began to fade, summoning it before him. The soft, smudged silhouette of a Snowdrake appeared before him – and he realised with soft eyes that it was very, very sad.

Cries chorused around him as he knelt before the smaller monster, wrapping his arms around them and squeezing them gently. Their sobs halted and they stared at him with wonder in their eyes.

“Do not worry, friend,” he said softly. “You will be alright.”

“But I won’t!” The Snowdrake cried, head hanging. “My father – he doesn’t find me funny! He… he doesn’t like me, I’m sure of it! I’m just… not good enough…”

He squeezed them again, eyes soft. “You are not worthless. You are NEVER worthless. And when you wake up, you’ll go out there, and you’ll SHOW HIM WHO’S BOSS!”

The Snowdrake smiled.

“NOW, WHO’S AWESOME?!”

“I-I’m awesome…”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU~!”

“I-I’M AWESOME!”

“YEAH! NYEH-HEH-HEH!” He grinned down at the small monster. They were waking up. “NOW! GO AND SHOW THEM YOUR AWESOMENESS!”

And suddenly, the void was silent.

The Snowdrake’s soul, now plump and full, settled in its spot around his neck. He smiled once more, before going back to stroking his scarf.

His fingers stopped on one soul – a small, fragile one. It thumped a tune he knew quite well – one that sang him to sleep long ago.

It nuzzled against his hand, and he laughed, petting the small thing with one finger. His eyes turned sad and fond, and he let out a whisper.

“Love you too, brother.”

That night, the Underground slept soundly.

Chapter 3: What I Hoped Would Be Impossible

Summary:

What do you call it when a skeleton isn't himself?

Sans-self.

(AKA: Sans is awkwardly terrifying and nobody knows why.)

Notes:

Sorry if Sans is a little OOC! I promise that's intentional!

(This is just based off my headcanon that Sans is a giant childish dork whenever he's happy - hence why he acts so childlike for most of this. I promise he's still Sans!)

I read a bunch of gory stuff before this (go check out Fonttale, it's amazingly gruesome) so sorry if it seems a little darker than the other chapters!

(Chapter title comes from the song Impossible ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NWdrO4BoCu8 ), which is funny, because I wrote it whilst listening to Echo ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQKGUgOfD8U ))

Chapter Text

“Howdy!”

Frisk refused to meet the flower’s gaze, instead rubbing one arm with their thumb gently. From the corner of their eye, they noticed Flowey’s face scrunch up in confusion.

“Don’tcha know it’s rude to ignore someone? Golly, and here I thought we were frie-“

“Stop it.”

Flowey froze, deflating slightly. His smile twitched with fear for just a moment, before he noticed the lack of dust on the child’s clothes.
“Stop what?”

“Pretending you don’t know him.” Frisk mumbled. “What is this, a game? A prank? Did you set this all up?”

Flowey’s smile shook, before completely disappearing into the strange mixture of a scowl and a frown that Frisk knew too well. His stem slouched slightly, reminding Frisk of the many many times they’d defeated him. Of the many many times he’d begged to die.

They didn’t like it when Flowey slouched.

“Sometimes I wish it was a game.” His voice was quiet, and sent a shiver up their spine. Flowey was never quiet. “Sometimes I hope Smiley Trashbag’s just getting one last zinger in. But I don’t always get what I want, do I?”

Frisk’s eyebrows creased in concern. This wasn’t like Flowey.

He let out a soft chuckle, fond and quiet. “Golly, you must be so confused. Ah, but nobody’s here to explain – guess little ol’ me will have to do.”

-0-0-0-0-0-

The exit from the ruins took more than a shove to open, this time – Flowey jostled it around a bit, until the gap was wide enough for them to barely slide through. The snow was up to their waist this time, and they couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of Sans crawling through it.

As they advanced, they took notice of the little changes they found – trees that grew a different shape, or leaves that were just a tad too spiky. They paused for a moment when they spotted the glistening red of some alien fruit hanging from a branch. Flowey slapped their hand away when they reached for it, half-screaming about it being poisonous.

A few moments later they caught him eating it whole. They decided to stop listening to Flowey’s advice.

They barely found the bridge beneath all the snow. For a moment they hesitated, turning and waiting for a shadow to follow them, a twig to snap, anything familiar – but all they were met with was darkness and snow.

