"ya ready?"
His permi-grin is startling, to say the least. Despite your DETERMINATION, it's been unnerving you, and you chastise yourself for letting something so minor catch you off guard. But regardless, you can't stop noticing as he pings your SOUL and throws you across the room he's smiling the whole time, though you know by the color of his eye and the hard set of his jaw he's anything but. You wonder with delicious irony how that works. He can open his mouth to eat hotdogs and drown himself in ketchup, but he can't will his cheekbones down. You make a point to bring that up, next time you get the chance to chat.
Now there's a bit of a lull. He's standing in front of you, sweating and panting, but looks a hell of a lot better than your bruised shoulders and matted hair. You're bleeding on your head and you think one of your ankles is broken, but your HP is reasonable this late in the game and you can still ride out the attacks you know are coming. Your DETERMINATION flares. You've killed worse, and you'll kill more to come.
You brandish the knife.
"course you're not," he says. You gather DETERMINATION, brandishing the knife, and sprint, your feet ready to jump or dodge at any moment. But he's not moving. With a damnable grin, his makes a mock finger gun at you.
"k-chk-"
You realize too late and try to dodge, but you know he's got you this time.
"-bang."
Clever, you think.
His finger gun flicks up, his eye flares into a yellow slit, and a beam of blue energy whips out and slams into you. It certainly feels like a bullet, and it hurdles you into a wall hard enough that you leave a sizable dent in the stone and your skull, which you feel cave in. Internally, you see your HP shudder and blink to zero, and your soul cracks into two neat halves.
Damn you.
He hurdles you into the air and slams you into the ceiling, causing the grip on the knife to fail for a moment. You catch it as he lowers you and prepare for the second impact, but seconds pass. You wonder if you're dead already, but your chest hurts and you can feel your leg cry out in pulses. You open your eyes. You're still in midair, your limbs weighted and movement restricted, and you pause in curiosity. You wonder if he'll try to take the knife from your hands. DETERMINATION fills you. Slam, break, shoot and stab all he likes, he'll never pull it from your hands. You know that for a fact. You can stand many things, but you cannot stand dying by your own blade.
But instead, to your slight relief, he plummets you to the ground and freezes you at his height, spinning so that you're face to face. His permi-grin is mirthless and his eye is a cold, merciless flame, and
I'm so sorry I'm so
you involuntarily feel your sins crawl on your back. But your DETERMINATION grounds you, and you let it show without restraint.
"i gotta wonder if anything's in there," he says, more to himself. He inches you closer to his face and the eye searches you. Your knife hand twitches, but his eye flares and holds you back. You feel your insides squirm, which irritates you, and you turn the internal knife to yourself and beat the discomfort until it silences.
Not me
You suppose he's mocking you, or trying to unnerve you, and your DETERMINATION flares. If you could open your mouth, which you try and fail to, you would tell him to get it over with, or say something about Papyrus. You know from past experience it always goaded something from him.
His fingers spin and you're upside down. He tilts his head, but it's far from jesting. "anybody lookin' out of there?"
I'm here I'm here I'm here I'm here I'm here
You feel his gaze on your every movement. You can taste his hate, but the curiosity is another thing that sets you off. This is obviously a mockery now, but you prefer the kind that ends with a CONTINUE than a staring contest with some damnable skeleton that should've been dead a long time ago.
Please
It dawns on you with satisfaction, then, what he's looking for, and your DETERMINATION flares stronger. You glare straight at him and with the barest of movement smile, your body squirming and the knife hand inching forward. Your face contorts into the one Papyrus once commented on, the one that made Undyne's skin crawl.
His face falters ever so, his grin slips just a little.
"nah, just a dirty brother killer." His eye dilates.
You both remain like that for a moment before his arm flashes and darts up, and you're jerked to the ceiling where your HP shudders and falls. You dash to the walls and the pillars and the floor with an erratic movement that surely will kill you, but your smile remains even as the last of your HP dies and the familiar sense of time running backwards hits you.
