Papyrus growled under his breath as he stormed down the path from Snowdin, puffs of magically heated breath spewing past his fang-like teeth in curling wisps. A younger version of himself would have laughed at this, playfully dubbing it 'dragons breath' as he huffed and snarled through the snow. That same playfulness had been tempered into something much more keen and dark in the years of his life here, curling and twisting into an ever deepening sadism. The world was cruel. The living had to be crueler. That was the way you survived. The dark foreboding of this credo tingled in every one of his bones like magic and left a bitter taste in his mouth. A taste like dust and dying. He enjoyed it. It made him feel secure. He knew in a world as cruel as this, he was one of the survivors.

His brother, however, was not. And that was why he was out here now as opposed to waiting out the bitter cold of the Snowdin evening in the relative warmth of his own home. Not that the cold rightly bothered him. Smothered in armor and stripped of any of the messy organs that froze or shivered in this weather, he could feel self-assured and comfortable no matter how the temperature dipped. On the coldest nights when the very air seemed to freeze, he might wonder faintly that his soul would get too cold, his bones a bit more brittle. But he wasn't going to worry about that, because Papyrus had no intention of being caught in the bitter cold and dark over something as stupid as looking for Sans.

He had resigned himself to one evening of search. One. But it was the lazy bone's own fault if he fell asleep in the snow and froze his fragile little soul to pieces. Yes, that fragile soul that had never once been strong enough to house more than a single hit point. His brother could say all he wanted about being adept with magic, he could lord those blasters of his above the rest of the monster world and leave a few of the weaker ones shaking in their sight. But Papyrus knew Sans' true weakness lay in his lack of stamina and pitiful vitality. And he seethed in bitter rage and worry now that his brother was late coming home.

Worry. That twisted up nauseous feeling that even the Great and Terrible Papyrus couldn't find it in him to ignore. It was an uncomfortable, unforgiving and completely irrational feeling that Papyrus hated with every ounce and fiber of his magically infused body. He hated it to death, to dust even. The only monster in this twisted up world Papyrus ever worried about was Sans. And he resented his brother for it, oh did he ever. He went out of his way to make that useless slob's every day a living hell just to get even, and then worried himself sick even still when the bag of bones stayed out too late drinking or missed the ferry back into town to avoid being mocked by Papyrus' presence. And then Papyrus hated him more, and the cycle started all over again.

Honestly, he didn't even know why he bothered.

Papyrus gave an angry growl and stomped down unnecessarily hard on a branch as he passed it, snapping it in half with a sickening crunch. He imagined if Sans' bones would make the same noise if he broke them, nonexistent stomach squirming when he reminded himself that Sans only had a single HP, and such violence was impossible without dusting the useless wretch. That was probably the most annoying thing of all about Sans. Because he kept himself in such a miserable state, Papyrus practically had to tiptoe around him to make sure he wasn't killed by something meaningless. Like being shoved too hard against a wall during an angry fight, or a poorly timed dodge of something thrown at him. Or even - Asgore forbid - something even stupider like a branch falling on him while he was walking or tripping and falling too hard against one of the ice patches that littered Snowdin like a minefield.

Papyrus ground his teeth angrily, trying to stomp down that worming feeling of worry as it slid around where his stomach would be. The entire situation was infuriating. Almost maddening. If Sans just took better care of himself Papyrus wouldn't even have to resent him. Have to worry about that miserable excuse for a monster.

Papyrus was so enraptured by his own bitter thoughts he didn't realize he'd passed his brother's post until the Ruin doors came into view. The armored skeleton abruptly stopped walking, a snarling grimace twisting his features. He harumphed a disgruntled sigh, annoyed at his own carelessness. That clawing worry rumbled hungrily in his chest as he turned to backtrack. Sans hadn't stopped him as he'd walked past.

Papyrus shrugged off the thought - of course the lazy bones was probably asleep. Probably slouched over behind his post or maybe even thinking clearly enough for once to hide before falling asleep so no monsters would take advantage of his vulnerability. That was why he hadn't noticed his idiot brother as he passed. And if not, it was certainly why the worthless pile of bonemeal hadn't acknowledged his passing. Now was not the time for irrationality. The sun was getting lower, the forest contorting into sickly and grimacing shades of blood and bracken. There was a tingle in his soul that told him the temperature was dropping, an extra bite to the frost in his breath.