As they sighed, their breath curled in the air before them, and Chara’s voice in the back of their head quietly commented on how similar it looked to dust. Ignoring them, they quickly turned on their heel-

-and came face-to-face with no other but Sans.

Shrieking, they stumbled backwards, landing ungracefully in the snow and shuddering as the cold whiteness wet their shorts and the backs of their legs. Sans giggled at them.

Sans. Giggled.

Now that they looked at him, he didn’t look too much like Sans at all – his usual slippers were replaced with dirty trainers with no laces. His jacket was almost grey with dirt and… were those Papyrus’ gloves…?

“human~” he almost sang. Sang? Sans doesn’t sing! “don’t you know how to greet a new pal?”

“Oh, shut up, Smiley.” Flowey spat, twisting to face him. “Don’t you know how to be a decent human being?”

“mmh, wouldn’t, petals,” Sans’ eyes narrowed as he glanced down at the soulless flower. “considerin’ ’m not a human.”

“The internet says otherwise.”

“what?”

“Nothing. Just help them up already.”

Sans’ face contorted in a way they never wanted to see again – skeletons don’t look pretty when they scrunch up their faces – and half-heartedly reached towards Frisk. “sorry, kiddo. ice didn’t snow i’d scare ya so badly.”

Frisk shot him a small smile, taking his hand and tugging themselves up. Sans very nearly tripped with the force, and they whispered a quiet apology.

“anyways, ’m sans. sans the skeleton.” He rocked on his heels, swaying his arms beside him almost childishly. “’m s’posed to be lookin’ for humans, but, y’know, i don’t really care ‘bout capturin’ anybody.”

Frisk waited for the next line, but it never came. He never mentioned his brother Papyrus, or how he was coming. He simply grabbed at Frisk’s hand, and pulled them behind him.

…Was he always this strong? It felt like their metacarpals were being crushed under the tips of his fingers.

He strutted right past his sentry station, arm swinging beside him – that was funny, he usually kept that one in his pocket – and down the path. They reached out to the save point, but he tugged their arm impatiently.

When Doggo peeked out, he teleported past. Where puzzles usually lay, the snow was clean and untouched.

But what struck them as unusual were the little snow-skeletons Lesser Dog had built.

“What’s that?” they mumbled, leaning towards it. Sans halted suddenly, turning to face them.

“seraph.” He replied, his usually-soft voice even softer. “they’re buildin’ the seraph.”

“Who’s the Seraph?”

“hope. well, that’s what i was taught.” Smiling fondly, he reached down and gently stroked the sculpture’s head – it shimmered with green magic and refused to break, as solid as steel. “some say integrity. some say kindness. some even determination.” Standing straight once more, the fond smile never left his face. “but i think he’s hope.”

“How can a person be hope?”

“he isn’t a person. he’s the seraph.”

“Mm, really?” Frisk leant down and squinted at the mini statue. After a moment’s hesitation, they decided to try something. “Well, I think Papyrus is much more fitting.”

Sans stiffened slightly. “papyrus?”

Twisting to meet his eyes, Frisk noted the tension in the air. “Yeah, Papyrus. Why?”

Sans’ soul flickered with something strange – fear? Longing? Sorrow? He couldn’t decide which, but it was there. His breath caught in his throat, and he refused to meet Frisk’s eyes.

“Sans? Sans, is there something wrong?”

He straightened up, smiling at them. “nothin’. nothin’ at all. it’s a very cool name.”

“Only the coolest.”

They continued in silence, Sans’ grip gentler now. The air was so thick Frisk could cut it with a knife.
It was tempting.

“I think Papyrus is a person.” they said softly, barely audible over the buzzing air. Flowey’s grip tightened on their shoulder. Sans tensed very slightly. “Just because he’s special, doesn’t mean he’s not a person. He must get scared and sad too, sometimes.”

Sans hummed slightly. “maybe.”

“After all, the Great Papyrus, as brave as he is, is still a person at heart! Or, uh, soul.”

“y-yeah.” The skeleton gently wiped the hot tears from his cheeks – why was he crying? They were saying good things – and continued walking, though he couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched.

-0-0-0-0-0-

What are they doing? ...Trying to remind him? Nyeheh... I wish I could thank them with my special thank-you-for-being-amazing spaghetti...

But alas, some things are just impossible.