When Sans returned from a 'walk' with a limp, injured human in his arms, Toriel was understandably panicked. She whisked Frisk away in an instant, plucking them from Sans' arms and inspecting their injuries as she carried the small body towards the spare room. Sans had been using it the past couple of days, but it seemed he was getting evicted.

"This human is badly injured," Toriel said, laying them down on the bed.

"I found them lying on some flowers, I think they broke their fall, but they weren't moving," Sans explained.

Toriel fussed over Frisk, her paws glowing with white healing magic. "If you had not found them, I fear..." She trailed off, but the meaning of her words was clear.

"Are they gonna be okay?" Sans asked, genuinely concerned. If Frisk died because he wasn't fast enough…then he'd just have to reset. He had that power now, and if it would save the human he would use it.

"I believe so, but they must rest and I must heal them," Toriel said. Her attention was no longer on Sans, it was solely on the magic flowing from her paws and the small, broken body lying on her bed.

"I don't want to get in the way, I'll be outside."

Sans had questions, ones only Chara could answer, and he couldn't talk to her with Toriel in the room. Outside, in the hallway, he turned to her ever-present figure. The light in the house made it clear that she was slightly transparent, the colour of the wall distorting her own dark hues.

"How are you here?" Sans asked.

"You really are stupid, aren't you?" Chara asked, not waiting for a reply. "Every time that wimp 'falls' down here, the strength of their soul wakes me. It resonates with my own. Their determination, their hopelessness, all of it rings true with the person I was when I was alive."

Something about the way Chara said 'falls' sent shivers down Sans' spine. But at least he knew why Chara had waited until now to make an appearance. The determination that now belonged to Sans, coupled with Frisk's soul, in the same place, had woken her.

There wasn't a chance for further questions. Toriel emerged from the room, a definite slump in her posture, and smiled a tired smile towards Sans. Frisk was okay, then.

"The child will live," she said, taking a deep, slow breath. "But it is best we let them rest."

"You did good, Tori," Sans said, patting her hand with his own. It was the only part of her he could comfortably reach.

"Let us retire to the living room. Perhaps we could have some tea?" she asked, voice hopeful. It was clear she needed the tea more than Sans.

"You sit down, I'll make the tea," Sans offered. Toriel did not protest, and under other circumstances that would've worried Sans. But under other circumstances Sans would not have offered, because Toriel would not have been this tired.

Sans knew what magical over-exertion was like. He'd lived through that enough times fighting Frisk- no. Fighting Chara. At the reminder of just who he was now sharing his space with, Sans sent a glare in the first human's direction. Chara pulled a face halfway between a grimace and a frown in response, managing to look both childish and spiteful at the same time.

The kitchen was quickly becoming familiar to Sans now. He was hopeful that, in time, it would become even more so. The tea was simple to make; he had watched Toriel make it many times over the past few days. She just didn't seem to be happy unless she was doing something to take care of her guest, and Sans wasn't exactly complaining.

Once the kettle was boiled, it was a bit of guesswork how long he was supposed to let it brew. He did remember that Toriel liked hers with a small splash of milk and two sugars, he just hoped he hadn't somehow messed it up apart from that.

When he set the mug down in front of Toriel, she barely inspected it before lifting the cup to her lips and taking a careful sip. She didn't exactly have to worry about being burnt, her fire magic made sure of that, but nonetheless she was always careful when ingesting anything Sans' had made. He wondered if it was because she wasn't sure how it would taste, or there was something darker implied by her suspiciousness of strange foods.

"It's wonderful," she declared, taking another, longer sip.

Sans took a sip of his own, and came to the same conclusion. Not as good as Toriel's, and certainly not as good as ketchup, but it was still nice. Maybe in a couple days, once Frisk was a bit stronger, he could jump out to Grillby's and pick up a few bottles of ketchup to bring back. He had a feeling he was going to be here a while.

For all that Sans didn't know right now-and he hated, hated, not knowing-Sans was certain of one thing. Until Sans was sure that Frisk was really innocent, was really not going to kill all of them, he could not let them leave the Ruins.

The two monsters drank their tea in contemplative silence, Toriel's face a mask of poorly-hidden sadness. Sans didn't have to ask to know. He'd had conversations with Toriel about the other six. Maybe not in this timeline (Or maybe. He honestly couldn't remember), so even if she didn't remember, he certainly did.

"Tori, the kid's gonna be okay," he said.

Her face was drawn, and her eyes looked so…sad. Sans wanted to do something, anything, to make her eyes shine with the happiness he had witnessed over the past two days, but he knew there was nothing.

"What if they try to leave?" she whispered, barely managing to push the words out.

Sans shook his head. "You and I both know what'll happen. They can't get past both of us."

Toriel sighed, staring deeply into her now-empty cup, as if it held all the answers neither she nor Sans could give.

"Perhaps I should check on the child…" Toriel said, glancing towards the room where they now slept. She had to lean back awkwardly in her chair to see into the hallway, so much so that she nearly fell to the floor.

"I'll wait here, finish my tea," Sans said. His cup was still half-full, and he didn't want to look at Frisk right now. His mind was still struggling to catch up to the fact that he wasn't going to hand the kid over to Asgore, but protect them.

Toriel nodded, and stood with all the grace one would expect of a queen. Sans pretended he wasn't staring after her until she was out of sight down the hall, and even then listening to her surprisingly soft footsteps.

The moment Toriel screamed, Sans had teleported down the hall without even realising it. The bed was empty, the covers thrown carelessly to the floor. Toriel was pushing past Sans and running out to the stairs that led to the exit from the Ruins, but something told Sans it was already too late.

He made the jump down there. The doors had been heaved open just enough for a child to squeeze through. Beginning to panic, Sans took a shortcut outside and started running, actually running, following the small, shallow footprints left in the snow.

He should've known it wouldn't be as easy as catching up to Frisk and bringing them back to the Ruins. It seemed Undyne had decided to join Papyrus on guard duty for the day in Sans' absence, and Frisk had walked right up to their sentry station.

The kid was just standing in the snow as Undyne and Papyrus stared at them. Their entire body looked small and empty, their spine moulded to the curve of their hunched shoulders, their legs trembling as though they would give out at any moment.

Undyne materialised a spear, aiming it at the unmoving target. Frisk didn't even cry out.

With frantic motions Sans summoned the RESET button, and pressed a finger down against it without a second thought.