It's more or less an accident that he drops the attack early, halfway between wanting to wipe the floor with the brother-murdering little freak and something about his present state of being that's keyed up and over-energized in a way that he's usually not; the reason for which he doesn't have the time to figure out right now.

He figures this is something he's done before because when he tries it, they make a good effort to scramble out of the way but instead, he is the one rewarded with a hateful frozen death mask.

Then, he's definitely sure they've got his number, how many times has it been? He's guessing about three as he can see them poised and ready as if they already know what he's going to pull.

So it begins.

Whatever the weird spike of energy he had to begin with is, it's wearing down now and he's carefully watching his patterns and their reactions every time he cleanly dodges another swipe.

They're figuring out all his tricks, little by little, one by one, and he knows they will try and try and try until he just can't take anymore. He has a few tricks left up his sleeve yet though. He waits, waits until they're almost at the end of their rope, almost dead... and then, holding his arms out to them in a parody of his brother that makes his SOUL pulse with a sadness and rage he squashes down, paints a lie of a true smile on his face, eyes tired.

"C'mon kid, just let's put all this behind us. "

There's a long hold of a pause.

The knife drops.

The bone attack falls on the surprisingly frail and defenseless form like a hot knife through butter. Blood splatters, the body slides slowly down them.

"GEEEET DUNKED ON!"

He's teleporting across the room, stuffing the soul into his coat and rifling their bag for whatever leftover monster food he can get into his mouth, nearly choking in haste (the extra spike of energy he supposes) before the bag will reset with them and the awful moment his memories go fuzzy and black and he finds himself standing there again piecing the puzzle together over again and again all the while inching closer and closer to certain failure.

Or that's how he was imagining it...for awhile.

He was left there however, panting returning to normal intake of air, sweat dripping and then cooling on his brow, stray crumbs and food drying to crust on his cheeks, tense pose dropping from a predatory crouch to one knee and then, finally, inertia setting in. Not to mention one hell of a 'magic hangover-indigestion' hybrid as his body began to wonder why he'd done all that to it when there wasn't any danger to speak of.

Finally, he just lay down to ease the ache in his side with his eyes drooping shut to drift off right there in a puddle of human remains and debris.

"Well, howdy there, Smi-oops, just Trashbag now. Or should you be just Trash? Because well you know, trash bags are generally around to make the landscape tidier."

Sans fumbled awake, trying not to make a show of how badly disoriented he was. "So I should just call you 'Shit' now because you both live in and eat it?"

Not his best comeback ever but it gave him a moment to gather himself, realization dawning that he was still in the Judgement Hall, sleeping next to a human body half-set with rigor mortis and hiding a soul under his hoodie while passed out on the floor in a total state. Trash? Actually pretty accurate. Also pretty ironic as for all the slobbiness Papyrus had (used to) berate him for, at least he'd never see THIS.

"Aw gee, did Trashbag forget how to take a joke as well as smile? Oh gosh friend, next you'll be telling me that you forgot how to laugh too. I'll be glad to help you out there. It kind of goes like this: 'Nyeh-heh-...'"

Flowey was not nearly as stupid as he was mean. He pulled himself into a crack in the tiles before finishing his sentence, the resulting attack bouncing the dead body high into the air and decimating what was left of the Judgement Hall floor.

"...Heh." Flowey's voice echoed away, one final jab as he fled the scene, sniggering all the way into the distance.

While Sans would have loved nothing more than to have turned the weed to mulch, the fact that he could still react that strongly to something - especially Papyrus - was heartening to say the least. The very, absolute least.

Right now? He didn't have a damn clue as to how to proceed otherwise. He hadn't been expecting to win. Now that he had, what the hell was he supposed to do?

Flowey took delight in kicking Sans when he was down and to those ends, Sans could surmise that the two of them were likely on the same page in some way when it came to what he was presently calling 'resets'. So either Flowey did not know what he had with him or had enough doubts to not call him out on it. He was willing to bet more money on the later than the former.

Hell, he hadn't been sure this thing was a human when he first encountered it. Maybe it was something that looked a hell of a lot like one, much like an animal that used a similar appearance to fool its prey. Or maybe EXACTLY like that as a simile. Best not to cause even more damage by bringing it near the other souls.

He hoped Alphys and Asgore could take care of what was left a while longer, if either was still capable of...well, one disaster at a time.

Sans skipped from Sentry station to Sentry station before finally phasing into Snowdin with a hiss of energy, right outside his front door. Taking a steadying breath and striding in, he headed straight for the kitchen. There was another pause before removing a container of spaghetti out of the fridge and opening it over the trash but after a moment checking under the sink instead.

The annoying dog was still under there, its tail tucked underneath it. "Hey...sorry. This is it. Better go find someone else to mooch off of if you can." he scooped the spaghetti into an unceremonious pile.

The canine looked up at him with limpid eyes and inched forward. It was still obviously going to eat the free food but seemed to understand without verbal communication that his beloved playmate and favourite pickpocket mark wasn't coming back. Sans shut the door and plunked the soul into the now empty container, giving a half-hearted triumphantly cruel grin at the fact that he had not washed it first. Let the beast sit in rancid spaghetti juice in his shed for a bit.

It was there he went next. The room was his last sanctuary against Flowey so much the safest place. He unceremoniously deposited the now red-glowing tupperware atop a pile of papers and then, well, one last thing to do at the moment.

This would be the hardest. So hard that he didn't bother to forgo the stairs, choosing instead to take them as slowly as possible, wanting to prolong the effort. He arrived at Papyrus' door, remembering this brother's insistence about the setup of their rooms.

