Sans took a deep breath.

It had been a week since the incident, and even if he didn't want to, he knew that sooner or later he would have to go to the lab.

Grillby insisted it wasn't necessary; he could do it for him. But Sans was determined to face it on his own. I was his past, his father, his memories. He didn't need anyone to take care of it. Of course he understood Grillby's worry given the circumstances, but he believed all the same that he wouldn't be able to move on if he didn't do this by himself.

Sans didn't hate his father. He had every reason to, since in his short 13 years he had suffered more than any kid, or any person at all, should. But in some way his father had taken care of him; he'd never been short on food and in the last years his father had reduced a lot the level of pain of his experiments. He didn't take him to the lab anymore and most of the test were run in his bedroom, which left him quite comfortable to sleep off the pain. Sans thought it was because in some way his father felt some kind of affection towards him, too.

Yes, it was an unusual father-son relationship they had. But when your father creates you with the only purpose of serving as a way to experiment and develop his knowledge, it wasn't strange at all not to feel like a 'proper' son. "One gets used to it", Sans thought.

So, in a way, Sans loved his father, even a little bit. Besides, he was one of the few people he actually knew. He was only allowed to go to Grillby's to get food-since his father didn't want to leave the lab-and come back. He wasn't supposed to talk to anyone, and therefore people who knew he existed were few and far between; he was just someone they came across on their way, someone who didn't even ring a bell as to who he may be. But Sans was ok with it. One gets used to it.

With his life organized as it was back then, it came as a shock to him when Grillby, the only one who was aware of Sans' existence, called to his door to inform him of his father's death. He had died in one of his attempts to discover more, more than he should. This didn't surprise him. But his whole world was turned upside down; what would he do now? He was just a kid, and even if he took care of himself most of the time, how would he do it without his routine, without his father to boss him around?

He'd felt bad that relief filled him when he realized he wouldn't be subjected to more experiments; his creator had died and he could only think of that. After all he was his father and he should be suffering his loss, not rejoicing in it. But Sans had always been aware that what his father did to him wasn't right, although he wasn't allowed to tell anyone. Until then.

Despite the constant monotonous expression in Grillby's face, Sans could notice he was growing angrier every second as he continued to tell him what his father did to him during his experiments. His flames burned more intensely. He regretted ever talking; he hadn't wanted to in the first place, but Grillby had insisted he did, looking for an explanation to the messy house and the now notorious marks in Sans' bones.

Once he finished his story, Grillby had raged. But he couldn't kill a dead man. So he decided to offer Sans the option of living with him.

Sans trusted him, he knew him since he was little; the first time he had seen Grillby the latter had offered him ketchup, and Sans had looked at him confused. He didn't know what ketchup was back then. Since he had tried it he'd always asked Grillby for recommendations, and he'd always get the best food, delivered to him much faster than to the other clients. They had never been able to talk seriously, but Sans had always thought they shared some kind of bond.

However, he decided to stay at home. He would be alone, but at least he could walk around Snowdin when and however he wanted, meet new people, and be at Grillby's as long as he wanted to. Besides, he'd spent his whole life there. Losing his father and his home at the same time would be too much for him.

Grillby understood, as he expected to, and assured Sans that he would always be there for him for whatever he needed; he just needed to go to Grillby's, and he'd be waiting.

So his life had changed drastically in a second, but Sans was fine. He'd grieved his father, of course, but they'd never spent much time together to begin with, and when his daily share of pain was reduced to cero…Well, let's say that Sans couldn't bring himself to feel too bad about the whole thing.

But it did give him chills to go to the lab. He'd suffered a lot there. It was the only place he hadn't visited since Gaster-as everyone called him, though Sans had never known that was his actual name-died, but today he decided that it was time to go. He had to get over it. To move on. He couldn't be scared of a silly lab forever. Grillby told him that it was understandable being just a child, but Sans knew that he had matured way beyond any average 13-year-old kid. And he had to do this.

The lab was at the back of the house, so he took the keys and went out to the ever present blizzard of Snowdin. The cold didn't bother him, since he was always looking for an excuse to wear his jacket. It was the only one he owned, actually; one of the few things his father had given to him in the few years they were together, and his most valuable possession, however sad that might sound.

He stood in front of the door. His hands shook lightly, which made it more difficult for him to get the key in the lock. When he managed to do it, he unlocked the door and slowly opened it.

He poked his head in; the room was completely dark. He couldn't see or hear anything.

Taking a deep breath, he went inside and hurried to the place where he knew was the light switch. He was about to turn the lights on when he heard movement from one of the corners of the room, the one further to him. He stopped, alert.

"Who's there?"-he asked, his voice trembling despite his efforts to appear sure of himself. No one replied, but he heard someone moving in the darkness again. It seemed like they were…crawling?-"I know you're there. I'm gonna turn on the light."-he warned.

"Wait!"-he heard a little whimper. It sounded like it was…-"I'm still a little sleepy and the light will hurt my eyes."

…A little kid.

Apparently his father hid more things than just torture instruments in his lab.