A/N: I do have a few more chapters planned for this story, so stick with me. I don't have an update schedule, but I am fueled by feedback. There's a brief mention of suicide in this chapter too, nothing too heavy.
The next day, Sans got up tired as ever. He regretted promising to return to Snowdin now. Promises were a tricky thing. Even if they weren't explicitly stated, they could so easily tangle someone in a web of obligations and requirements.
After a delicious breakfast courtesy of Toriel, Sans embarked on his journey. It was undeniably odd to retrace his steps he took with Papyrus, and later, Toriel, back to the town. Everything looked about the same so far. Few people outside of the guards came this back to the forest. Most monsters preferred to hike in the trees where they couldn't see the cavern wall and remember that, despite the huge open spaces of Snowdin, they were still trapped by stone and magic.
He passed by the Dogi's sentry post. It was empty, but judging by the thermoses, not abandoned. Soon enough, he saw them rush out of the trees. They relaxed as soon as they smelled him.
"I'm glad you're back, Sans." Dogaressa said.
"Yes, it's good to smell you." Dogamy murmured.
Sans nodded at the pair. The shocked numbness that had been on their faces the last time he had seen them had faded, and Dogamy was now talking, but they looked far from fine. They all struggled to make small talk for a few moments, but nobody had anything to say. The Dogi let Sans continue into town.
Snowdin had always been a rather Gyftmas town, full of light and cheer as if to ward off the chill of the dark forest surrounding it. Today, it seemed a little less warm and colorful as he remembered. Quite a few houses were dark. It was impossible to tell if the windows were dark because the occupants were in deep morning, or if there was nobody left in them to turn on lights.
Snowdin had also always been a rather small town. There was a real sense of community and warmth between everyone who made their home in the town. There's a big difference between a small town and a half deserted town, however. A few monsters walked around listlessly. It was actually kinda depressing, the way things were so unusually dismal.
Just being back here was weird. It sent a shiver up Sans's spine in a way the icy air never did. Grillby's still looked open and pretty homey. More than anywhere else in the town, anyways. Sans made his way to the welcoming bar and grill.
Inside, there was a lot more monsters than outside, but it was still a lot less than was normally here for lunch. He walked up to the bar and ordered a bottle of ketchup. Sans didn't feel anywhere near hungry. Grillby silently pulled down a bottle for him. He was usually a pretty quiet monster, outside of the soft cracking of his flames, so it was impossible to tell if the situation of the Underground had left him speechless like it had other monsters.
Sans leaned back and took stock of the room's occupants as he gulped down the condiment. There were a few bunnies, a few stray fish, a snowdrake huddled in the corner, and Greater Dog. The Royal Guard was chowing down with all his attention focused on his food. There was no sign of Doggo or Lesser Dog. Dimly, Sans remembered stumbling across their dusty weapons.
Sans shook his head. It was so random who was killed. It just didn't make sense. How did the human choose who to spare and who to kill? They played god with so many lives here and they didn't even stick around to see what happened.
He was a little surprised nobody questioned where he had been for the past few months. Maybe it was normal for monsters to just disappear now. Even the usual random small talk wasn't as common as it used to be. Even here, in Grillby's, where Sans could almost call himself popular, he had gotten a barely few nods and greetings. That's for the better. He didn't want to get caught up in emotional conversations or talk about what happened.
A booth filled with three bunnies caught his attention with their chatter. When he had walked in, they had been talking inanely about weather or something, but now their conversation was shifting to something more interesting.
"Oh, but my little one just got back from visiting a friend in Hotland, you know, the nice girl who comes by near about every Saturday. She talked my ear off about all the ruckus in New Home," a grey rabbit said.
"I know, that queen wasn't good for much, but she was better than nothing." A white bunny replied. Sans felt a spark of offense on Toriel's behalf, but that fizzled. Toriel meant well, better than most, but she was kinda out of touch with the rest of the Underground.
"Still, you'd expect someone to step up eventually." The grey rabbit continued.
"I've heard a lot about the little riots and nonsense happening in New Home. Makes me glad Snowdin's so far from that," a brownish bunny spoke.
"Sure, sure, it's all stayed pretty peaceful and on the other side of the Underground, but we're all stuck down here. Can't just get away from it like that," the grey bunny said.
"Well, I gotta say, things sure haven't been the same here since all that went down," the white bunny said.
"I know, at least back then, things didn't seem as…hopeless." The table of bunnies fell quiet for a moment. Sans was half afraid they had noticed his eavesdropping.
"But enough of that! We'll just have to keep going on like we always do." The white bunny perked up again. Their idle chatting moved away from the uneasy political state of the Underground and back into the mundanities of everyday life.
Sans stuck around for a little while longer. He wasn't feeling up to telling his usual jokes, and the other monsters didn't seem like they'd appreciate them anyways.
