The brisk night air stings your nose, but you don't mind it that much. Sans' jacket is very warm, and he's pulled the fur-lined hood over your head, so you barely feel the cold. He never really seems to notice the weather; he sits on the branch next to you, his sneakers swinging freely over the drop, looking perfectly comfortable in just his shorts and turtleneck.

"wait for it…" He leans forward eagerly, and you turn your gaze back to the sky. There's not a cloud to be seen, nothing to block the view of the endless expanse of stars, and wherever you are, it's far enough from any habitation, human or monster, that there's no light to pollute the pristine night sky.

"I can't see anything," you whisper, fidgeting a little on the branch.

You both know that you're in no danger of falling, not unless Sans is totally asleep, but he puts his arm around you anyway out of habit, ensuring that you're not going anywhere. "easy there, squirmypants. just give it a minute." He nudges you, pointing at the moon hanging bright in the sky. "at least we know the moon's had enough to eat."

You look up at him, brows drawing together. "How do you know that?"

"because it's full," he says, and his grin brightens at your laugh. "come on kid, that was an easy one."

"Okay, okay," you say. "But do you know what the man in the moon likes to read?"

He tilts his head at you. "what?"

"Comet books!" you crow, kicking your feet and beaming as his laughter joins with yours.

"nice. you're getting pretty punny, kiddo. i'm proud of you."

"I learned from the best," you say.

He winks at you. "the bone-ifide real deal."

Still giggling, you snuggle into him, resting your head against the soft knit of his sweater and the inexplicable squishiness beneath. The kids at school don't believe you when you tell them you like his hugs. They all think he and Papyrus should be hard and cold, and you can't really explain to the human kids who are just starting to experience magic that yes, they feel like bones, but they feel like something else, too. Something soft, and warm, and full of calcium. You let out a long breath, and your eyes start to feel heavy. It's very late, and now you're really, really comfortable…

"hey." A bony finger prods your ribs, making you giggle and squirm. "don't quit on me now, buddy, it's just getting good. look."

You turn your gaze skyward and gasp, your hands gripping the arm he's got around your waist. A curtain of shimmering green light cuts its way across the sky like ghostly fire, flickering with echoes of pinks, and blues, and violets. "Oh," you breathe, staring in wonder at the lights. "The sky is dancing."

"thought you'd like it," he says, though he's looking up, too. "aurora bone-ealis."

You snicker, shaking your head. The hood amplifies the swishing his jacket makes when you move, and it souds really loud in the hush of the frozen countryside. "That's not what it's called. It's bore-ealis."

"oh, so that's how it is."

You turn to him in alarm, for his voice has gone strange. He's staring at you now, but there's no trace of the spirited glimmer in his eyes. Just endless dark. "Sans?" you whisper. "What's wrong?"

"you just humour us poor simple monsters 'till you get *bored,* is that it? what happens then? the anomalies start all over again?"

"No!" you reach for his hand, but he jerks his arm away, and its absence leaves you shivering in the cold. "Sans, you're not making sense."

"welp, i got news for you, human. i'm wise to you. And I'm not going to let it happen again."

"Sans-"

But you never get the chance to finish. His fingers lock onto the hood at your back, and you're not prepared for the sharp tug that follows. Before you can grab for the branch, before you can think, you're toppling back and falling. You scream, reaching for him, waiting for the blue fire to surround you and put an end to this horrible joke, but it never comes. He just watches you fall, his terrible grin bright against the dancing fire of the sky overhead as you plunge toward the rocks below.

You bolt upright, clutching the covers to your chest as your breath comes in ragged, hitching gasps. You struggle for breath, but it's like something's squeezing your heart, and you fight desperately for air. It's like you're drowning...

"whoa!" Sans pauses in your doorway on his way down the hall, looking into your bedroom with alarm. He drops the laundry basket he's carrying, and between one shuddering gasp and the next, he's standing next to you, rubbing your back. "easy there, kiddo. breath goes in and out - remember your science test. just breathe. you got two whole lungs to work with. you can do this."

Something in your chest eases just enough for you to finally draw a proper breath, and you gulp the air until you almost choke on it.

"there you go. nice and slow. i'd help, but i kinda come up short on the whole 'internal organs' thing. you gotta do this for me."

