Absolution Chapter 3, an undertale fanfic

You wake up in your room, staring at the ceiling from the questionable comfort of your worn-down mattress. The first light of the fabricated underground dawn is just barely visible above the rooftops.

They reset again.

You jolt up, tiny beads of sweat already gathering on your skull. You don't have time to sleep. You don't have time to think. You must set out to do the job before they -

Then you remember.

Frisk.

...They reset again.

You fall back down on the mattress and take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. You can barely believe the events of the last reset weren't just a dream cooked up by your delusional mind that wanted nothing more than to end the nightmare. But your dreams, no matter how horrifying, usually turn out to be true.

You close your eyesockets and try to concentrate on your immediate surroundings to stifle your nervous alertness that pervades your entire body, your doubts that buzz around in your head. You feel strangely empty that for once, you don't have to race against the clock, don't have to mentally build a plan for how to sweep the Underground clean the most effectively. You wonder if that Chara kid is indeed going to let Frisk do things their own way this time. You wonder whether you will meet them tomorrow only to see dust on their hands once again.

Probably.

Well, if they ultimately decide that they are still bored, you can just go through with it again.

Through your closed door, you can make out the muffled sounds of Papyrus preparing breakfast, pots and pans clanking together. You stay there for who knows how long, eyesockets closed, lying motionless and thoughtless until he knocks on the door to alert you that breakfast is ready, and really, you should be up by now, lazybones. Hearing his voice sends a chill down your spine as you realize that the first thought to spring to your mind was how easy a target he would be. How cost-effective it would be to gain five levels for a single kill. Your soul feels cold and dead in your ribcage.

You're not sure if you can bear this for long.

You're going through the motions, dragging yourself out of your room, your grin a mask, your pupils (a clear white this time, how unusual) barely visible in your sockets. Papyrus notices it, of course, he always notices when something's wrong. You can see the worry written all over his face, but for once, he says nothing.

Good.

An eerie feeling of displacement starts to creep upon you as you step out of the house. Your hoodie is clean and spotless. Snowdin is brimming with life, residents going about their business, chatting it up, greeting the two of you, waving at you. Monster Kid is standing under the Gryftmas tree, awing at the presents wrapped in colorful paper (you watched him getting tossed off the bridge before Undyne could have intervened). The librarbian is fumbling with his keys as he closes the door to his home (you remember catching a glimpse of his glasses lying there in the pile of dust on your way out). Grillby passes by on his way to work, nodding wordlessly in your direction (he was still trying to calm you down, talking to you in a low, soothing voice, when you summoned a blaster to finish him off).

You'd be able to destroy every single one of them with little to no effort by now. The thought is oddly comforting. It almost feels like home, a solid foundation of your identity that you can always return to. For a moment, you are back in control. You have nothing to fear anymore. Nobody can harm you. You are stronger than them. Stronger than any of them.

But they are still here, knowing nothing, remembering nothing, mocking you with their mere existence, and suddenly, it's just too much. Your breath quickens, and you can't suppress a shudder as you take in all the sights and sounds and smells surrounding you, overwhelming your senses. This isn't real. It can't be real.

They shouldn't be here.

They shouldn't be alive.

Why are they alive?

I must -

Your breath hitches and you stagger, feeling nauseous, the world reeling violently around you.

I must -

"...BROTHER?"

The streets are silent and the trees rotting and the houses abandoned.

I killed them all.

You close your eyesockets and let yourself fall, fall down someplace cold and deep and dark.

"...?!"

Dust, dust everywhere. Wind howling in the empty caverns.

It is all that remains.

"...!"

"...huh?"

You look up and realize Papyrus has been calling your name for a while now. He's hunched over beside you, holding your frame up with one arm, making sure you can lean on his shoulder for support. A few passersby have stopped on their way and are now looking at you with concern.

"SANS! ARE YOU OKAY?"

"'m fine", you manage to mumble weakly. Papyrus is having none of it, of course.

"I TOLD YOU YOU SHOULD HAVE EATEN AT LEAST A LITTLE OF MY NUTRITIOUS SPAGHETTI FOR BREAKFAST! NO WONDER YOU CAN BARELY WALK!"

You inhale deeply and blink a few times, trying to clear your head.

"it's okay, paps. i, uh - i just stubbed my toe and it hurt a lot."

"OH? THEN LET ME CHECK! YOU SHOULDN'T GO TO WORK WITH AN INJURED FOOT!"

"no need for that, bro", you hurry to reassure him. "it was nothing. it's much better already. see?" You lift up a slippered foot and wiggle your toes. Papyrus raises a bony eyebrow and gives it a skeptical look.

"WELL… IF YOU SAY SO."

