Not All Monsters Are Monsters
"Hey!
Oh, Mr. Back-Stabbin'-Son-of-a-Bitch
You're livin' in a world that'll soon be dyin'
And I know
Everybody knows you try to be like me
But even at your best, as a man,
You couldn't equal half of me."
—The Enemy – Godsmack
Another two weeks passed as confusingly as the first day the male adult had shown up. The child's mother didn't seem interested in putting her to bed anymore; that duty had apparently been relegated to the man. He seemed a little too interested in the job, if anyone cared what Sans thought. He knew humans had been known to snuggle with their children and make them feel safe, but there was nothing comforting in the way this man hugged the child.
One night, after being put to bed, Frisk shocked the shit out of Sans.
"Monster, are you there?" she asked with a whimper.
He didn't dare answer her. If just showing himself was against the rules, he could only imagine how far from okay it would be to talk to her.
"It's okay if you can't talk to me. Will you just make a noise if you're here?"
Was she not afraid of him? Confused again, he scraped a claw down the bottom of her mattress.
"Thank you," she whimpered. "I'm really scared."
Not of him, apparently. The thought angered him. He shifted, pushing up on her bed slightly. He wanted to reclaim her fear.
"My mom's new boyfriend…he's the one that tucks me in now. His name is Daryl. I don't like him." The bed shifted as she turned to her side and pulled the covers up to her chin. "Today he told me I was really pretty, but I didn't like how he said it."
What the fuck was this kid doing? Sans wasn't her friend; he was her monster and it was his job to scare the fuck out of her. In an attempt at getting back to what he was good at, he growled softly.
All he got out of her was a sniffle.
"I know you're supposed to scare me," she mumbled into her pillow, "but I think I'd rather be stuck with you than him. At least you've never touched me."
He'd like to change that. He'd like to drag a claw down her abdomen and watch her guts spill out onto the fucking floor. It had been too long since he'd seen the insides of a human body; he was starting to forget what they looked and tasted like. He craved the look of horror on a human's face as he ripped off various body parts. It was only better when they'd scream in pain and beg him to stop.
He growled again, a little louder this time, and scraped his claws against the floor. He was determined to win back her fear.
"I am afraid," she whimpered. "I'm really afraid, Monster." Her voice shivered, and he delighted in the sound. "But I'm…I can't scream, and I can't go to my mom's bed. I can't go anywhere; I'm stuck in here with a monster that probably wants to hurt me. But please, please…I'm so tired."
Her plea struck a chord somewhere in his soul. With a grumbled sigh and a snarl, he settled himself down for another boring night.
Sans' days were usually filled with reporting to Boss, checking his inventories, and making a plan for the next night. The kid was too old for nap time, so it was rare to get an opportunity to scare her during the day.
After her supposed conversation with him, however, she started to spend more time in her room. She'd shut the door and color at her desk, trying to ignore the scraping and growling sounds coming from under her bed.
Another two weeks passed that way, with Frisk spending more and more time in her room. Sans was certain that she was becoming immune to every single one of his scare tactics. She didn't even flinch anymore when he pushed up on her bed. He had talked to Boss about it, but he was still forbidden from making his presence visibly known, even just his magic.
It irritated him to no end to know that his charge wasn't afraid of him anymore. In fact, she'd talked to him more and more often as the nights passed. She told him how much she disliked school, how bullies had started to pick on her for her messy hair and outdated clothes, and how Daryl had continued to tell her she was pretty.
The night that everything changed for Sans had started out as a normal night. Daryl had put Frisk to bed, lingering in the hug longer than was truly necessary, and she had cried into her pillow when he left.
Sans made an attempt at scaring her, but she only thanked him for being there so she didn't feel so alone. He grumbled to himself, trying to think of anything else he could do. There simply wasn't anything else aside from speaking or showing her things with magic.
Hours passed. Sans fought back a yawn; he really needed to stay awake and keep thinking of scary things. One day, he'd figure it out.
The clock on Frisk's dresser said it was two in the morning when her door creaked open. Sans heard her gasp and furrowed his brow. Why the fuck was she scared of that but not indiscernible whispers and growls coming from under her bed?
Daryl stumbled slowly and quietly into the room, his feet clad in navy and black plaid slippers. He shut the door behind him and clicked a lock Sans hadn't even known was there into place.
"Are you awake, Frisk?" he asked, his voice slurred. He walked with halted, stumbling steps to her bed.
Sans watched his feet and legs as he moved. Something was really off; his soul held itself tightly with trepidation.
Daryl sat on the edge of the bed, and Frisk whimpered. "It's okay, Frisk," he said softly. "I just can't stop thinking about earlier. You were such a good girl. I want you to be my good girl again."
Sans growled softly to himself. The child's fear was somehow worse that what he had caused in her the first few nights he'd been her monster. This wasn't right; she was his charge for fuck's sake! He should be the one to scare her into tears and whimpers.
"Please," he heard her whine, "I don't want to."
"Now, now," Daryl chided, "bad girls get punished. Do you want me to have to punish you?"
Sans felt the bed shake as she undoubtedly shook her head. "No!"
"Of course you don't. Now come on, then. Be a good girl." He stood up and, facing the bed, dropped his pants.
Sans stared at the pile of fabric at the man's feet for a few long seconds before he could react. No wonder this child wasn't scared of him anymore.
Sans had been known to use sex as a scare tactic before, but it was rare. As much as he liked sex, there were too many willing women around for him to justify raping anyone.
And, as sadistic and cruel as Sans could be, even he wouldn't think of hurting a kid sexually.
That thought, mixed with Sans' possessiveness, made him reach out and grab the man's ankle harshly. His claws dug in, scratching four hard lines across the man's skin.
"What the fuck?!" Daryl all but screamed. He stepped back and looked down at his already bloody foot. "Something just scratched me." He bent down to drunkenly inspect his ankle before feeling around under the bed.
Sans scooted back, away from Daryl's searching fingers, and smiled at the smell of his blood. Oh, he had missed that smell.
Daryl seemed to push the thought away and sat on the bed. "Where were we?" he asked.
Sans decided to use every single one of his scare tactics. He scraped the bed, the floor, and lifted up on the mattress.
Daryl had backed away to Frisk's dresser, wondering aloud what the fuck was going on.
"I don't think my monster likes you," Frisk said.
Sans growled again, a little louder. Something about her claiming him as her monster made his soul clench tighter with possessiveness.
"There's no such thing as monsters," Daryl chided. "I must've drank more than I thought I did."
Sans chuckled darkly, getting a little thrill from watching the man pull up his pants haphazardly and leave the room.
Silence hung in the air for a few minutes. Sans was pleased with himself, although he really wished he could've gutted the man. It would have been nice to feel a human's innards between his phalanges again.
"Thank you, Monster," Frisk said gently.
Sans snorted; he hadn't done any of that for her.
A small hand reached down and touched the floorboards softly. "I know you can't talk to me but thank you. I don't like it when he touches me or makes me kiss him in weird places."
Knowing that tonight wouldn't have been the first time Daryl had abused his charge, Sans growled again and vowed to himself that the human would never touch Frisk again.
Against his better judgement, he reached out a hand and gently stroked a claw along the back of her hand. She gasped but didn't pull her hand back. Instead, she turned her hand around and curled her fingers around his.
"Goodnight, Monster."