It's just absurd enough to make you smile, but it does the trick. Your seizing lungs relax, and though you're still trying hard to stop yourself from gasping, you are, at least, breathing. Sans lets out a relieved breath of his own, more than a little at odds with what he's just been saying, but Sans is a walking pile of contradictions in more ways than this, and you've gotten used to it.

You slowly release your grip on the blankets, wincing as your hands open enough to see the deep red welts that your nails have dug into your palms. Sans gives a sympathetic hiss through his teeth and sits next to you, taking your hands in his. A faint green glow flickers beneath the bones of his hands, and you look away, trying not to think of how much it reminds you of dancing lights in the sky.

The pain in your hands begins to fade, though, and you're grateful for that. Sans isn't nearly as good at this as other members of the family - he usually ends up feeding you when you're not feeling well - but these are very little hurts, and his little magic is more than enough. What works even better is the the fact that he cares enough to do it at all. You snuggle up close enough to rest your head on his shoulder, and you sneeze. He's wearing his favourite sweater from Mom, the one that says "cutie pie" on it, and for all that it's really soft, it smells strongly of cinnamon, and it tickles your nose when you're not ready for it.

"wups, sorry. forgot about that," he says, and winks at you. "guess I'm lucky i don't *nose* what i'm missing."

You groan, but you're smiling. "Saaaans."

"no, but when you think about it, it makes scents."

A laugh escapes you before you can stop it. "Sans, no."

"sans, yes. you know me, kid, i'm just a scent-imental guy-"

"Oh my gosh noooo!"

"-and i'll sniff out-"

"Noooo!"

"-any chance I can to-"

"SMELL-EBRATE!" You finish before he can, raising your arms triumphantly into the air.

He freezes, staring at you. "...did you just poach my line?"

You tense, grinning in anticipation. "I won by a nose," you boast, your hands still over your head.

"welp. only one possible response to that one. you brought this on yourself, kiddo."

You squeal and try to throw yourself off the bed, but he's too fast. He snags your pyjamas and tugs you back, and you shriek with laughter as his fingers find the most ticklish spots on your ribs. You wriggle, weak from laughing, but he's relentless. Not that he always was. The first few times, he actually let you go, until you stopped just out of his range and looked at him expectantly. He understands the game now, and he knows you well enough to know when you're done with it.

Not that you're anywhere close to it, yet. He's reducing you to a helpless puddle of giggles, but you're not out of tricks. His jacket would have been way too thick for you to pull this off, but the sweater has holes in the knit, and you reach out, straining, until your fingers poke through at his elbow to tickle the bone beneath.

He yelps, a burst of laughter escaping him before he can stop it, and you start in earnest. "hey, no fair!" he protests between snickers, redoubling his efforts on you. Before long, you've reduced each other to sagging, breathless heaps, and you lie together, panting to get your breath back. Which is when you realize that you're no longer having any trouble breathing at all.

"man," he sighs. "i never should have showed you where the funny bone is."

"Pfff," you wave your hand. "No way you'd let me get less than perfect on a science test."

"mmm. you got a point there. i'm gonna have to have a talk with tori about your curriculum."

"Careful," you say, tilting your head to look up at him from where it's pillowed on the squashiest part of his tummy. "You're starting to sound like ."

"pam!" he growls, shaking his fist. "aww, low blow, kid." But he's grinning, more than usual, as he rests his hand on your head. "so. feeling better?"

You nod and flop over so that you can hug him properly. It's funny how different it is to hug Sans and Papyrus. Both of them are soft and warm and cuddly, but hugging Papyrus is a bit like hugging an overstuffed teddy bear, while Sans is more like a marshmallow. But a nice, comfy marshmallow. "It was a scary dream. But I know it's not real."

"wanna help me fold this laundry and tell me all about it?"

Nodding, you roll off the bed and bounce to your feet, reaching out to help him as he sits up with a groan. He follows you as you bound ahead, and you struggle to pick up the brimming laundry basket before he catches up and plucks it out of your hands. "I had a dream that we were in the sky-watching tree, but then you went all funny, and…" You trail off, looking back at him as you reach the top of the stairs. Maybe you don't want to talk about it. But he's looking at you with sympathy as he sets down the laundry and places his hands on your shoulders.

"and i did something bad?"