"heh, i do. toe-tally."

"ARGH! SANS! NOW I'M THE ONE HURTING!"

"heh heh."

More or less reassured that you are indeed feeling better, your brother resumes chatting excitedly about Mettaton's latest TV performance, maybe to fill the silence, maybe because he's hoping to lift your spirits a little. You shift your grin into a hollow smile, fully aware that he's not fooled by it. Tuning out the chatter, you briefly recite his stats in your head, just out of habit. HP 680, ATK 20, DEF 20, EXP 200.

Just in case.

You part ways, and you set out to your guard post near the edge of the forest. You trudge through the snow, feeling a chill that has nothing to do with the permanent winter of Snowdin. Head bowed, hands in your pockets, you force yourself to take another step, then another, then another. Left, right, left, right. It's not even that hard, really. Piece of cake. And hard or not, you must retain some semblance of normalcy. You must.

A sudden gust of wind throws a flurry of snow in your face and you instinctively pull up your hood to keep the dust out.

Oh. Yeah. No dust this time.

Yet.

You stop, finally looking up and taking in your surroundings. You realize that you've come as far as the wooden fence that your brother built so, so long ago. You can just make out the gate leading to the ruins in the distance. You stop at the ledge and stare down into the rocky abyss.

You're feeling more alone than ever. More alone than you felt after killing everyone. You sit down and pick up a small pebble, idly dropping it into the precipice. You don't hear it hit the ground below.

Of course Papyrus would try to make sense of it all. Maybe he would even forgive you, the merciful fool he is. You briefly consider going back and throwing the whole truth in his face, just to see what happens. Just to get what you deserve: his fear, his contempt, his utter disgust. His disbelief. It would certainly feel better than this. Almost peaceful…

But there's always the possibility that he forgives you. And you can't have that, you can't have that at all.

He can't ever forgive you.

You lounge around at your post, slumped over the ledge of the wooden booth, staring into space, feeling sluggish and somehow already exhausted, your mind hazy. The kid's due tomorrow, around this time. The thought of a whole day looming ahead of you fills you with dread.

When your shift finally ends, you don't even care to teleport over to your hot dog stand. You head home instead, planning to lock yourself in your room and try to get some sleep. Papyrus is already at home, vigorously vacuuming the couch. He greets you with fake enthusiasm and doesn't attempt to hold you back when you go straight to your bedroom. You throw yourself on your mattress and lie there sleepless, staring at the wall until it's time for dinner. You mentally prepare yourself for more of your brother's spaghetti only to find out it's takeout from Grillby's instead. You pretend to be pleasantly surprised, but you can't even stand the smell of it. After such a long time spent starving, the mere thought of food makes your nonexistent stomach turn. You eat a few bites for Papyrus' sake but you can barely keep it down. He looks disappointed, yet - again - he says nothing.

The usual evening program isn't any better. You're slugging on the couch, trying very hard to pretend that you're immersed in Mettaton's newest space opera. Papyrus is seated next to you, seemingly giving the show his undivided attention, but you can see from his rigid posture that he's just as tense as you are. The very second after Mettaton waves everyone goodbye, sending kisses left and right, he turns off the TV. Thankful that the day is finally over, you get up and make a show of stretching your arms sleepily.

"well, this was more than enough excitement for one evening. i'm gonna turn in." You fake a yawn and make a move toward the stairs. "g'night, pap."

"SANS."

Of course he calls after you. Of course he can't very well leave you alone. Reluctantly, you turn around. Papyrus is still sitting on the couch, staring ahead with a frown on his face. You can barely stifle a sigh. You're not ready for this.

"what is it, bro? you want a bedtime story? 'cause i'm kinda -"

"PLEASE STOP."

"ok", you say airily, staying on the spot. "this is as good a place for sleeping as any."

"I MEAN STOP PRETENDING."

"pretending what?"

"YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT, SANS. AND I HAVE THE FEELING THAT YOU'VE BEEN AVOIDING THE SUBJECT ON PURPOSE."

"you gotta be a little more specif -"

"I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUR BEHAVIOR TODAY! THIS MORNING, YOU LOOKED LIKE DEATH, AND DIDN'T EVEN REACT WHEN I TRIED TO PROVE TO YOU THAT JUNIOR JUMBLE IS HARDER THAN CROSSWORD. YOU HAVEN'T EATEN ANYTHING FOR BREAKFAST, YOU HAVEN'T EATEN LUNCH EITHER, AND WHEN YOU CAME HOME, YOU JUST WENT STRAIGHT TO YOUR ROOM! WHAT ABOUT YOUR SECOND JOB? AND THAT'S NOT COUNTING THIS EVENING. I THOUGHT YOU LIKED SPACE MOVIES, BUT I COULD TELL YOU WERE JUST STARING OUT OF YOUR HEAD. I EVEN BROUGHT YOU A WATER SAUSAGE BURGER! I KNOW IT'S YOUR FAVORITE, GRILLBY TOLD ME SO, AND YET YOU BARELY EVEN TOUCHED IT!"

