He stood there, light glinting off his bleached cranium. A deathly blue glow glinted in his eyes as he watched Frisk stagger towards him, knife in hand. huh. a fighter.

She was covered in the dust of countless monsters, her clothing torn and wet with her own blood; it was a testament to the fights she'd entered and won. She'd killed Undyne and Asgore, 2 of the greatest fighters in Undertale. He felt a dark swell of admiration for her determination and skill but quashed it. she killed paps.

papyrus. His brave brother, his sweet brother who believed in love and kindness and the power of friendship – what had that brought him? Decapitation at the hands of the brat before him. did you hold back? were you hoping that Frisk was still there… somewhere? He blinked back tears. no time for that. i need to fight her.

"On days like this, kids like you…should be burning in hell."

Frisk charged towards him, knife in hand. She was determined, he'd give her that, but she was inexperienced and had no real skill with the knife. All she did was charge at him – he easily sidestepped. Papyrus had been taking it easy on her, stalling for time, hoping that she'd remember the better days.

He was stalling for time. Sans knew it. It wasn't because his ultimate move was draining – it was because he wanted her to remember. He wanted to hold her hand, to enjoy Toriel's butterscotch pies with her. He wanted to make her laugh as he piled the hotdogs on her head.

stop it. you're confusing different timelines. she's a

"-dirty brother killer"

Sans closed his eyes as he shot Frisk again with his Ghasterblasters. He focused on the tattered, ragged scarf in his hands and the taste of frozen spaghetti.

Frisk collapsed on the ground. Dead. But not for long. He knew what she could do; it was no real battle. She could reset any time she wanted and he was powerless to stop her.

He could not meet her glazed stare without seeing the sweet brown eyes that had gazed into his the day she had led them into the Overland.

oh, kiddo.

She'd reset again. He'd killed her at least 5 times, and she'd returned for more. Her shoulders looked heavy as she panted for breath. She wasn't looking too good.

He wasn't putting his all into this fight and he didn't know why. He had every reason to kill her.

His darker side craved her blood – he wanted to throw Frisk against the wall, disremember her, and destroy her for everything she'd done to the Underworld and his friends. He wanted to blast her over and over again for what she'd done to his innocent brother.

Yet when he lifted his arms for the killing blow, he couldn't do it.

He couldn't help but remember when they were friends. When they were sitting together in his room, playing video games and eating Papyrus' frozen spaghetti meals.

He remembered the girl he'd shared a Popsicle with one late balmy summer. In his mind's eye, he recalled the girl he gave his favorite jacket to one freezing winter morning. The wind had frozen his joints, but it worth it just for one glimpse of the rosy pink that spread across her cheeks.

He narrowly dodged another attack by the girl in front of him. He refused to call her Frisk. Was she even Frisk? She was so different from the girl he'd come to love. He resumed his gravity attacks with fervor, intent on destroying her – she's just a bad dream.

Yet, even as he attacked he observed how the girl froze momentarily.

He watched as she…she jittered. All this time she had been moving smoothly, her vicious intent apparent in the way she dodged and slashed at him.

Something was stopping her. Or was it someone?

oh, kiddo. what happened to you?

Quickly, he reassessed the girl in front of him. She was wearing Frisk's clothes, her smile, and her face – but she wasn't Frisk.

First of all, her eyes were decidedly wine red, not the brown eyes he had come to love.

Secondly – and San's could've slapped his skull off his spine – Frisk would never hurt anyone. She couldn't. She couldn't even bring herself to kill the spider in the bathtub.

If Sans had a face, it would've twisted into an appropriate anguished grimace.

Chara had done this to Frisk. Chara and Flowey, most likely. That damned flower. He cursed himself for not digging it up and destroying it earlier.

He let his tears slide down his cheekbones; it would easily pass for sweat. He clenched his jaw as he shot the girl again and again.

He turned away as the girl died again and again.

It was the first spring after they had emerged into the Overland.

Frisk was wearing a sundress.

She tugged on his arm. "Why are you wearing that ridiculous jacket in the spring? It's warm, you don't need it!"

He remembered smirking as he insinuated his…bareness under the plush of his blue jacket. "i'm bad to the bone, kiddo," he'd said, winking.

Even now he could recall the exact hue of the pink that diffused across her cheeks, highlighting her youthful beauty.

Even now he could recall the same warmth that had spread across his cheekbones, the sudden warm blue glow that emerged as he realized that she was no longer quite the small thing that had fallen into the Underland.

She had made him feel things he thought were impossible for a monster like him.

Another memory. He remembered her petulant frown. They were eating lunch together, hanging out – the phrase teens used nowadays. 18 and still single, he remembered saying in an attempt to break the silence.