You nod, biting your lip. "But it was just a bad dream. Like those other ones, right?"

"right, kiddo."

Satisfied, you turn to the stairs, and gasp, grabbing for Sans' hand. The stairs are gone. There's… There's nothing beyond them. It's not dark… Dark is something. This is… Is nothing. This is something that never existed in the first place. Like a memory, not forgotten, but erased before it ever had the chance to form. Tears are streaming down your face, though you're not sure when they started, or why, and you find yourself shaking so hard you can barely stand.

"Darker, yet darker…" you whisper.

"well. This is interesting."

The strangeness in his voice is all the warning you have. Before you can turn, a sharp shove knocks you from your feet, and you tumble, screaming, into the void. The last thing you see is Sans' grin before the nothing begins to unravel you at the seams, and the world forgets you were ever there.

You wake violently, choking on tears, with a bony hand shaking your shoulder. Coughing and sobbing, you lurch out of the tangle of blankets and latch onto Sans, burying your head against his hoodie. After a startled moment, he draws you closer, cradling your head against his shoulder as you cry.

"wow, looks like that one was a doozy." His hold on you tightens as you sob harder, and he desperately tries to pet the tears away. "shhh. easy there, pal. i got you. i'm here. you're okay." Slowly, the sobs begin to ebb, and he stops petting your hair so that he can hug you with both arms. "it's okay now, frisk. you were just having a bad dream."

Your fingers tighten on his hoodie, and you raise your head to look up at him. "Is this real? Are you real?"

"'course i'm real, buddy. i'm the bone-fied real deal!"

"...you already made that joke," you murmur.

He blinks, and though his grin never changes, something of a shadow falls over it. "did I? huh, that's funny. can't remember doing it. can't say it comes as a surprise though." He winks at you. "i am a total bone-head."

You smile at the joke, though it's a small, wobbly smile. It's the best you can do. There's no laughter in you right now. Sans sighs, resting his chin on your head as you hide your face against his shirt again. "man, this one really did a number on you, huh?" When you can't find anything to say in response, he eases his hold on you and gently wipes your face, which is still streaked with tears. "want to come downstairs with me? i can make you some of that warm milk with the cinnamon and honey in it. you don't have to go back to sleep again till you're ready."

You nod again, and he slips off your bed, holding out his hand to help you down. When it's this dark, the light from your nightlight doesn't do very much, and the shadows stretch their fingers toward you. You hold tight to his hand as he leads you toward the stairs, clinging as the memory of endless darkness swirls up to meet you, but when you reach the landing, they're the same old stairs, the wall down covered with pictures of your family and friends. Sans doesn't turn any of the lights on as you go, but you know it's because he doesn't want to wake Papyrus up. He'll do it without a second thought if you ask him to, but both of you tend to want to let Papyrus sleep if you can. He gets so little sleep as it is, and you always hate admitting that you have nightmares to Papyrus. It's not that he's bad at handling it - on the contrary, he's always one of the most comforting people to have at your side when you wake up crying. But you always feel like you're ruining something when you do it. Like leaving footprints in new, unbroken snow. Silly, maybe, but you don't have to explain it to Sans. You're pretty sure he feels the same way.

He does turn the lights on when you reach the kitchen, though, and he boosts you up onto the counter so you can be close as he makes you your milk. He understands this part, too, the way other members of your family don't. Like Mom - she would have stayed with you, comforting and loving and wonderful, but she'd never have let you out of bed this late - or early, to be a little more accurate. She doesn't understand that sometimes, the thought of going back to sleep is even more terrifying than the nightmare, because the dreams are waiting for you there. Sans, on the other hand, always knows when it's bad enough that getting up is the better option. The longer you're up, the farther you get from the dream, and the less likely you are to wander back into it when you fall asleep again. If you fall asleep at all.

"Sans?" you ask, and your voice sounds very small.

"yeah, kid?"

"How come you're up, too?"

He grins at you as he adds cinnamon to the warming milk on the stove. "papyrus is on me to recalibrate my puzzles again. this seems like as good a time as any to do it." He sighs. "why we need puzzles in the front yard is beyond me. it just confuses the poor mail guy."