At one point you try something new. Despite your ample HP and DETERMINATION, you wonder if in the battle something may slip, which, you know, could spell your death again. You know patience, (you suppose, in fact, if anything could be the physical incarnation of patience it would be you) and the long game, but you are not limitless. The amount of CONTINUEs have been lost to you, but the number is daunting, and you feel a slight tremor as you stand. Another array of bones explode up from the floor, breaking your train of thought, and you dodge perfectly, but the idea wriggles again as you come to land. To your displeasure, you admit shamefully that you don't like the idea of your skull caving in again, and you are, despite all your fancy, not the incarnation of patience. Time has no distinction between the CONTINUEs. One second you die with a shattered ribcage, and the next you're standing at full HP. You don't feel any pain, but you remember it very clearly, and it results in you feeling disconnected, and even more, your DETERMINATION faltered.
It couldn't hurt, you decide, and if all else fails you can CONTINUE. You turn to face him, seeing him brace for the next attack. Inside you squirm, but you don't try and silence it this time. Instead, you let it leak through in controlled amounts, and in a magnificent second the knife drops and your face falls, tears freely streaking down your face. Your voice tremors as you try to speak and a sob comes out instead.
His attack stops. The eye is still burning and the permi-grin remains utterly placid, but he stops.
You feel yourself want to step forward and you allow that. An arm reaches forward.
"S-sans..."
Your voice is awkward to your ears. You never talked much to begin with, and doing so now was a bit of a struggle. Your vision is blurred from all the tears, but you see his form is motionless.
"I'm so sorry...I'm...I didn't..." You sob.
"come to the light now, have ya?"
From your left you see a wall of blue swing forward and slam into you, but it isn't as forceful as before and simply knocks you down. Your DETERMINATION falters for the barest of moments, but you resolve it's a test and push yourself up, your body shaking from sobs. He remains placid, his single eye following your pathetic steps.
"Sorry...I'm...I didn't mean t-to, it was an mistake...it's-it's..."
"i'm touched, honestly."
A sword bears down on you and reluctantly you allow it to strike your arm, and, more importantly, your HP. You're close now, closer than you expected to get. Ten steps and you'd reach him. Damn, if you hadn't dropped that knife. You see his eye burn a little brighter, his grin utterly impenetrable.
"It's...it's not me...it's..."
Something bursts through your chest and lifts you off your feet. You look down. A bone, as blue as the open sky you know he's never seen, is jutting from the floor and into your chest, and you know it's gone through it too. Blood begins to trickle down it and and your cough is flecked with red. You look up. He is still as placid as before, except he's sweating like a pig. Damn you, you think, but you're partially grateful that he'd done something before you'd said something really stupid. You don't try to hold back the surprised look on your face, and your insides squirm.
But your DETERMINATION is strong, even as your HP drains to nothing. You let the tears fall freely as the dark overtakes you, and you sob.
"S-sans...why...?" Your words are choked with blood.
"come on, pal,"
Something impales you again, but at this point your lack of HP leaves you immune to the pain.
"S-sans..."
"contrary to popular belief..."
Another bone juts into you.
"I-I-I'm..."
"..i'm not a fan of bad jokes."
How many pierced into you you couldn't tell, and at this point your HP is a second away from empty. But your DETERMINATION is ever so strong. You're angry, of course, that it had been a waste of a CONTINUE, and even more so that you're having a harder time than expected holding it back, and it takes it all to keep you from completely breaking down when you look up to see him sweating, his eye yellow, his arm still in the upward motion.
"...sorry."
You swing the knife forward as you jump, and, as you expected, he dodges. This time he slaps your back as you sail past him, but it's charged with a force that ends up careening you to the other side of the hall. You stand. He turns around and three Gaster Blasters form behind him.
"having fun yet?"
Beams of sickly blue burst from their mouths and you sprint to the right, but one of them hits you and you crash to the floor with a strangled cry. Instinct screams at you to jump up as you feel the floor tingle, so you roll as you feel bones burst from the floor, barley grazing you. But before you can stand up you ping and then rip into the air and slam into a pillar. Your leg breaks and an internal check of HP shows it glaringly low, and your stock of food, to your displeasure, is used up already.
You see the outcome already, and you're sure he does too.
When you fall to the floor and lay still long enough to know he won't attack immediately, you stand up, but your leg gives, so you resort to kneeling.