He needed to get this over with before his incompetent brother managed to kill himself with cold. As much as Papyrus resented Sans, a begrudging part of his soul admitted his brother wasn't completely expendable to him yet. There was something that held them together still, something that forced him to care even when he battled his mightiest not to. His one weakness. His single remaining piece of sentimentality. The single light left to flicker across his dark and pitiless soul.

A light that fluttered quite painfully when Papyrus came to a halt at his brother's sentry station and the good-for-nothing was nowhere in sight. He frowned, his breath winding past his nonexistent throat in an aggravated growl as he peered all about the destitute little station and came up short. He could have smashed the thing to pieces there if it weren't counter productive to him. He settled for kicking it instead, shaking the wooden frame with his intent and sending snow scattering off the dilapidated roof.

"Sans!" Papyrus barked, his voice bellowing in the void-like landscape, "You useless pile of trash, show yourself!"

Red eyes, glowing brightly with infuriated magic cast about the road and what little of the dense forest he could see, waiting for his idiot brother to stir from a nap or call off an ill-attempted joke. He was greeted with icy silence, his own call warping into something hopeless and bitter as it echoed back to him. Nobody answered. Nobody came. Something in Papyrus' soul gave a painful jerk, his worry going from a background hum to a fever-pitched static that set his bones quivering ever so slightly. His cold confidence began to slip into something that felt much less self assured and much more forlorn.

No! The Great and Terrible Papyrus didn't worry needlessly about a useless monster who couldn't even remain at his own post for a day. If this was worry, he refused it. No, this must be indignation he was feeling. How dare that miserable sack of filth abandon his post and refuse to return home in his own pathetic shame of his shortcomings? How dare he avoid Papyrus, slinking around behind his back knowing he would be punished for his misdeeds and idiocy? Oh he wasn't getting away from this that easily.

"I'm going to kill him," Papyrus growled deep where his throat should be, his very ribcage vibrating from it. He ground his teeth together and clenched his fists in an effort to stay calm. He took a few steps back away from the station, assessing the landscape for any sign as to where the insufferable piece of trash had wandered off to. That's where Snowdin's only redeeming quality came into play - with little wind to disturb the landscape and barely a flurry of snow, footprints could be easily spotted and followed with little effort or skill. And footprints Papyrus found, scattered about the little post and storming deeper into the forest and away from the path. His brother's shoe prints were intermingled with something else as well, something small and stumbling. As well as running, if the space in between them was any judge.

The angry snarl that clenched the tall skeleton's jaws slowly sunk into something more perplexed, puzzling almost. He stepped cautiously to the side of the footprints, following them from a few steps away - hopeful not to disturb them in case he'd need to retreat in the same direction after them. The forest here was dense and dark, the burning hues of the magically infused sunset sending contorting shadows across the snow-strewn floor. Gnarled roots burst free of the snow only to snake their way back beneath it, acting as hp leaching traps for unwary footsteps. Claw-like branches grabbed at Papyrus' armor as he passed, snagging his cape and yanking at him uncomfortably, strangling him with their closeness and bitter touch. As if the world itself were reaching and dragging him, clawing against his frame as he struggled away from whatever benign malevolence they could be concealing.

He nearly lost the trail in the maze of roots and broken branches at least a dozen times, forcing himself to backtrack and at times follow it closer. There were gaps and jumps in the footsteps, stutters where they took flying leaps over fallen logs or corkscrewing roots. A few times Papyrus saw the telltale rips in the earth from bone attacks, long streaks spattered in red gouging across the disturbed landscape before fizzling out uselessly against trees or rocks that broke the ground. A few of them still sizzled with dying magic - whatever altercation had occurred hadn't happened long before Papryus' passing through. The hard ridges of bone above his eye sockets lowered at this, his teeth clenching with nervous intensity.

Of course, Sans could take care of himself. For all his shortcomings as a lazy prick, he had a fight in him that was hell peppered with tasteless jokes and a disgusting mustard tang. And from the looks of it, whatever had pissed him off had taken damage and left it bleeding behind them on more than one occasion. If Sans had any sort of bite behind his pitiful bark the monster would be dead by now - it was shameful how he had to beat something to death slowly the way he did. One could argue cruelty Papyrus supposed, but the reek of laziness took all such assumptions away.