You don't think that's all there is to it, but you think about the puzzles as you drum your heels against the cupboards. "You know how that news guy followed me and Artie home that one time? Maybe we should make some puzzles to get them to stick to the Embassy like they promised, in case any of them tries that again."

"heh. y'know, i really like that." He stands on his toes so he can reach high enough to ruffle your hair. "nice one, kid. our bro is gonna love it."

Your smile falters as a strange popping interrupts you before you can respond. You glance toward the source of the sound, and let out a terrified cry. Half the stove is in flames, and not the fun kind like when you cook with Papyrus and Undyne. These are huge, and hungry, and spreading fast.

"Sans!" you scream, pointing.

He looks over at the fire. "huh," iss all he says.

You drop from the counter, your feet skidding on the floor, and you bruise your knees as you go down hard. In another instant, you push yourself up again, running for the supply of fire extinguishers you keep by the kitchen door. But as you pull the first one off the wall, it feels strangely light, and when you look at the gauge on the top, it shows that the extinguisher is empty. You reach for the next one, but a glance shows you that every single fire extinguisher you have is useless.

It's getting harder to breathe now, and to see. The smoke stings your eyes, sending tears down your face, and you cough as you run back to Sans. "We gotta go!" You tug on his sleeve, but he doesn't move. Desperate, you reach for the fire, trying to remember what Toriel and Asgore have been teaching you, but the only fire magic you've ever been able to learn hasn't done anything more than set a small pile of kindling alight. Your attempts to control this one only seem to make it angry, and you draw your hand back with a cry, holding it to your chest as blisters begin to form.

"Sans," you beg, and the tears on your face aren't just from the smoke any more. "Sans, please! We have to go. I don't want to leave you!"

He just looks at you.

The fire is spreading faster. If you don't do something soon, you won't be able to reach the door any more. Your frantic gaze darts around the room, searching for something, anything to help, but nothing comes to you. In the corner, the fire catches your drawings on the fridge, and you watch as your favourite picture, the one of you and Sans and Papyrus, blackens, and curls, and falls into ash.

You feel sick, crying so hard that even without the smoke you probably wouldn't be able to catch your breath, but you can't wait any longer. With a last, agonized look at Sans' frozen smile, you turn and run for the door.

You don't get far. Your arm jerks hard, your feet slipping out from under you as you crash to the floor, and when you look up, you see that Sans' hand is locked around your wrist. "No!" You yank on your hand, but he's holding fast, like he's turned to stone. "Sans, we gotta run. Let go! Please! Please!"

He doesn't say anything. Doesn't move. Just stares at you, distant and uncaring, as the fire reaches for you both.

You lurch awake, sobbing as you fight to untangle yourself from your sweat-soaked blankets. "No!" You can't even remember what day it's supposed to be anymore, or what house you're supposed to be waking up in. Everything is jumbled and confused, a mess of memories and images and you can't remember which ones are real and which are the dream. You stumble blindly as you fall out of bed, not caring where you're going as long as it's away. "No no no no no no…"

You collide with something soft but impossible to move, and you fall back onto the carpet. Blinking through your tears, you find Sans standing over you, reaching for you with a skeletal hand.

"whoa, there, buddy. what-"

"No!" You swat at his hand and he recoils, staring at you in shock. "You're not real! This isn't real!"

"...of course I'm real, pal. you're just having a-"

"No!" you yell again, knotting your hands in your tangled hair as you shake your head. "You always say that, but I keep waking up! This isn't real!"

"don't worry, kid," he says, winking at you. "i'm the bone-fied-"

"Stop it!" You grab one of your slippers from the floor and hurl it toward him. He dodges, faster than you're used to seeing him move, and it sails past him to strike the mirror over your dresser. As you watch in shock, the glass cracks, splintering your reflection into a hundred pieces. You stare at your hands, horrified. You didn't mean to do that. You didn't mean to break anything. That's not like you at all. "I'm sorry," you whisper. "I was scared, I… Sans, I'm sorry."

He looks at the broken mirror and shakes his head with a sigh. "i'm sorry too, kid. we tried, but maybe all those humans are right. maybe monsters just aren't meant to raise a human."

"I don't…" You look at him in confusion, your heart beating against your ribs like a hummingbird. "Sans, what are you saying?"

"we tried our best, but you're just too much trouble. we're sending you back."