Listening to his endless tirade makes you even more tired. You want nothing more than to go to your room and crash. You don't even think of what to reply. Whipping out the same old lie comes easy by now.

"it's nothing, paps. i'm just tired, that's all. really."

Papyrus frowns. Never a good sign.

"NO, YOU'RE MOST DEFINITELY NOT 'JUST TIRED'. I KNOW YOU'RE HURTING, BROTHER. I KNOW YOU'VE BEEN HURTING FOR A LONG TIME NOW, BUT THIS IS… DIFFERENT."

His looks at you with searching eyes, his voice heavy with worry, and it irritates you all the more because you know that this time, you won't be able to placate him with a convenient lie. He's genuinely concerned about you, and he's at a point where your usual excuses wouldn't satisfy him anymore.

"i told you it's nothing."

"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU."

You turn back and head off to the stairs, your voice stern.

"leave me alone, papyrus."

"NO."

He springs up and leaps in front of you, blocking the way to the stairs. You look up at him, ready to snap at him to finally get him off your back, and you're taken aback at how hard his expression is. The words die in your throat.

"DO YOU THINK IT MAKES ME HAPPY THAT I MUST NAG AND KICK YOU CONSTANTLY IN THE BUTT TO EVEN GET YOU OUT OF THE HOUSE AND MAKE YOU ACTUALLY DO YOUR JOB? OR ANYTHING AT ALL, REALLY?" He takes a step toward you, throwing his arms in the air. "DO YOU THINK IT'S EASY FOR ME?"

He turns away for a second, his expression hurt and bitter.

"AND WHENEVER I TRY TO HELP YOU OR AT LEAST MAKE AN ATTEMPT TO EVEN FIND OUT WHAT YOUR PROBLEM IS, YOU JUST SHRUG AND LIE AND SHUT ME OUT LIKE I'M - LIKE I'M SOME IGNORANT BABY BONES! I'M SORRY, BUT… BUT THIS IS UNBECOMING OF YOU!"

For a few seconds, you can't see anything but his darkened, ghostly form floating beside you, his eyes glowing red with anger and eternal torment.

"YOU MURDERED ME, SANS."

"I'M SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU."

"YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I HATE YOU."

"I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU."

You shake your head and return to the present. Papyrus is standing in front of you, scowling, his arms folded.

"SO NO. I'M NOT LEAVING UNTIL YOU TELL ME EXACTLY WHAT IS GOING ON."

Screw this.

Your left eye flashes for a moment, teleporting you to your bedroom. As you swiftly lock the door, you hear your brother come running up the stairs, his boots landing heavily on the wooden boards. He tries to turn the doorknob, futilely.

"SANS? SANS, I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! ANSWER ME!"

You stay quiet. Maybe he'll just give up and go to his room. You hear him let out a frustrated huff.

"WELL, YOU'D BETTER COME OUT SOONER OR LATER BECAUSE I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE. I WILL SPEND THE WHOLE NIGHT STANDING HERE IF I MUST!"

I could kill you. I could kill you any time, and you wouldn't even fight back. You'd just let me do it, the pathetic weakling you are. You might know the pleasure of battle, but you'll never know the pleasure of victory. You'll never know how real power feels.

Your mind comes to a screeching halt, and in a panic, your hands come up to your temples as if they could catch you before you go to places where you don't want to go again. You shouldn't be thinking these thoughts. You shouldn't be thinking like this about Papyrus of all people. You can't lose him. You can't lose his love. Your love. You can't lose the only anchor still keeping you in place. You should go out and apologize.

Heh.

So you're still sticking to the same old lie, aren't you?

You know you can't lose something you've already lost.

You look at the door and shrug.

To hell with it all.

It's not like you deserve him anymore.

You unlock the door and step out to the landing. Papyrus is planted in front of the door, trying to adopt an intimidating pose, with little success.

"so. you want to know what's going on, huh?"

Papyrus doesn't say a word, just gives you a curt nod.

"alright. i'll tell you."

Hands shoved in your pockets, your left eye flares up slowly, cyan magic glowing in your socket, your grin curling into a predatory smile. You take a small step toward your brother. He involuntarily takes a step back, and you can tell that he was genuinely scared for a split second there. Bile rises in your throat, mixed with the heady feeling of triumph.