Eventually, he got ready to leave. He fished around for a few gold coins in his pockets and slide them to Grillby. Grillby just looked at the coins. Sans spoke, "Hey, gotta pay back that tab sometime. Might as well start." Grillby nodded and picked up the coins.
Sans left the bar and stood in the snow as the door shut behind him. He could almost see his old house from here. If it wasn't for the decorated Gyftmas tree standing in the clearing, he probably would've had no problem seeing it.
He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and slowly trudged through the snow. He looked up when a beam of bright light cut across his path. The library. Sans didn't smile, but briefly, he felt a flash of real happiness.
He had spent hours, days, in this library. While it wasn't near as big or grand as New Home's libraries, Snowdin's "Libraby" had an appeal all its own. There were so many good memories in that little building. It had been too long since he'd last gone in, even though they had lived practically next door. He stopped several months before the human came into the picture. That's for the better. There were no recent bad memories associated with the library.
Anything to distract from the dark looming house was good enough for Sans. With a puff of cold wind, he was all but blown into the building when he opened the door. The librarian looked up and greeted him with a small smile. She didn't say anything more, to Sans's relief.
He idly browsed the stacks of books. Here, he could almost forget why he really returned to Snowdin. Sans pulled out a few good books and stacked them on the librarian's desk to check out.
Once again in the snow, he realized he couldn't stall anymore. He had to go into their house. Toriel might not have been there to make sure he followed through, but he had already come all this way.
Sans shuffled to the stairs. He brushed off part of them and placed the books there. At the very least, he could bring them back to Toriel.
Sans stood on the doorstep. A strange mixture of dread and anticipation rose within him. He forced it down as he turned the nob.
It was dark and cold. Of course. How long had it been since anyone had come in here? Long enough that people had stopped caring if the house got consistent power. An experimental flick of a light switch, it's placement instinctively known after years of repeated motion, confirmed that there was electricity. For now, at least. With all that trouble in the capital and around the core, it's the little things like electricity that got overlooked, especially way out in the boondocks like Snowdin.
Their house looked exactly like it had the last time they had both lived there. Sans may have left it not expecting to ever return, but he hadn't expected to live to return to anything else, really.
For a long moment, Sans was frozen at the doorstep. Everything was exactly the same. It was like walking into a snapshot, like at any moment Papyrus would come running in excited about the royal guard or the human.
The kitchen, from what he could see from the door, still had the dirty pots piled in the sink that Papyrus had exasperatedly yelled him to clean. Their pet rock sat just as motionless as it always had on its plate, although it looked like the sprinkles had melted and frozen slightly. The TV was dark, their bedroom doors were shut, and the space, although strewn with a few random papers, dirty clothes, and other items, was relatively clear.
It was like a dream, like the beginning of a nightmare. All that time he had spent at Toriel's house, he had pushed away thoughts of this place and his life before the ruins. He should have known it couldn't last. This place was waiting for him.
Sans took a few steps into the living room. Puffs of dust rose from the carpet and swirled around his ankles. It wasn't his brother's dust. Sans had given Papyrus a proper funeral before he had gone to the castle. Maybe it wasn't as complete as he had hoped it would be-there was an extreme shortage of guests-but it was a real funeral. He didn't deserve to drift away in the snow, lost in the mist.
Memories of the little funeral rose unbidden into his mind. Although the events of that day were firmly etched into his mind, the time was so hazy. He had mourned for years before facing the kid in the hall. The basics of all monster funerals are the same: scattering the dust on the loved one's favorite objects. There were variations and additions. Many funerals had a lot of speeches and singing. Some preferred to mix the dust with water or another element, or just to scatter the dust in a quiet natural place, like the river. He had even heard of some burning the deceased favorite's objects with the dust.
Sans had tried to think of what Papyrus would have wanted. Lots of friends, of course, and probably some speeches about what an accomplishment his life was. Sans couldn't give that to him. Papyrus's funeral consisted of Sans muttering apologies and praise as he rubbed dust onto Papyrus's favorite books, puzzles, action figures, pans, and, of course, his scarf.
The thick layer of dust coating every horizontal surface-and even most of the vertical ones too-were much more meaningless than that. It wasn't made up of the last remains of a person. Though, with how much fresh monster dust has been drifting around the Underground, it wasn't certain that there wasn't some of that. It's funny how dust both represents the undisturbed passing of time and the passing of a monster.
How long had he been standing there, in the middle of the room, looking at nothing? Skeletons can't feel the cold, but when a particularly strong gust of wind sent a breeze whistling through his ribs, shutting the door seemed like a good idea.
Now that he was here, he didn't know what to do. What could he do? Nothing would change. Maybe he could find some sort of "closure", however impossible it seemed. Sans aimlessly wandered around the first floor of the house. Going up those stair and entering Papyrus's room was too much right now.