"No!" You push yourself to your knees, but as Sans moves out of your doorway, you freeze. In the shadows beyond, creatures in blue uniforms turn toward you, the lights on their heads blinding you as the beams strike your eyes. Sans gestures toward you, and the monsters advance, their gloved hands reaching toward you to take you away.

They're sending you away.

They don't want you any more.

You scream, pushing yourself away from the creatures, but there's nowhere to go. You come up hard against the edge of the bed, but those gloved hands are still reaching. They're going to take you back to the place you only remember in dreams. The place where no one wants a broken little kid like-

"Oh," you breathe, and the monsters freeze. You look at Sans, equally motionless, his eyes just pools of deep, featureless shadow. "Oh, I understand now. This isn't what I'm scared of any more." You turn and look at the splintered mirror. "It's you."

Your reflection rolls its eyes. Don't pretend that you're not scared of this. You can't lie to me.

You cross your arms. "You're wrong, Katie."

Am I? Giving you a grin without warmth, Katie grasps the fractured edges of the mirror and pushes through it, dropping down to the carpet next to you. I don't think I am. I think you're lying. You know that only bad kids lie. What would Mom say?

"She'd say I don't have anything to be scared of," you answer. "Yeah, I worry. I always worry. But I know that they'd never send me away like that. They wouldn't do that." Your expression softens. "Not even to you."

Katie's face twists into a mask of pained fury. Don't! Don't try that stuff on me! I can see right through you. You're so fake, you know that? They don't care about you. They just put up with you because the nicey-nice act makes them think it's easy. They won't want you when they know how messed up you really are.

But now that you recognize it for what it is, the tantrum doesn't faze you. You look up at Sans, still frozen next to the door, and shake your head. "He wouldn't do that."

Ugh, wake up, Frisk! He'll be the first one to kill you if he ever thinks that you're going to be… To be….

"Like you?" You nod. "I know. I'm glad."

Katie stares at you, eyes wide in shock. You're…what?

You fight back the urge to grin. At least Katie doesn't know everything. "I'm glad. It's not an act, Katie. I don't want to hurt anyone. I know I've been through stuff that makes people different sometimes, and want to be sure that if that ever… ever changes me, that he'll stop me from hurting everyone else."

With a howl of rage, Katie shoves you and lurches off the carpet as you fight for balance. Katie storms over to Sans, ignoring your calls to come back, and with a quick glance to make sure you're watching, kicks him hard in the knee. You cry out as the leg breaks and Sans topples over, but for all the reaction he gives, he may as well be a statue. That doesn't stop you from scrambling over to him and holding him close, glaring over his head at Katie, daring them to just try it again.

Would you listen to yourself? You really think the world would be better if they killed everyone who didn't act the way they thought they should?

"Of course not," you say, fighting for calm. "But I'm not like other kids. I know how to kill monsters. I spent so long learning how to fight them…" You look down at Sans, and your eyes sting. "Just because I choose not to, doesn't mean I wouldn't be very, very good at it. I still have all the weapons from the Underground, and they have a magic of their own now. I may stink at magic lessons, but even I can feel that much. After all this time, after all those… Those reloads… I could wipe out every single monster if I wanted to." Your throat tightens, and you scrub the tears from your eyes. "...you taught me that."

For a moment, something in that mask of fury eases. If you didn't know better, you'd swear it was something like guilt lurking behind the other child's eyes. Katie drops back down to the carpet, facing you and Sans. But I don't understand. You know what it's like to hurt. How can you not want them to hurt, too?

You look down at that familiar, beloved grin, and hug Sans close to you. "Because I want to protect them all. I don't want anyone to ever hurt like we did ever again."

It was the wrong thing to say. An ugly expression twist's Katie's features, and they snarl. Of course, it's always about them, isn't it? You are so stupid, Frisk! Sooner or later, they'll get tired of you. They don't care.

"No," you say, shaking your head slowly, but your voice falters. You hate what Katie's saying, but the words aren't any different than the whispers at the back of your mind that have been there since before you Fell.

Katie smiles slowly, leaning in closer. Admit it, Frisk. You don't really care either. You're just afraid of being alone.