He's afraid. He doesn't know why, but deep in the darkest recesses of his soul, he remembers.

You take another step, and this time, Papyrus steels himself and stays in place. You lean close toward him, your grin cruel and mocking, your voice cold.

"nothing."

NOTHING -

"nothing is going on. nothing that your dumb little brain could ever understand, because you always forget everything anyway, and then wake up in the next morning none the wiser. you can't understand how i feel because you're simply too damn stupid to remember. so count your blessings, pal, and do me a favor and drop it. go and play with your puzzles, or hunt for humans who never come, or daydream about how you will make it to the royal guard some day. not that it would do any good ever, because it doesn't fucking matter. none of it matters."

Papyrus' eyesockets widen, and he opens his mouth, unable to even form words. The look he gives you –

- he refused to fight you -

"and you know why?" Your grin widens even more, until it doesn't even resemble a smile anymore. "because no matter what bullshit asgore has been feeding us, truth is, we're stuck here. forever. we're never gonna make it to the surface. never."

- he was still hoping for you -

"and guess what, bro? you know this, too. you know this. you just pretend otherwise." You lean even closer, staring straight into his sockets. "but y'know what? you were right. it's time to stop pretending once and for all."

- still believing in you -

"Just give up."

- even when he understood nothing.

You take a step back and give him a wicked smile, your head cocked to one side. "i did."

Papyrus is looking at you - you can't even describe how he's looking at you now. He's tearing up, his breath coming in quick, ragged gasps, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. He looks away, trying to blink away the tears.

"S-sans…"

Good job, Sans. You made your baby brother cry.

Not that that's anything new.

"I… I know it's hard for you, but… but..."

Your hands move involuntarily for a split second, a part of your soul wanting to comfort him, to reassure him that it's alright, that you love him, that he's more precious to you than anything. You resist the urge, aware that it's only a residual habit from days long past. You don't deserve to touch him. You don't even deserve to breath the same air as him. Your love has been a lie for a long while now, replaced by remorse and self-loathing since you first raised a hand against him. And now you're desperately grasping at these feelings in order to not give in to your hatred. To convince yourself that you still have a shred of sanity left.

"just go."

Papyrus doesn't look at you, just nods wordlessly and sets off to his room, his shoulders hunched, his footsteps slow. From your end of the darkened landing, you more hear than see his bedroom door open and close quietly.

Well, it's time to resort to the only method that makes you forget.

It's time to get plastered.

Grillby's is still open, a warm, welcoming light shining through the windows, illuminating the snow around the building. The athmosphere is friendly as always, too, the usual company greeting you enthusiastically when they see you enter. Bun waves at you from one of the boxes.

"Sansy! Good to see you! Come and sit with… me?"

You're not in the mood to even bother with acknowledging their presence. Without saying a word, you make a beeline for the bar and pull yourself up on a stool. You lean on your folded arms and raise a finger to call Grillby, who promptly pours you a shot and throws in a packet of ketchup that you take care to empty into the glass before downing it in one go.

Ahh. Better.

"pass me another one."

The fire monster gives you a questioning look from behind his glasses, his flames crackling softly.

"i don't give a crap about my tab right now."

Without a word, Grillby complies; he always does, the reliable fellow he is. After the second glass, you feel your awful mood mellowing out a little. After the third, the homeliness of the place becomes even homelier. After the seventh, your soul almost feels warm again.

As the evening turns into night and the empty glasses start to form a long row in front of you, you find yourself becoming more and more chatty, opening up to the usual small talk. After all, you're all friends here, right? Guilty, insane, murderous friends. Nothing special. That said, the others don't seem to be that eager to engage in conversation with you.

"okay. didja hear the one about the monster who's gotten run over?", you ask Wells, the Nice Cream vendor who's sitting next to you, sipping his milkshake. He shakes his head uncertainly. "heh, of course you didn't. it's 'cause i just made it up. anyway, you weren't missing anything, it's really pedustrian."

You snort. This wasn't bad at all. Wells blinks at you before forcing a weak chuckle, clearly feeling uncomfortable. But hey, that's his problem, not yours. You shrug and grab the eighth glass. It nearly slips out of your phalanges before you can empty it. Your speech is getting slurred, and some of the monsters sitting at the bar give you a concerned look.

"hey, here's another one. why did the monster kill himself?"

Nobody gives you an answer.

"'cause they it was his dustiny."

You break into a drunken laughter at your own joke, vaguely aware that you're the only one to do so.

"y'see, it's - it's funny 'cause he's dead. turned into dust. nothing but dust. dust, dust, dust everywhere."