Still, from the way the creature was fleeing it seemed to Papyrus that, whatever it was, it was too weak to defend itself and must have surely perished by now. He should have passed Sans returning from his hunt, or at the very least found some sign that his brother's footprints had backtracked towards his post again. Perhaps even felt that itching, twitch-like shudder that told him the lazy bonehead had used one of his disturbing shortcuts to retreat. But instead there was nothing - just scraggly footprints and some strange leaking death trail. The red of it looked entirely too much like the magical mess Sans lost whenever he got sick after a few too many drinks at Grillby's, and for a soul-stopping second Papyrus wondered if his brother had been injured.

This thought was dismissed almost instantly when he reminded himself that Sans would be dust the instant that happened, and this goosechase through the woods would have stopped immediately or, perhaps, never have started.

Papyrus ducked under a few more threatening boughs before finally emerging into a clearing of sorts, the forest giving way and opening up before him as if it had never been in the first place. He heaved a sigh of relief, releasing the claustrophobic tension that had pressed in on him as he'd pitched and stalked his way through the forest. The world here was bright compared to the gnarled darkness he'd been smothered in, and he held a hand up to shield his eyes from the burnt sunset as it glared over the clearing. It refracted across the frozen glade in dipping shades of crimson and indigo shadows, the bloody spatters from his brother's wounded prey nearly lost to the pooling colors.

Near the center of the clearing, the snow was churned and destroyed, rifts and furrows ripping through the ground in a chaotic fury. The remains of a fight, no doubt. The reek of spent magic bit at Papyrus' nasal cavity as he stepped towards it. His eyes fixed on one particularly violent slash that had torn up the earth and snow, and the mysterious lump on the ground that very much looked like a head and shoulders slumped inside it. Papyrus strode towards it, that feeling that he was so convinced wasn't worry building up as an ache behind his ribcage. Yes, he could see it now. That was Sans. Obviously sleeping - Papyrus refused to believe any differently. His hoodie was stark and black against the sunset-painted snow, his head lulled forward slightly so it was nearly hidden against the mound of fluff that clumped around his collar.

"Sans!" Papyrus barked, and the body gave a shudder. It stirred but didn't move, more a flinch than anything. It didn't rise to greet him. Didn't torture his nonexistent ears with his shameful humor. Papyrus nearly gagged on the mix of rage and anxiety that squirmed through his soul. He was nearly there, his boot prints mingling with the scuffled marks of battle. Twice he stumbled, tripping through a vicious dip Sans' attacks had carved through the ice and snow and swearing accordingly as he did so.

He staggered to a stop beside his brother, towering over the small skeleton's shuddering form. He had a hand buried in the fabric of his jacket, resting over his ribcage where his soul should be. It took a second's assessment for Papyrus to tell his brother wasn't injured - despite what his desperate grip over his soul implied. It took another second to become the most bitterly enraged, passionate angry he'd ever been in his life. That sick not-worry in his chest melted away into an even more nauseous and furious mix of relief and hate.

But before he could say anything, as was his brother's most annoying habit, Sans spoke first.

"Do you think our lives pass in front of our eyes before we turn to dust?"

Papyrus suddenly found himself struggling with keeping his anger on track, instead of letting it derail itself into whatever that emotion was that had been trying so stubbornly to claim him all evening. That resentful worry that just wouldn't die no matter how hard he stamped it down. He took the time to look his brother over again, reassuring himself that he wasn't injured once again - which he wasn't.

"I bet it sucks."

"What the hell is this tripe about?" Papyrus demanded much more harshly than he needed to. He was past the point of feeling ashamed for it though, confusion and worry only working to fuel his anger more. Sans didn't seem phased. He blinked slowly forward once, his face a mask of apathy cast in the dying tones of the sunset. If they were outside much longer, Papyrus doubted there'd even be enough light for them to find their way back again.

"I found a human today."

"You... what?"

"Yeah, a pipsqueak of a kid," for as lifeless as Sans looked on the outside, his voice managed to hint at pleasantry. He raised a hand slowly, measuring off someplace a few feet off the ground.