Your breath catches, and your gaze drops to Sans. Slowly, a smile to match Katie's spreads across your face. Katie thinks they've won, you can tell by the triumphant look they give you as they reach for Sans. But before they can touch him, you jerk him away. Katie blinks, and you can tell they realize they've made a mistake.

They can play on your own doubts and fears as much as they want. But the one thing they should never, ever do is question how much you love your new family. Your anger at the very thought… it fills you with determination. Your eyes narrow, and you glare over Sans' head.

"You're wrong, Katie," you say. "I'm not going to let you hurt any of them. I'm not like you."

Katie stares at you in shock for a frozen moment before surging to their feet. In their wake, wind tears through the room, whipping through your hair and tugging at your sleeves. How can you say that? You gasp as your soul tears its way free to hang before you. Katie's soul is there too, a twin to yours, two hearts beating in perfect time as Katie stands before you, fists clenched in defiance. We're the same!

"We grew out of the same seed," you correct, your eyes stinging from the whipping of your hair. "But we branched out differently. I grew a different way."

Oh my god, will you stop with the stupid garden metaphors! If I have to listen to any more of them, I'm going to be sick!

"Then go away!" Your grip on Sans slips, and you clutch at him frantically. "Just leave us alone!"

In response, the wind dies, and the sudden silence is deafening. You don't like the way Katie is smiling, and you tighten your grip on Sans.

Okay, then, Katie says. I'll give you what you want.

The light is dying. You shudder as the shadows touch you, but not even the strange monsters still frozen in the doorway make it safe. One by one, their lights wink out as the darkness swallows them, and the void creeps steadily toward you. "Stop it, Katie!"

I'm just doing what you wanted. Poor little Frisk. All alone in the dark.

"Katie!" you cry, just before the light vanishes. You squint, and strain, but there's no relief to the endless, featureless black. Shaking, you try to slow the pounding of your heart, refusing to let yourself cry. You can't fall apart. Sans needs you.

Sans…

Your arms are empty.

Panic flares within you. Crying out, you grope blindly through the dark, seeking desperately for the touch of cloth, or bone, and finding nothing. Fear gives way to fury, and you rise to your feet, fists clenched at your sides. "Katie!" you scream into the nothing. "This isn't fair. Bring him back!"

I thought you wanted me to go away. Tch. So indecisive. Make up your mind, Frisk. Here, is this what you want?

Reality shifts, and you stumble into golden light. Blinking back the tears as your eyes water from the sudden change in brightness, your stomach flutters as you realize that you know this light. Your hand drops slowly to your side as you take in the golden corridor that stretches out before you. This place… It once filled you with determination. Your head lifts, and you turn quickly toward the end of the hall. There, hands jammed nonchalantly into his pockets, is the familiar face that gave you strength the last time you stood here together.

"Sans…" A smile of joy and relief spreading across your face, you take a step toward him.

He sighs, closing his eyes with a small shake of his head. "welp. sorry, old lady. this is why i never make promises."

Something is wrong. Something is horribly, horribly wrong. A sound tears from your throat as your soul drags free from your chest, your voice raw with wordless despair and betrayal. That seems to surprise him, for he hesitates just for a moment before he continues. "it's a beautiful day outside. birds are singing, flowers are blooming... on days like these, kids like you…"

Your eyes widen. You… you know these words. You've heard them before in the depths of your nightmares. But your nightmares have never felt like this. "Sans, wait, please-"

"Should be burning in hell."

The air around you tingles, and training and memory kick in. You throw yourself to the side, tucking into a roll as the hallway behind you vanishes into a searing beam of light. But your soul is heavy, too heavy, and before you can finish your final jete, your foot catches hard on the edge of one of the bones that erupt from the tiles around you. Your arm blisters and burns as it grazes the light pouring from the terrible, twisted skull that answers Sans' command. Again and again you dodge, twisting and leaping, as your best friend tries to kill you.

Finally, the initial barrage ends, leaving you on your knees, battered but determined.

"huh," he says. "always wondered why people never use their strongest attack first."

You struggle to your feet, raising a hand. "But I'm not-"

Before you can get another word in edgewise, the attacks begin again. He's driving you too hard, and every time you manage to draw a breath, that blue fire flares across your soul and he slams you into another wall, or pillar, or the ceiling, or the floor, driving the air from your lungs. It's all you can do to stay one step ahead of his attacks, and you're tiring, fast.