"IF YOU WILL INSIST ON NOT TRAINING BROTHER, THEN YOU MUST TAKE THE FURTHEST DOOR SO THAT IF THERE IS AN INTRUDER, I THE GREAT PAPYRUS CAN PROTECT THE STRONGHOLD! BY WHICH I MEAN OUR HOUSE!".

He even kept the box of his bone attacks by the door, and that's what Sans grabbed first. He knew he'd need them again before this was over. Or even if he didn't, the sentimental value of his attack patterns was maybe what he was after. He could...celebrate his birthday.

And there it was, nothing left to do but scan the room for anything else he wanted to take. He would not be coming back.

After a moment he decided on a few of his favourite books (fluffy bunny and a couple by some human author Paps liked called 'Cliff') as well as the scarf, which he wound around his own neck.

The action figures remained where they were as a shrine. As one final afterthought he grabbed the one with the large sword. He'd give it to Alphys if she wanted it, to remind her of Undyne.

With that, he warped to his front door, turning one last time and whispering. "Hey, Paps. I'm going to Grillby's. Want anything?"

Sans knew he should have carried on to New Home almost immediately but couldn't face what he might find. Ironic that for all he had wanted to escape the timeline, now that he had, he didn't want to find out what the unknown held in store.

Maybe they were waiting for him to show up with the last soul or maybe they had thought him dead with the rest who had tried to take a stand. It would be a nice surprise for them when he showed up, maybe it would be nice to be around others, but for the moment he didn't want to hear their sympathetic moans and condolences either.

Not to mention, he also might not have survived another shortcut. He was painfully low on magic. and it was either finding something here or going back inside and nibbling on some dog residue.

Neither actually sounded appealing.

The bar was dark and a bit dusty but at least it wasn't the dust of the dead. Sans noted just how much of the light in the place had come from Grillby himself, which made him consider using his own magic to see by. That idea was squashed as his hunger reminded him of how low he already was and besides, for that matter, even though safe enough in a shop, he still wasn't interested in attracting attention from friend or foe.

Walking around behind the counter, he deposited a small handful of gold in the til. The whatever-it-was couldn't have harmed anyone in a shop but as it wasn't common knowledge, the terrified requests of families who ran establishments not to hurt their innocent families and to take their money and possessions had been heartbreaking. He owed Grillby a lot more than that for more or less feeding him for free over...how many 'resets'? He could make an educated guess but he still wanted to eat without throwing up.

He rifled through the cupboards for anything that hadn't gone bad that he wouldn't have to cook himself. Sans could follow a recipe well enough if he needed to but in spite of being a scientist, he was a worse chef than Papyrus (had been) when it came to inventing his own concoctions. Hell, he doubted he could make Temmie much work cutting up all that confetti.

He halted his thought process. All that 'no work' stuff. It was going to have to stop right now. It had been what had gotten him here and it would only continue to stagnate him now.

There was some cheese and some bread that had likely survived due to the lowered temperature in the bar and he made a few cheese sandwiches that were only palatable by drowning them in a mess of ketchup. He stowed a few bottles in with Papyrus' bone attacks and books and the figurine, reminding himself to stop by his hotdog stands for extra stock...or maybe storage.

"Well Papyrus." He raised his bottle up to the roof. "This here? This is why y' listen to your big bro. This is what hard work gets you. This is what bein' a hero looks like. I've saved our world, I've saved the human world...and countless others besides. An' what does it get me? Drinkin' stolen booze while hiding alone under a table in an abandoned bar."

He swigged from the bottle, spluttering it out of his nose as a wave of hysterical laughter hit him. He couldn't stop it, slumping against the back cupboards and chortling like he'd heard the best joke in the world until his sides ached and he was once again falling asleep.

He had no way of telling how long he'd been there, just that the fact that he was there would suggest that it was still this wretched timeline. It couldn't have been too long but he'd noticed some of the bread had turned to dust. He brushed it away and took stock of the situation. The food wouldn't last much longer which was motivation to keep going. He made a few more bone dry ( that was almost a pun which wasn't a bad sign) cheese sandwiches and forced them down best he could. It certainly wasn't the same as a nice meal of any kind but he was pretty sure a few shortcuts would take him to Hotland in short order.

Time to go.

With the core turned off due to a lack of coolant from Snowdin, Hotland was like a sauna. He stayed just long enough to max out his stock from the Sentry station and glad to see some hotdogs had survived. He ate two even though his HP was maxed out, just to get the taste of dust-riddled cheese sandwich out of his mouth.

He was happier than he'd ever been to see New Home, for about five seconds.

"SANS!" It was an Ice Cap. He couldn't remember its name but for something that had obviously spent a lot of time trying to get someone to notice him, he was certainly doing the best job of his life as he was almost instantly accosted by a wave (it was actually a pitiful little group but after so much isolation it felt like a wave) coming at him at once.

He had the swooping sensation of being picked up and for a second his heart leapt. It didn't quite falter as he realized who it actually was. Next best thing, really.

"Aw...hey Grillbz, I um...paid my tab." He didn't even mind when he started to sweat again, his clothes uncomfortable but his old friend paid him one last service, whisking him away from the mourners on the grounds of finding him a place among the refugees.

"So...Alphys and Asgore?" he began, trying to make good on his new 'no procrastination' leaf.

"Are going to be wanting to see you as soon as they can."

Sans nodded grimly. "Right."