Again the silence. Eh. Fuck'em if they're too stupid to realize how hilarious it is. You, for one, find it irresistibly funny, chortling loudly before you can get a hold of yourself. Grillby stops in front of you, wiping a glass. His voice is quiet but firm.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Sans?"

"yeah. it's about this tough room you got here. have you all lost your funny bones?"

Grillby doesn't make a reply, just adjusts his glasses and keeps on wiping. Your look at him sullenly, your mood quickly ruined by the fact that by now, you've remained alone at the bar. Of course, it doesn't mean you can't entertain yourself for a little more. You'll show them what a comedian you are. You beat that Snowdrake kid any time.

"okay. lemme think of another one", you grumble. "just - just a sec."

You're ready to bury your head into your folded arms to rest a bit when you hear Grillby's pleasantly warm flames crackle a little louder.

"You should go home, Sans. Papyrus must be waiting for you."

"i go home when i had enough."

"I think you had enough already."

"i couldn't care less about what you think, dude", you snap at him. "i don't give a flying fuck, capiche?" You slam the glass on the counter, startling a few of the patrons, and suddenly, an idea occurs to you. Your grin widens in anticipation. "and you know why?"

Heh heh. This is going to be the best of all.

"i tell ya why. i tell ya." You prop your chin up with your palm and look up at the fire monster who's still wiping the glass patiently. Your grin twists into a grimace, pupils disappering into darkness. "it's 'cause i killed you, grillbz." You close an eyesocket playfully, your voice remaining casual. "yep. i fuckin' murdered you. like, i dunno, maybe a dozen times? hell if i remember."

Grillby's hand stops for a second, and when he resumes cleaning the glass, his movements are noticeably slower. He clearly has some hazy recollection of the previous timelines, a fleeting sense of dread, a flicker of despair, you can see it in the hesitation that has seeped into his demeanor. You snicker at his reaction. Looks like someone isn't so stoic after all, huh?

Let's carry on with the show, then.

"wanna know how?" With a snap of your fingers, you summon a blaster. Through the thick haze of the liquor, you're vaguely aware of the terrified gasps of the patrons, chairs falling over, Lesser Dog whimpering in fear. At the sight of the huge draconic skull hovering menacingly below the ceiling, even Grillby takes a small step back, putting the glass down. You let out a snort. "that's how, my friend."

The bartender quickly gets himself together and turns to you again. His voice is even and gentle, as if he was trying to coax the truth out of you without provoking you.

"I'm listening, Sans."

Anger flares up in you at his reserved, quiet manner. Envy is eating you alive because they have it so damn easy. They can afford themselves to remain calm and collected and all smug and superior. No matter what happens, they just forget and carry on, the lucky bastards. For a moment, you feel nothing but hatred toward them. You voice drops to a hostile growl, your grip tightening on your glass.

"so you're listening, huh? then lemme tell ya that 'listening' won't do any good. nothing will do any good. it's all in vain 'cause you'll just forget it anyway. so you can take your 'listening' and shove it up your flaming ass."

Satisfied with your answer, you prepare to empty your glass when you realize something's wrong. You turn on your stool, only to meet with the sight of the patrons looking at you in deathly silence.

Oh, yeah. The blaster. You snap your fingers again, dismissing it, and send down the last remaining drops.

"you can stop staring", you shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. "i killed you, too, y'know. every single one of you."

No sooner than you finish the sentence, Grillby folds the cleaning towel and gives a quick nod in the others' direction, wordlessly telling them it's time to leave. Well fuck them. Fuck them all. You raise a hand, palm facing outwards, as a placating gesture.

"hey, no need for that." You put your glass on the counter before you might drop it. "i know when i'm not welcome. i'll see myself out." You slide off the stool, barely avoiding tripping over your own feet in the process. "oh, and put it on my tab, grillbz. or not, whatever you want. 's not like it would matter by tomorrow morning."

You slam the door on your way out and immediately get hit in the face with the chilly winds of your hometown - if you can still call it that. You stagger for a moment from dizziness, and you have to lean on the door for support. Damn, you're more drunk than you thought. After you more or less regain your balance, you take a few deep breaths to clear your head a little and head off to Snowdin Forest. You don't want to go home. Not yet. Not ever. After all you've said, you don't have the courage to face Papyrus in the morning.

You're dragging your feet through the snow, stumbling here and there, your steps swaying and uncertain. At some point, you somehow manage to lose a slipper, your sock gradually getting soaking wet, but you couldn't care less.

They could sense it, you muse bitterly. They could sense the danger. They might think it was just the ordinary nervousness one feels in the company of any violent drunkard. Through the mist of endless resets, through the labyrinthine paths of repeating timelines, they might forget. But they can still sense it. In their heart of hearts, in their soul of souls, they will always know that they can't trust you.

