A Tale of Consequences

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Chapter 1

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The knife fell.

It clattered against the floor of the judgement hall.

A sharp, echoing sound.

Metal against tile.

It rattled in his skull, the grating sound only broken by the human's harsh breathing. And they were still breathing, even after having a dozen magical projections impaled through their body.

Che. He'd missed the immediate kill. He must be more tired than he expected. But it didn't matter. With the way the blood was flowing into the cracks in the judgement hall floor, they wouldn't last long anyway.

He closed his eyes, bone rippling with magic reshaped by his emotions. Exhaling, dropping his shaking, skeletal hand, the blue glow ebbing away as he waited for the inevitable. For the slow ebbing feeling as the world shifted, twisted and molded by another's will. Yes. Reset it all.

Reset it all so he wouldn't have to remember anymore.

Reset it all so he could have his world back.

"If we're really friends…" The words sounded hollow, even to him. What kind of friends would do
that? "Don't come back."

"You...missed…"

…the human's voice. He'd never heard it before. As expected, it was accompanied by the same deja vu that had been plaguing him for...it felt like ever. Like he'd known it before. Very well. Even now, with it cracked with pain.

He opened his eyes, expecting to see the human struggling to their feet. Clutching the knife in shaking hand. Hah. Determination. What a load of—

…no. There they were, a pitiful pile of meat and blood, limp against the once clean floor. The human's soul flickered above their body, once a bright, beautiful red… now almost grey.

"Human…" Laughter was ringing in his voice even as he trembled. Bony fingers curling into fists where he'd habitually stuffed them into the pocket of his hoodie. "Just get it over with."

The body on the floor shook, head slowly turning. Gasps becoming quicker and more irregular. Still alive. Once Sans might have envied the tenacity. After twenty five times he just couldn't bring himself to care.

"you won't give up. I know that. You know that. We've done this song and dance too many times. At least make the right choice this time."

My brother.

Dirty brother killer.

"I—I'm sorry." The voice was a mere whisper between ragged breaths. The human's soul was flickering. Any moment now. ' 't.

Any moment now and it would all fall away from him. Memories fading like a waking dream as the world rewound itself, only leaving him with the faintest impressions that he'd been doing this all before.

But even knowing that...he could barely stand to listen to the pathetic lump of flesh dying on the floor.

So much killing. So much death. He'd lost papyrus to that demon. Had seen it in his dreams too often to count. He even knew this wasn't likely the end. It never was. He'd killed that kid twenty-fucking-five times before they'd given in to his mercy.

Even despite all that, he hated hearing a kid cry.

It took twenty minutes for the soul to finally shatter. He waited the entire time, it was the least he could do. The soul fading. Splintered. And shattered. He closed his eyes.

"If we're really friends...don't come back."

Sans' internal counter ticked up to 26 and he sighed. Of course they'd come back. They always did. "I guess that means we never really WERE friends, huh?"

That thought hurt him more than he expected it to. What about that photo? Was that all a lie too?

Raspy laughter bubbled up behind him.

"Oh you got me, partner." The kid giggled, coughing up blood. The tiny body shuddered, "Cheater cheater, did you forget our promise? No reset is a continue. An ending for an ending. This is still my turn."

They shuddered, soul pulsing with determination. Soul darkening from red to almost black.

There was a reason he was the Judge. He could see into a soul. Could feel the weight of their accumulated LV. And this kid…

Well. There were no words. He held out a hand as the kid struggled to their feet, smile stretched like a gaping wound, dark splotches drying against their chin. They groped for the knife, but Sans kicked it away, the worn gardening knife skittering across the judgement hall with a series of metallic scrapes. Too far to lunge, even if they could move reliably without keeling over.

Suddenly the kid threw back their head and laughed, "Fine! I'll play your game! We'll see who cracks first!"

A wet snap echoed through the judgement hall as bone impacted flesh. The human choked, slumped over the magical constructs piercing their chest. Red eyes met Sans' glowing blue one. And grinned.

The soul splintered into a dozen pieces-

"If we're really friends...don't come back."

The scripted words trailed off. Sans' shoulders slumped and he muttered, "Twenty Seven. Aren't you tired of this by now?"

His only answer was pained breathing. The red stain slowly creeped across the judgement hall floor.

He settled in to wait it out, but then the human spoke.

"I-I'm s-s-orry."

"It's too late for that, pal." He was tired. Sans slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "If you really cared about that, about…" him "You'd go back. You'd quit before you'd even started. You'd do something else, and leave us alone."

"I-I can't." The eyes that stared up at him through half-closed lids were brown. Empty. Resigned. "If…I go back…It won't stop."

The liquid slowly rolling down the human's face…wasn't blood.

"I…can't do this again."

"So you'd rather leave them dead? Just like that?" He couldn't even summon the energy to be angry. Not anymore. What was the point? He'd get mad and kill them and then they'd be right here again.

…nothing.

"Kiddo?" The moniker slipped out, sounding right even as he recoiled from the thought of lessening the emotional distance from this killer. The kid's soul flickered. It was almost invisible, a faint grey patch against the human's blood stained shirt. This wasn't right, the memory fragments told him. Human souls lingered after death. Everyone knew that. They could be shattered. But they didn't...

…fade.

He didn't think. He reached hesitantly for it. It faded between his fingers, leaving a faint warmth tingling an apology against the white bones.

...this wasn't in his notes. The implications were worrying though.

Determination. The will to live. To survive. This was the magic in a human's soul.

If that magic faded, could this be the last reset?

That thought chilled him to the bone.

He didn't want to live in a world like this.

Sans knelt down and grabbed the human's ruined shirt. He grunted, feeling for the human's soul. Searching. It was so faint he could barely tell it still existed, only the child's breathing proving to him that this wasn't a soulless husk.

... faintest flicker of a flame. A tiny pulse. Ping.

Cyan magic wrapped around the limp human, dragging them along with his hand. Up, off the ground. His left eye burned, blazing blue as he calculated the map coordinates and reached.

The judgement hall was empty.