"Yea tall. Brown hair," his shoulders jerked in a mockery of a laugh, the sound wheezing past his teeth like a death rattle, "Pretty weak. Just kept crying and running away like a spineless little coward."

"Well if they were such an easy target, why aren't they here?" Papyrus demanded, eyes scanning the field and coming up short of the prize he knew should be there, "And why don't you have their soul?"

Sans didn't answer, though it seemed to the taller brother that he sunk in on himself a little. Papyrus hissed out a sigh, his voice dropping into a low growl.

"You. Let. Them. Go."

"Yep," his voice was scarcely above a whisper.

"W h y."

Sans flinched at this, managing a very nervous laugh past teeth that were starting to chatter from fear. Papyrus could tell his brother was shaking, terrified. Sans refused to meet his gaze, refused to defend himself or acknowledge the dangerous tone in his brother's voice.

"C-couldn't do it."

"Couldn't do w h a t ?"

"They just…" Sans huffed out a nervous breath, steadying his voice, "Just kept sparing me. I-it didn't feel right. It derailed me. I couldn't… it was insane."

He was shaking harder now, the weight of Papyrus' glare working far better than any words the skeleton could ever conjure. That was one thing Sans was good at - punishing himself. His own mind ran rampant and chaotic and self destructive as a curse. Papyrus let it happen. Watched him break himself apart.

"I couldn't kill them when they weren't fighting back. They were supposed to fight back. I don't understand. Why wouldn't they… why…?" Sans shook his head, choking on something that couldn't possibly be a sob, because as weak as Sans was he couldn't possibly be that weak.

"And it didn't matter anyway," Sans continued feebly, "The longer we went the better they got at dodging my attacks. Even the blasters. I had… have… nothing left."

Papyrus scoffed, finally yanking Sans' gaze away from the snow and up at his face. There was a clawing desperation in his eyes that Papyrus was understanding. This was why he hadn't come home. Why he had chosen to just sit and waste away here.

"Ah the cruelty of humanity," Papyrus hissed passed clenched teeth, "And you were too weak to stop it."

Sans swallowed hard and dragged his gaze back down to his feet.

"You realize what happens now."

It wasn't a question. Sans knew. Papyrus knew. But he continued nonetheless, drilling home what he was sure Sans had been pining over ever since his fight had ended.

"As soon as the human is spotted, and you're found alive, everyone will know you couldn't kill them."

Sans nodded, the emotion on his face fading once again into the shocked apathy Papyrus had found him steeped in.

"Any monster worth their grit will know you're fair game. Just another way to advance their own position. Easy LV, free XP. Just dust waiting to happen."

Sans shuddered and dropped his face into his hands.

"And if they don't get you, it's treason. The King will find out. Undyne will be sent out after you. Or possibly even me. Now isn't that a fight worth imagining? Though I suppose if you won you might manage to redeem yourself, make yourself a suitable excuse as to why you could kill another monster and not some pathetic child."

There was a moment where Papyrus considered his brother before adding one final thought.

"But we both know you can't dodge forever."

Sans shuddered.

There was a pause in which they both processed what was going to happen next. Papyrus wasn't sure what he should be feeling. His anger was fading, churning around where his gut should be and tempering itself into something else that he couldn't yet identify. There were any number of things he could do about this. Only a handful of them he should do. The question now was whether he would actually intervene or leave his brother to deal with the consequences of his own ineptitude and stupidity.

Though he had a sneaking suspicion that from the way his brother had been speaking earlier, he'd already decided he wasn't going to deal with the repercussions.

"I'm going to die."

"Of course you are," Papyrus snapped matter-of-factly, dragging a shocked look out of his brother, "You don't have enough intent left in you to do the work it takes to dig yourself out of your own gave."

There was a pause between the two of them that dragged on for several minutes. One where that dreadful, worming feeling in the pit of Papyrus' nonexistent guts reached an annoyingly intense pitch and he struggled to keep his cold composure. One where Sans blinked forlornly down at his feet, rolled one of his knuckles between two bony fingers in a nervous stupor and pined over what to do next. Finally, with something like a sigh that was… a scary bit more determined than Papyrus had expected of the hopeless monster, Sans got to his feet. He glared up at his brother with a look that was both resigned and resolute.