And it's for the best, really. They should fear you. They should shun and reject you wherever you go. It feels good. It feels right.

Because monsters like you can kill them any time they want to.

Because monsters like you will kill them any time they want to.

Because monsters like you…

...should be burning in hell.

And one day, you certainly will. So why not today?

Even with the liquor muddying your thoughts, you're keenly aware that you shouldn't do this. You know you should stay alive, stay alert and vigilant, keeping a close eye on the human's every move. You can't quit. You can't ever quit.

...Can you?

You lean against a pine tree and stare into the underground darkness.

So what if they kill everyone again?

Then what?

Nothing would change. Nothing ever changes.

They all die anyway.

The wind starts to pick up, wuthering among the trees, making you shiver. You reach for your hood to pull it up, the movement eerily familiar, and your hand stops. The chill that grabbed your soul this morning returns tenfold, and for a moment, you see what you've become with such clarity that it frightens you.

You might have restrained yourself from hurting others for now. You might have restrained yourself from killing. But you're still stuck in those abandoned caverns full of dust. You're still the same merciless monster who willingly and systematically hunted down and murdered all of his friends. Despite everything, you're still a danger to them.

And you certainly didn't say anything about sticking around for anyone's sake.

You know what to do.

You take care to go deep into the woods where you can't be seen from the road anymore, and check for any hidden cameras before settling on a relatively secluded spot. As you summon a large, sharp-tipped bone, you don't feel anything. It's not like you haven't been through this countless times. You flick your left hand and your brain barely even registers the pain as the bone pierces through your torso. You fall on your kneecaps, sinking deep into the snow, and, closing your eyesockets, you let your consciousness flicker out, plummeting into darkness until nothing remains but your dust-covered hoodie lying empty under the pine trees.

No matter how many times it happened, it's still a little strange to be able to remember your own death. It's always the same, even if it's different every time. Your vision submerges into a bluish-gray haze, your senses fluctuating between alert panic and dizziness, magic pulsing through your body in a desperate attempt to heal itself before inevitably dissolving into air, small particles of dust swirling around aimlessly, until your very soul gets torn apart to thin white petals. Not a particularly pleasant feeling.

Still, if it's the choice between dying again or going through one more day like this, one more moment like this, you definitely prefer the former.

So after scribbling a note to your brother that you finally decided to go on a vacation and gluing it to the front of your booth, you go through with it again. Maybe this time it will stick.

The only downside of falling asleep is that eventually, you have to wake up.

Except for one special case that you once again welcome with open arms.

This has to stop.

You will make it stop.

You decide to meet the kid at the usual spot to have a serious talk. You briefly consider just teleporting right to the ruins and catch them there, but the thought of seeing the old lady again after all you've done makes you feel ill. So you rather wait among the trees in the morning of the second day, drawing nonsenical patterns in the snow with your slippered foot, idly picking the needles off a fallen pine branch until you hear the heavy stone doors open and close.

There they are, as always. You're watching them from your hiding place as they trudge through the snow, their arms wrapped closely around their torso against the cold. You look for any stray flecks of dust on their hands since you can't check their LOVE from this distance. They're turning their head left and right, as if trying to catch sight of something. Too bad you've always been good at surprises.

They spin around when they hear the twig snap. Their face is tense and worried. It doesn't suit them at all, the thought occurs to you.

"heya."

You quickly check their stats and you're slightly surprised to find that they are still at LV 1. Maybe they indeed intend to make good on their promise. Or not. Either way, you won't be here to witness it.

"Sans!"

The kid is clearly relieved to see you alive. You can't say you agree with them on that. They tread towards you, arms extended, as if they wanted to give you a hug, but they stop when they see you're not making any move. An awkward silence settles in as they take a small step back and lower their arms, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. You lean against a tree, hands in pockets, and give them a sharp smile.

"so. still practicing that vow of mercy?"

They nod hesitantly, reverting back to muteness again. Your smile doesn't even waver as you look to the side, casually eyeing the dark stone roof looming above the treetops.

"nice to hear. 'cause lemme tell ya, repeatedly resurrecting someone who'd clearly prefer to stay dead would be a pretty merciless move, now wouldn't it?"

They frown slightly and take a deep breath, biting their lip. When they speak at last, their tone is firm.

„I promise not to reset anymore if you promise you won't hurt yourself this time."

„i don't make promises, kid."

"Then I will reset again."

You inhale sharply.

„is that your solution to every problem you face? go back in time to make it not happen? you sure know how to dodge consequences, buddy."

They flinch at that but still carry on.

"I don't want you to die."

„i couldn't care less about what you want, kid."