"Yeah," she sighed.

"got your eye on anyone?" He asked. He'd laughed nervously, "i don't have my eye on anyone – i don't have eyes."

She'd stuttered.

She did have someone.

It felt as though he'd pierced by one of Undyne's spears. A weight was lodged in his stomach, worse than when he'd swallowed Papyrus' frozen spaghetti whole for a dare.

A chill ran up his spine as he watched her lips move soundlessly.

"so," he'd smirked in an effort to hide his feelings. "human or monster?"

She shook her head.

"C'mon." A fake but impossibly large skeletal smile stretched across his skull. "throw me a bone!"

Her beautiful chocolate eyes looked into his eye-sockets. "Monster."

"hmm…does the name have an 'A' in it?"

She nodded imperceptibly.

"does it…end in 'S'? like…Papyrus?"

She colored and ran from the stand to her house.

He teleported there in a blink. Magic was handy.

He remembered leaning in the doorway, a ketchup bottle pressed uncomfortably against his ribcage. He'd only managed to grab one before she'd run away. It would take time for her to reach home, however-

He'd mulled over the events in his head.

Why hadn't she been able to say Papyrus to him? Was she embarrassed? But there was nothing to be embarrassed about. She'd gone on a date with Papyrus before.

Frisk wasn't the shy kind – she regularly laughed at his 'bone-er' jokes. So what was it?

Alphys? Sans had problems believing Frisk had fallen for the scientist. Besides, she was with Undyne now.

Who else had a name that had an 'A' ended in 'S'?

think!

Frisk appeared in the clearing. She flinched when she saw the blue, hooded figure by the door, but continued marching.

i know.

The weight in his chest fell, replaced by light and happiness.

He remembered the swishing of the grass as she walked up to him, her lips firmly pressed into a thin line, emphasizing her disapproval at his constant badgering.

She was so…breathtaking. If he had lungs. Haha.

Sweat gathered in his palms.

"stop and listen for a sec, kiddo."

She glared at him. She was still angry. He could see it in her eyes.

"if it makes you feel better..." he leaned towards her. "i have someone too. i've liked her for a long time."

He heard her breath hitch and he prayed that he hadn't gotten it wrong.

"she's the sweetest human i've ever known. i may have hurt her feelings today. i hope she'll forgive me."

He could feel his face heating up with a familiar blue glow.

"i think…she likes me too"

She was blushing behind the sleeves of her sweater.

"so Frisk".

She looked up, confused.

"i…"

"What?"

"a-door ya." He swung the door open for her and winked.

He was about to stride off, looking cool, when suddenly she grabbed him by his jacket hood. Her face collided with his as she placed her lips where his would be.

Sans rubbed his cranium, embarrassed. "haha, kiddo. you can't kiss me, i don't have lips."

He remembered her cheeky smile as she whispered, "I'm determined to. I'll practice for as long as it takes."

He hadn't felt this happy in a long time.

she's back.

Sans had killed her 30 times. She refused to stay down. He could only hope that the Frisk inside would come out, that it wasn't too late for a happy ending.

The girl staggered towards him, bleeding out. He'd cut her arms and her legs. She'd die soon, again. But for now she was still lunging with the knife.

He didn't want to keep fighting. He didn't want to have to watch this girl who looked awfully similar to Frisk die over and over again by his hands.

The girl released the knife and collapsed to her knees.

"…Sans…" the girl croaked.

The voice tugged at his heartstrings.

"…Sans…I don't want to kill anymore."

He couldn't move. He watched as the girl on the floor stirred weakly, pleading to him in Frisk's voice.

"Please end this." Her voice began to crack as she shook heavily, tears streaming down her face.

"frisk?"

"Kill me now, while I've got control. I can't stop her." Frisk choked as she struggled vehemently against her unseen assailant.

Sans ran to her and cradled her in his arms. "don't worry. i can fix this."

"You can't Sans. You can't fix this anymore. I need to die. Quick, before…"

"i know kiddo."

Sans held her close in a tight embrace. "Sans…I'm so sorry for everything I've done to you."

Sans stroked her sweat-matted hair. "close your eyes."

Frisk breathed into his ketchup-y jacket.

Sans' rib bones pierced through her body. "this'll be over quickly" he promised.

He held on to her tightly as she writhed in pain. She was drifting away, he knew. And this time she wouldn't come back.

"knock knock," he whispered.

"Who's there?" she answered weakly.

"olive"

"Sans," she smiled. "Olive you too."

If Sans had a heart, it would've broken. Sans slumped over and cried, cried and cried like he never had before, over her prone form.

There was no winning this game. No sweet victory, no blissful rest. Only blood and tears, death and decay.