Now and then, when his slippers caught on something, he would bend over to examine it. Most of it was silly knickknacks. Broken human junk from Waterfall. Well-worn books on puns, science, puzzles, and riddles. Dirty socks that never quite made it to the washing machine. Funny little notes from both of them, which Sans read with a wistful smile.
The more time he spent in his old house, the more wrong it felt. It began as an ominous feeling in the back of his skull and it spread to his very soul. It was far too quiet. It had never been this quiet and empty with Papyrus. The life had left this home when Papyrus had ran to challenge the human. Sans shivered. Silence was unnatural. Toriel's noise was very, very different from Papyrus's, but she was far from quiet too.
Sans tried to imagine living here again. It seemed impossible. This life, this house, didn't fit him anymore. Life with Toriel wasn't great, but it was life. Here, it was a crypt, and it felt so fundamentally wrong that his-Papyrus's-home, one full of warmth and life, was no more than a tomb.
Sans felt sick, never mind that skeletons don't easily get ill. It would be better to go through this quickly and return to the small, safe world of the Ruins.
He made his way up the stairs. A brief moment of curiosity made him look into his old room. It was just as messy as he remembered it. Mountains of junk and dirty clothes, practically no decorations, a little whirlwind in the corner. Sans absentmindedly noted that the dog that sometimes napped in the miniature tornado wasn't there. He quickly checked that the key was still in the drawer. It was. He considered using it and checking in on the lab, but what was the use? The only thing there was those photographs, those diagrams, that machine. No, he wouldn't visit the lab after all.
Enough procrastinating. Sans stood outside of Papyrus's door. He knocked twice. Nobody answered. He let himself in.
Just like the rest of the house, it looked the same. Sans ran his fingers over some of the surfaces, avoiding the particularly dusty items. What was he doing here? What did he really expect to come out of this? Just more pain and freshly reopened wounds. Papyrus would've screamed at how dusty his room had gotten while he was gone. Sans chuckled slightly.
He sat down heavily on Papyrus's bed. He would never again sit here and tell Papyrus a bed time story. He would never again read car magazines with Papyrus and argue over which one they would get. He would never…the list went on and on. Sans knew he had structured his life around Papyrus. He knew he lived for Papyrus. But now that he was gone, what was Sans supposed to do now?
Well, Alphys had already made her choice. Sans couldn't blame her. He understood far too well. There was something scary about that, understanding so deeply why someone else would kill themselves. He'd be lying if he hadn't thought about that himself. Maybe it was because he really was just a coward to the core, maybe it was because Papyrus wouldn't have wanted him to, but Sans could never really commit to it. It's a terrible feeling, to not see either death or life as a long term option.
In the Ruins, he could take it day by day. Sans had loved taking care of Papyrus, if you had asked him, he'd probably tell you it was his life's mission. That is, if he was feeling particularly honest and open that day. There was something nice about having someone else take care of things. With Toriel, he didn't have to worry about cooking, a job, or really doing anything he didn't want to. And didn't that make him feel guilty as hell. Papyrus had gone and died to protect people, and here was his brother, who was supposed to protect and avenge him, living the high life without a second glance.
He shouldn't have come. This house, this room, was full of far too many memories and thoughts. They swirled around, and always returned to the same things. It was his fault.
Sans stood up. As he turned to leave, a piece of paper barely sticking out from under the bed caught his eye. Stuffing papers under his bed definitely wasn't something Papyrus would normally do. Sans pulled it out into the light.
It was a list of numbers. More specifically, it was a list of four digit phone numbers. At the top, the words "HUMAN PHONE NUMBER?" was scrawled in Papyrus's signature handwriting. It took a second, but then the realization hit Sans. Even with how moody and uninterested the kid was throughout the puzzles, even though there clearly was something off, Papyrus had wanted the kid's phone number. He had wanted to be their friend. So much for that.
He could almost picture the moment. Papyrus would've been sitting here at his desk, focusing intently on the paper. He would've methodically called every single one, not even skipping phone numbers he knew was his neighbors. What was he thinking? Did he hope the kid would be his friend, or was he already planning the kid's redemption? Something must've distracted Papyrus. Maybe he looked at the clock, maybe he had heard about the human's movements. Either way, it was sudden enough for him to get up and leave without noticing his sudden movement had carried the paper away. And there the paper had rested, unnoticed by Sans himself when he had briefly entered with Papyrus's dust.
Holding the page, Sans felt…something. It was a still, quiet sort of anger. Some part of him rang with the utter injustice of it all. Papyrus really was too nice for his own good. The last thing he wrote, the last thing he said, the last thing he did, it was all for the sake of helping that human. And for what? To be blindly cut down.
The list was unfinished. Papyrus hadn't found the number before he left, but Sans could tell he had been close to narrowing it down.