„Sans, I - I know you're feeling guilty. I felt horrible, too, when they - when I let them kill everyone. I still feel horrible about it! I know that it's not something that… that you can forget." They look up at you, their eyes pleading. "But this is not what you are! You can still set things right! I know it!"

"so you're just going to keep resetting until you can make me see the truth? denying everyone else their only hope so you can feel good about yourself? our hero and savior, everyone." Your tone is bitter and mocking, even if you know you're unfair to them. You just don't care.

"But - they won't get their happy ending without you."

"you got it backwards, pal. they won't get their happy ending if i stick around."

"Think about what they would do if they found out that you're dead, Sans! What they felt in the previous timelines when they did find it out!" That's the thing you want to think the least about, thank you very much. "Think about Papyrus -"

Your left eye flashes blue as you pin them down with your magic. They cry out in surprise, squirming in vain to shake off the gravitational force that keeps them on the ground. Detaching yourself from the tree-trunk, you slowly close the distance between the two of you.

How dare they.

"coming at me with papyrus, huh?"

Your eyelights disappear into the void of your sockets as you lean down to their face, your grin a menacing snarl.

"listen closely, kid. you have no idea what I went through to keep my brother safe. no idea. i did everything to keep him out of the guard. to keep him out of danger. and first and foremost of all, to keep him away from you humans. and then guess what? i let my guard down for a sec - and you and your buddy come and kill him in front of my eyes, force me to LET you do it, force me to WATCH, force me to fucking KILL HIM. you forced me to kill my own brother, buddy. pal. friend. and after all the crap you pulled you DARE come back and use this lovey-dovey friendship wanna-save-you bullshit on me?"

They stop struggling as you grab the neck of their shirt roughly and lift them even closer.

"you think it's easy to start over after all i've done? you think staying alive would be an option for me? you really think i'll put myself through this crap even one more time just because you tried to manipulate me with papyrus?!"

Your phalanges tighten into a fist, your voice a deep growl.

"Not. Gonna. Happen."

"SANS? WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO? IS THERE SOMEONE ELSE WITH YOU?"

With a flick of your wrist, you release the kid and toss them among the trees because you don't feel like dealing with introductions right now, to put it mildly.

Your brother is approaching from the clearing where he was working on his newest trap. He carries himself upright and proud, his scarf billowing after him. For a moment, all you can think about is how he was lying in the snow helplessly, impaled by sharp white bones, his voice strained from the pain, his breath weakening, but still hoping for you, still smiling at you, still certain that you did it all with a good reason.

"no, paps. i was just thinking out loud."

"ARE YOU… UM… SURE?"

"uh. yeah, i'm sure there's nobody else here. though truth be told, i'm pining for some company."

Papyrus doesn't even groan at the pun. He's fidgeting with his gloves, apparently at a loss about how to express his concern in a way that won't make you clam up like usual. In the end, he decides to just be straightforward.

"I KNOW YOU DON'T LIKE TO TALK ABOUT THESE THINGS, BUT… ARE YOU FEELING WELL, BROTHER? YOU BARELY TOUCHED YOUR BREAKFAST THIS MORNING, AND YOU LOOKED MORE TIRED THAN… WELL, THAN USUAL."

"heh, sure. everything's alright."

"DO YOU - DO YOU MAYBE WANT ME TO STAY WITH YOU FOR A WHILE?"

"no, bro, thanks. i'm okay, really."

"I CAN HELP YOU WITH YOUR PUZZLES, IF YOU'D LIKE TO."

You feel yourself getting impatient, irritation creeping into your voice.

"papyrus, i'm fine. i just want to be alone for a while. okay?"

His face falls.

"O-OKAY. THEN I JUST… I'LL JUST BE OVER THERE. IF YOU NEED ME."

"sure."

He turns back in the direction of the clearing, his posture radiating sadness. You know you should just say something reassuring so that everyhing will be well once again. You should just lie, as you always do. Nothing is easier. With so much practice, you could give a master class on the topic by now.

But sooner or later, all of you have to face the truth. And the truth is that you're not worth it. The truth is that you deserve death.

And you will make the kid see the truth no matter what it takes.

No matter who it takes.

Heh.

Heh heh.

Why not?

Your chuckle is bitter and desperate. Hey, you did this before. Several times. You can do it one more time. You steel yourself and make sure your voice is loud enough for Frisk to hear it from their hiding place when you call out after Papyrus.

"hey, paps!"

He turns around, practically whirling on the spot, hope written over his face that you're finally going to open up to him. You manage to force a weak smile.

"look at this awesome trick i learned a while ago."