Nothing you've been through has prepared you for anything like this.

You keep pressing forward, trying to get to him, to make him stop long enough to listen, but every time you get even remotely close, one of those horrible, twisted skulls pops up again and drives you back, and even the sound of the beam makes your burned hand scream in remembered agony. At least he's starting to show some signs of wearing down too, his skull beaded with sweat and his sides heaving as he pants.

Not so loveable now, is he? Katie lounges against a wall, arms folded as she watches. Still think this is what you want?

"Yes," you hiss through teeth clenched against the pain.

Katie frowns at you. You are so stubborn.

"You're only just figuring this out? Same seed, remember."

"uh, kid? you wanna focus here? there's some really great heroic monologuing going to waste if you're just going to stand there babbling to yourself. you're not even listening. rude." He shrugs. "then again, it's been clear for a while that you're nuttier than a basket of fruitcakes."

You're blue again, but prepared this time, and you manage to avoid the next barrage by the skin of your teeth. Sans breaks off his talk about timelines and anomalies, and scratches his head as he watches you struggle to catch your breath. "look, it'd be real helpful if you could, uh, fight back or something here. i'm starting to feel kinda bad about this, and i really can't afford to go soft right now. so why don't you put some backbone into it, huh?"

"Because I don't wanna fight you!" Finally, the words make it out of you, pouring out alongside the tears that are streaming down your face. He seems to notice them for the first time and takes a step back, freeing a hand from his pocket to hold in front of him as though warding you off.

"hey. somewhere in there. i can feel it. there's a glimmer of a good person inside of you. the memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing. someone who, in another time, might have even been... a friend?" You nod frantically, and he winks at you. "c'mon, buddy, let's forget all of this, ok?"

"Okay," you choke through your tears, sagging against a pillar. Your hand is on fire and every bone in your body is bruised, if not cracked entirely, but for the first time in this awful place, you're finally seeing the real Sans again. "Okay."

He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh of relief. "... you're sparing me? finally. buddy. pal. i know how hard it must be... to make that choice. to go back on everything you've worked up to. i want you to know... i won't let it go to waste. .." He opens his arms and winks again. "c'mere, pal."

You hurt so bad, and you only understand half of what he's saying, and getting up from the pillar seems like more work than flying right now, but he's standing there, waiting, and your heart yearns so desperately for the familiar comfort of that hug. So you heave yourself away from the pillar and stumble toward him, nearly falling the last few steps as you topple into his arms. He catches you and draws you close, and though even that sends a new wave of pain through your battered, aching bones, you throw your arms around him as you bury your head against his shoulder and sob.

But though your eyes are closed, a light still burns through them. Your soul… It hasn't gone back where it should.

On the heels of that thought comes a short, sharp shock, and your head jerks back as something rips through your body. You can feel the wet, tearing sensation as flesh and bone part, and you stare, uncomprehending, as the world twists and turns, and a pool of red spreads out beneath you.

It's… It's bone. Dozens of bones pierce your body in too many places, holding you in fixed suspension above the floor. For a wonder, you don't really feel the pain, just an icy cold starting deep in the pit of your stomach and spreading further with every second that the red pool below you grows. That's… That's from you. You panic, struggling to breathe, but the bone passing through half your chest makes that very difficult.

You're drowning.

Sans just stands there, watching. "geeettttttt dunked on!" he crows.

Oh. Oh, this is too good. We can't just leave it at this. Katie kneels next to you, hands clasped in glee. Let's see how many others we can find to come and play!

You blink, and the hall is full of Sanses. Most of them look like the one you know, though some of them are radically different, and a ripple runs through them as they catch sight of you. The crowd shifts, forming a ring around you, standing and watching you Sans who did this to you stares at them in surprise, and shrugs. "well, this is new."

"huh. you finally did it. nice." comes a voice from somewhere in the crowd.

"aw man. i always hate this stuff. why do we have to keep seeing it?"

"never could get past the special attack. kept falling asleep. little punk always managed to get out and end it."

"do you gotta keep 'em there like that? just throw a few more bones and get it done."

"naw, forget that. this isn't nearly enough to make up for all the stuff they did. they desreve this. think about him."