A bone appears to his side, aimed straight at you.
"give up kid,"
The bone burst into blue flames.
"and try not to come back."
"Auugh!"
You manage to get yourself into a crouch before he throws it, and he falters.
Your stomach is on fire, but your DETERMINATION pulls you through, and you manage to lean against the pillar and get yourself into a relative standing position. You feel the blood trickle down your leg and puddle at your feet, but you're sure he can see it. Plunged hilt-deep into your stomach is the knife, nestled like a snake's tooth. You limp towards him.
"I am, Sans," you say, your voice shaking from the pain, but your DETERMINATION keeps you on your feet. "Are you?" With great effort, you pull the knife out. Blood dribbles from your mouth. "Is this fun...for you?" Your steps are heavy. His face, despite the permi-grin, betrays nothing, but a fine sheet of sweat trickles down his forehead.
Your HP is draining quicker now, but you're close to him. You manage if you keep the pace up, you could land a swing on him and eat whatever is left in your pocket. "This is what you want...right? You...hate me." No, you won't be able to do it, you admit bitterly. You drop the knife, but in a burst of DETERMINATION you stand straight and hold your arms out wide, beckoning. "Happy?" you ask, and your HP takes a terrifying drop. "I made your job...easier. Ha...haha...haaaaa..."
You swear, just before your eyes close, that he leaned forward ever so slightly.
He's SPARING you.
You have a hard time believing it.
You brandish the knife. He stands there, face grinning and sweat running down his face, his breath haggard. No Gaster Blasters or bone spikes appear. You take a step forward, and he doesn't move. You're cautious. This is new. And impossible. You've cut his brother down, his friends down, and you know he loathes you greater than anything he's ever loathed in his sad little life. You herald the end of the world, you, as Undyne put it, stand in the way of everybody's happiness. There is no such thing as SPARING for him.
"just lay down your weapon, and..."
You're careful to keep the confusion from your face. You fiddle with the knife, and take a slight step.
No bones explode into your chest.
You wonder if he's flickering between timelines. It's possible, you suppose, if you add the exhaustion and battle fatigue. You've never seen it, but you don't doubt there's a chance he's talking to with someone of lesser DETERMINATION. You take another hesitant step forward, but he makes no move.
He's closed his eyes. "well, my job will be a lot easier."
He opens his eyes and they're back to their friendly pricks of white, the demonic blue and yellow smothered. You can't tell by his face what the truth is. The grin is indiscernible. Your mind's eye checks him.
SANS 1 ATK 1 DEF
The easiest enemy.
Can only deal 1 damage.
Can't keep dodging forever.
Keep attacking.
Which you could do. Your food is spent, though, and your HP is low. You know you could continue, and you know he's as spent as you. He's a dead man walking, you know for certain, and the time is coming, but temptation is as strong as the DETERMINATION, and you know you can always CONTINUE. Perhaps, if all else fails, this is a weakness you can exploit later.
So you straighten, and stare at him. The knife hangs by your side, limp.
He closes his eyes.
"you're sparing me?"
You're silent.
His open his eyes, and you detect that there's something more genuine to his smile. Or perhaps that's mockery. Relief washes through him like the sweat on his brow. "finally." He looks at you and you don't believe a drop of the sympathy in his eyes. "buddy. pal. i know how hard it must be to make that choice. to go back on everything you've worked up to. i want you to know..."
Oh, this is a howl, you think. An idiot could see past this. You resist the urge to tighten your grip. You're going to have too much find cutting his soul in half when this is done.
"i won't let it go to waste."
If you had lesser sense, you would chuckle.
He's silent for a moment, and then his arms open.
"c'more, pal."
You walk forward, steps slow, and the sound echoes. His grin is the widest you've seen it yet, a fine sheet of sweat on his brow. You walk the closest you have ever gotten to him, close enough for him to hug you.
Which he does, right as you start to raise the knife arm. A bear hug devoid of any affection, a hug meant to hold you in place. His jacket is warm and stuffy and smothers your face and you curse yourself. Damn damn damn. Should've seen it quicker.