Your left eye flares up and two blasters appear above you, facing toward your brother. His jaw drops as he takes in the sight, clearly impressed by your display. Then he turns to you, his face lightened up with giddy excitement.

"WOWIE! I DIDN'T KNOW YOU CAN DO THIS, TOO! BUT YOURS ARE -"

He doesn't have time to finish the sentence. You slam down your hand and Papyrus is violently knocked back from the force of the rays that hit him square in the chest. He falls on his back in the snow, hard, and for a few seconds, he's just lying there, confused and disoriented, heaving in pain, unable to grasp what has happened. Then he shakes his head and immediately winces, one hand coming up to clutch at his sternum where he has been hit, his battle body already burnt to pieces.

"OW... SANS, BE - BE CAREFUL NEXT TIME! YOU… UGH… YOU HIT ME BY ACCIDENT!"

He coughs and wheezes, then tries to get back on his feet, only to get pinned down to the ground by your blue attack. He cries out in surprise as gravity intensifies around him, but forces himself up on his knees.

"OUCH! SANS, WHAT ARE YOU -"

Then he finally looks up and sees your face.

"S… s-sans?"

You're scared of how calm you sound.

"it's okay, papyrus. it's okay. it will be over soon. just stay there, okay? just stay where you are."

His eyesockets widen in shock as he realizes that you're engaged in battle. Still weighed down by the blue force field, he gives up his turn, making your job all the more easy. You send a bone straight through his spine and he screams.

"Brother! Brother, what are you doing? Are you sick?"

He doesn't fight back.

He never ever fought back.

His death was the slowest and most painful of them all. Even after you have massacred all of the Underground, even with the raw excitement at the prospect of a new kill pulsing hungrily in your soul, you still couldn't find it in yourself to hate him.

You move your hands, your eyes glowing, unable to take your pupils off the horrifying display in front of you, hearing Papyrus cry out helplessly again and again, and you feel nothing but pain.

No.

You feel something else.

Boredom.

"Sans! Sans, please stop! Whatever is hurting you, I'm sure we can fix it! Please!"

The strange chill comes back again and your hand trembles for a moment, but you quickly return to your senses. You can still force yourself to do this. It is nothing special. It is nothing out of the ordinary for you.

Once a murderer, always a murderer.

"i'm sorry. this must be done. for your sake."

"What - wh-why?"

"you don't have to know why. just -"

"STOP!"

Papyrus snaps his head when he hears the desperate, high-pitched cry. Frisk has finally scrambled out from the undergrowth and they're now stumbling toward you in the deep snow, their shirt torn, their face scratched and dirty. You turn toward them, your face frozen into a grinning mask.

"thought you'd join the show, buddy?"

"Sans, stop! This is - this is not you!"

This is me.

They try to grab your arm, only to get knocked back by a bone wall. They tumble back in the snow but get up immediately, making another attempt to get closer, crying out to you again.

"Sans, please! I know you think there's no hope, but that's not true! Please!"

You will teach them a lesson. You will make them see the truth.

"sorry, kid. close, but no cigar."

You turn back to Papyrus, who's been staring at the two of you numbly, weakened from his wounds, and steel yourself. You swing your hand, conjuring up a bone attack, the thin, jagged pieces aimed at your brother.

In a few moments, both of you will be free.

You slam down your fist, and -

"Wait -"

It's not even a moment, just a splinter in time. You only see a blue blur, followed by a sickening crack, an explosion of bones and snow and death.

Then nothing. A small waft of winter air, swaying the pine branches lightly. Heavy, painful panting, coming from somewhere ahead of you. The metallic smell of something dreadful.

"...Brother?"

Frisk is lying between you and Papyrus, face down, motionless, impaled by the projectiles. The snow around him is slowly turning into a bloody slush, red seeping into pristine white, darkening it, tainting it. (Blood has always fascinated you. So alien. So human.) Papyrus is looking on helplessly, his gloved hands come up to cover his mouth, his eyesockets wide with horror, turning back and forth between you and the child's corpse.

"What… Sans - what did you… what did you..."

You stagger for a moment as you bury your face in your palms, your entire body shaking with silent, choked laughter.

Now he knows. He knows what you're really like.

No matter how much he loves you. No matter how hard he tries to forget.

He will always know.

"...Sans?"

You finally gather the strength to look up, your ribcage still heaving from your attempts to contain your laughter. Papyrus is staring right at you, standing on the same spot, not daring to make a move. You see his face, the look in his eyes and you - you can't bear this for one more moment.

Just let it end already.

You flash your brother a smile, broken and empty.

"i'm sorry", you whisper, raising your hand for one last time.

"SANS!"

As you collapse in the snow, you sincerely hope that this time, there will be no waking up.