Sans felt vaguely sick. It would've been better to have never found the paper. Now, there was even more unfinished business. More unresolved threads. Despite his disgust and hatred of the kid, some small part of him wondered if he could really call the human. Surely Toriel had their number. After all, she had been the one to give them the phone. He couldn't think of anything to say, but maybe that was something. He didn't know. It was difficult enough to stand before them in that golden hall and judge them, to willingly call them, that would be hard.
Sans folded the paper carefully and stuck it between the pages of the tattered notebook he still held in his jacket pockets out of habit. He didn't want to commit to anything, he couldn't decide whether to call or not. Whatever. That's a problem for future Sans.
There really wasn't anything to do here. Sans didn't want to take anything back with him. Too many memories. He didn't want to look over every bit of their house just to feed his sadness. He didn't want to give another eulogy to the dusty objects lying around. He didn't know what he wanted, but it wasn't this. Well, actually, he knew what he wished for every waking moment. He wanted his brother back, but unless the human managed to reset everything again, that was impossible.
Right now, Sans didn't feel much of anything. His soul was heavy, and it was hard to think about the future, but he felt numb.
Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore. He left. When he closed the door, it shut with a final sounding thud.
Robotically, he picked up the stack of books and brushed off the thin layer of snow that had accumulated while he had explored the house.
It was getting late. The ceiling was beginning to dim. It was hard to believe Sans had spent the entire day here, but it felt like time to go anyways.
Walking through the deepening snow was exhausting. Sans thought about just taking a shortcut right to the door to the Ruins and being done with it, but he needed to clear his head in the cold air before seeing Toriel again.
The streets were all but empty as he passed them. The other monsters had either returned to their homes because of the falling night, or to huddle with their remaining loved ones.
It didn't take that long to pass through the dark trees and half broken puzzles in the woods. There was no sign of any of the dog sentries this time. He had almost expected them to keep watch through all hours of the day and night to guard against the threat of another human coming and destroying everything that remained. That wasn't a reasonable thought. Surely they got tired, especially with only three sentries remaining. It was more surprising they hadn't gone to the capital to try to maintain the peace.
By now, evening had fallen over the Snowdin woods. It wasn't too dark. The faintly glowing stones impeded in the ceiling and the white snow kept it from ever being truly dark in Snowdin.
Soon enough, he had reached the looming purple door. Toriel had left it cracked just enough for him to come back into the Ruins without having to rely on Toriel waiting to open the door.
The climate change was extremely stark as he set foot into the Ruins again. The air in the Ruins was much warmer and wetter than the cold dry air of Snowdin, but there was still a certain crispness to it. While Snowdin always smelled of pine and ice, the Ruins smelled almost musty, like dry decaying leaves.
Sans walked through the purple halls in Toriel's basement and up the stairs into her house. He could hear Toriel bustling about in the kitchen, and a delicious scent wafted through the house. Sans set the stack of books on the table and went into the kitchen to investigate.
"Oh, hello, Sans. I hope your visit to Snowdin has been a good one. Dinner will be ready shortly. Please set the table." Toriel greeted Sans warmly. Sans did as she asked, and in a few short minutes, they were tucking into a dinner that could only be described as comfort food. The food was delicious but heavy. It weighed Sans down a little to know he was able to enjoy all this while his brother never would, but he pushed it away like usual.
"So tell me, Sans, how is your brother? I have heard so much about him I cannot help but care for him as well," Toriel asked.
Sans slowed. What should he say? Obviously he couldn't tell Papyrus was dead. It would destroy Toriel to know his brother was dead because she had let that human pass. Sans didn't blame her, not really, but no doubt she would blame herself. Sans had half a mind to say something about how he's "at peace" or was "with his favorite things", but he refrained.
Before the silence could last an awkwardly long time, Sans responded. "Oh, he's just fine. He…moved away but he's been about the same."
Toriel looked interested. "Really? I am happy to hear he is doing so well. Once again, though, I must say I don't want to keep you from your family. I don't want you to move away from your brother just for this silly old lady."
Sans waved off Toriel's guilt with a flick of his hand and an easy smile. "Don't sweat it, Tori. My bro's always been about independence anyways. He's probably happy he doesn't have to pick up my messes anymore." It hurt to dismiss Papyrus so easily like that. Sans changed the subject quickly.
That night, alone in his room, he removed the paper and smoothed out the creases. Sans gently touched the letters and numbers Papyrus had written. He still hadn't decided what to do about it. Whatever he did, it wouldn't help. It wouldn't bring Papyrus back. Even if he managed to guilt trip the human into resetting, even though they hadn't hesitated when he judged them, he was pretty sure it was impossible to reset past the barrier. It might be impossible to call as well.
Whatever. Sans put the paper into a drawer and laid on his bed. It's a problem for another day. At least returning to Snowdin wasn't quite as painful as he had feared.