Panic. You feel him lift you up and you squirm to move the knife, but he lifts you high over his shoulder and spins, and you see in your mind what's coming next. You hear them burst from the floor and he slams you down, your body impaling on multiple bone spikes. You stifle a shout, and the knife clatters from your hand. Blood coughs from your punctured lungs.
You stare at him.
"geeetttttt dunked on," he says mirthlessly, standing over you. His eye reverts to it's shimmering blue as your HP drains into nothingness and pained grunts rush out of you as your lungs process the bones protruding in them.
Damn you.
"if we're really friends..."
You glare, and he blinks. His eyes have returned to normal, and you think he looks remorseful. God, you think as you die, you're going to kill him.
...you won't come back."
Another wave of Gaster Blasters barrels towards you, forcing you to do a half-spin, half-jump to get away from it, but it nicks your arm and your HP shudders. You land. He's close to you, relatively.
There's a lull in the fight now. You're both panting, blood trickling from your arm. Worse off than him, you suppose, but his grin seems strained and there's a wince in his eyes. You search your memories, as you often do, for something that could help you. Physical ferocity is one thing, but emotional manipulation has helped you in the past. He is not invincible, you have come to learn. You've aggravated him in the past, gotten him sloppy, nicked the jacket once or twice. Never more than that, but there were close calls. It just takes a little...push.
A particular memory surfaces, and you fight the impulse to smirk. You straighten and giggle with an impish smile, fiddling with the knife. You have, until this point, kept your face placid, not only due to concentration but also a tactic to keep him unnerved, and you see something in his unchangeable grin shift.
"'Wowie", Sans!" you exclaim, your voice high and peppy and awkward, breaking at the end. In all the time you've spoken it's never come out smooth. "I guess you're sans a brother now, huh?"
Silence.
His left eye dims to a yellow prick and your spine crawls. You can taste the utter hatred pulse from him and you bounce on your feet, twirling the knife. But you've caught him off guard, too, something you don't do much, and you push a little further.
"Oh, it looks like that joke really brothers you!" you burst out, your tone mocking, waving the knife in jesting gestures. "Hahaha-"
In the passing of a second you dart forward mid-laugh, his eyes shifting from fury to confusion to panic in a burst of blue. You swing the knife forward and he barley dodges you, the knife hitching the jacket, and you feel him frantically ping you into the air and smash you into the nearest wall, your HP dropping to dangerous levels. The force is harder than usual, the precision more direct, and you giggle again as you fish out your only Legendary Hero and devour it.
"-hahaha! It's funny because I murdered-"
You jump out of the way of a hail of bones and a trio of Gaster Blasters which stings the hairs on your skin.
"-your brother, the most-"
The floor glows red and you barrel roll out of the way. You feel a shadow over you as you kneel to stand, and look up. His eye is a menacing point of cold blue, his grin stretched to the edges of his face. You watch him pull his left hand out of his jacket and his eye flares as a pinwheel of bones, sharpened to the ends, materializes at his palm. It begins to spin, until he's made something of a saw.
His other hand shoots out and you're pinged into the air to be pinned to the ceiling. You struggle, but his arm pushes up and you start to feel the force compress your lungs. This is new, you think. This is very new. Still, you keep the smile. The results are better than you could've imagine.
You push the last words out, and now you're forced to shouting. "-important thing in your whole sad, pathetic life!"
The last word echoes and you follow it with a maniacal laughter. Far below you, his eye glares and his bone saw whirrs. He glances at it, and then back to you. Then he moves his hand under you, and the saw tilts up. If you were of lesser DETERMINATION, you would be paralyzed with fear, but you are not lesser, and your grin is as stretched as his. Oh yes, this is very new. Inside you something squirms and you kick it down, letting an alien horror fill you that does nothing as you see him swing his arm down and you plummet.
i've caught the Undertale fever, so here's a to-be-updated string of one-shots mostly revolving around Sans. be warned. most are sad. little is happy. they go out of order depending on what hits me. some inspiration is taken from fanart, but sadly by the time i finish these i have to dive through pages of tumblr blogs, which takes up time i could be spending writing (and we don't want that now do we). but if you know the art, hey, then props to the artist. they're half the fandom. without them i wouldn't get the inspiration i needed to write this stuff.
remember: reviews = happy author = quicker updates