"Alright, you do it," he said as firmly as he could manage, though there was an unmistakable break at the edge of his voice that betrayed how torn apart he actually was. For as great and terrible as Papyrus was, there was a pang of something uncomfortably like fear that ran through him for a second. He blinked and scowled.

"Do what."

It was more a demand than a question. Though he knew already. He knew and he didn't like it.

"I'm dead anyway," Sans said, his voice urging towards a hoarse and cracking whisper as he spoke, "I've screwed everything up. I know that. I can't redeem this."

He sighed out a harsh and bitter breath, "And if anyone is going to benefit from this, it's going to be you. Not some damn random monster who gets a cheap shot in at some point."

"You're insane."

"Insane?! You just said so yourself!" Sans snapped, taking an angry step forward, "There is nothing I can do to fix this! I had a chance and I lost it! I was too weak! I couldn't kill that kid. I've been over it for the past I don't know how long, ever since that kid left. I can't beat Undyne, boss. Maybe I could beat you."

Papyrus scoffed.

"But I'm hopeless against the both of you, and against any other monster who decides I'm easy pickings," the shorter skeleton growled, "As soon as the guard finds out, you'll be sent after me anyway. To make sure you're not weak as well. Too weak to kill a traitor. To advance your position."

There it was again. That worming feeling that was sending pangs through Papyrus' bones like some kind of spreading poison against a bleeding pulse. Suddenly he was finding it annoyingly hard to breathe, a building and angry pressure in his ribcage pulling back against every breath he took. He felt passionately something. Passionately angry, enraged and sick and whatever that not-worry was, all jumbled up together in a body that shouldn't even be able to feel. It pulsed about him like bitter miasma, that building potential before the break of something magical and destructive. Something of it showed in his expression, in the way his body tensed, because suddenly Sans was taking a step back. That look of resignation was turning fearful again, though he refused to run. His feet weren't placed to dodge, his magic not braced to attack. Suddenly Sans was the smallest, the most frail and simple thing Papyrus had ever seen.

That rotting, festering feeling squirmed up into Papyrus' ribcage and bit at his soul, and something where his throat should be nearly tensed itself shut.

Slowly, second by second, the bristle in Papyrus died. That fearful magic dropped.

Sans blinked at him, his face a mix of a hundred feelings that varied from relief to confusion.

Papyrus sighed out a tense breath past his clenched teeth, "I. Refuse."

"What…?"

"I will not give you an easy way out of this!" the taller skeleton snarled, a feeling like indignant rage bubbling up through his insides, "You are going to try to fix this, if it kills us both! If you're so keen on becoming dust so easily, at least go out fighting."

Papyrus abruptly spun on his heel, stomping back through the snow in the direction he'd disappeared from.

"The Great and Terrible Papyrus will not have it known his brother was a weakling and a coward!"

There was a reluctant pause before Papyrus heard the sound of Sans' feet crunching after him. They were slow at first, hesitant and confused. But as the distance between them grew, Sans jogged to catch up. He fell in step just to the side and a step behind Papyrus.

"What… what are you going to do, boss?"

"I am doing nothing," the skeleton snapped, a dangerous red glare glinting in his eye, "We are going to kill that human. And we are going to dust anyone who says differently."

Papyrus. Refused.

That writhing, bitter feeling in his soul refused.

Someday, he would rid himself of that feeling. Of that need to keep Sans alive. That angry longing for one person of loyalty and some phantom of trust. But today he wasn't able. He couldn't kill Sans.

But he could kill anything, everything else.

Even some scrawny human that had proven his brother too weak to survive in this world. This world was kill or be killed, after all. Papyrus was plenty good at that.

Author's Notes

Aya I don't know when to stop do I?

Anywho, this is just an idea I cooked up in my spare time as a pet project while I was working on other, bigger things. Based originally on a drawing I did over on my DA account. Apparently my brain is incapable of keeping any idea small, so instead of staying a short drabble, this has slowly ballooned into it's own story. I won't be posting this nearly as often as the other story I have in progress, just dabbling on it when I'm burnt out on the other or feel like adding on. I don't even have solid plans for the next chapter yet, just that there is going to be one XD

So uh, bear with me as I figure out what happens next? And if you've got any ideas throw 'em my way. This is still pretty open at this point.