Your fingers twitch, the only part of you that isn't completely frozen. The red pool they're lying in keeps them warm. Slowly, you move your leaden hand, your finger tracing over the golden tiles and leaving a red streak behind.

"aw, now that's just sad. like drawing us a little heart'll make up for it all? colour me heart-broken. you shoulda thought of that a long time ago. dirty brother killer."

"...no. It says less-than-three..."

The last voice, though so much quieter than the others, drops like a bombshell into the din. Though your vision is beginning to grey, you watch another ripple spread through the sea of Sanses as one of them shoves his way past the others, knocking one or two to the ground in his haste. He freezes when he sees you, and then he's moving, so fast, skidding across the floor on his knees as he reaches you. "frisk? kiddo? is that… oh, god… no...nononono…."

He takes your hand, and the ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of your cracked lips. Skeleton hands. Soft, and warm, and full of calcium.

"wait, *frisk*-?"

"-did he say-?"

"-there's no way that-"

Your name spreads in another set of ripples, and the Sanses begin to separate, drifting on a tide of whispers. Each one of the hundreds of grins is identical, yet each one reveals something different. Some of them are downright happy as they take in what's been done to you. And others… Others are starting to look very upset.

The one holding your hand is still talking, his hand moving uselessly on yours, stroking the only part of you that isn't broken. "god, kid, just hang on, okay? stay determined. we'll… we'll figure something out. just hold on till we can get tori, and… no, wait, this is too early to… but we can… frisk, can you hear me? c'mon buddy, stay with me, just a little longer…"

Some of the other Sanses drift closer, reaching out toward the Sans who's holding your hand. More whispers. More ripples in the sea.

"maybe we can-"

"-if we make 'em blue, we could lift-"

"-must have a hot cat in here somewhere-"

"-if we work together-"

But the ripples crash and break upon some of the other Sanses, who fire back with words of their own.

"-are you forgetting-?"

"-way too dangerous to-"

"-have to end this now, before-"

They push back, jostling each other as they reach for you. And then, just like that, the Sanses are fighting. Dust rains down from the ceiling as tremors rock the hall, the crack of bone against bone ringing like thunder in the air as half the Sanses try to strike you down and the other half turns them away.

The only one not fighting is the one still holding your hand.

Carefully, very gently, he brushes your matted hair away from your face. "frisk, please. please listen. this is…i'm not gonna lie, kiddo, this is bad, but you got this covered, right? you just gotta reset." You blink up at him in horror, and he shushes you softly, stroking your hair as best he can, trying desperately not to hurt you. "i know… i know i said… but you gotta do this for me, frisk." He winks at you. "hey, we've got practice now, right? what's a do-over of a couple years in the grand scheme of things. we can get back to where we were, no problem. it'll be okay. just reset. please, frisk. ? ? ?"

Aww, this is so touching. Katie crouches next to you, peering over Sans' shoulder. A little late for it, though. Too bad.

Despite the pain, despite the bubbling in your lungs, despite the cracks beginning to ghost across your soul, you tear your eyes from Sans' face to meet Katie's gaze, and you smile. You can't speak any longer, but you don't need to now. I win.

Katie's triumphant expression falters. What do you mean, you win?

You've spent all this time trying to convince me he doesn't really care, but Sans is asking me to reset. Your grin broadens. You can hear Sans's voice growing increasingly frantic, but you only have the energy left for one thing, and your focus is on Katie. *Sans.* Is asking me to *reset.*

Fury breaks across Katie's face, darkening it like a storm. Nuh-uh! Once you reset, he's not gonna remember why. He'll just know you did it, and he'll hate you.

I didn't say I'll do it. Sans is screaming your name now, and Katie's just staring, but you don't feel much any more. It's still getting harder to breathe, and you can't see very well, and the sounds of the fight around you are growing farther and farther away, but you're not scared. You twitch your fingers, doing your best to hold onto Sans, trying to reassure him as best you can. I made a promise. And when I'm gone, I'll still have won.

No! No no no! You're such a browner, I know you're gonna reset. You always do what you're told! You'll do this too. I know you. You will. And I'll win.

You just smile, trying to ignore the broken sounds coming from Sans. This is important. You have to see this through. You still don't understand. I do what I'm told because I want to. And when I don't… You'd laugh if you could. I'm...very...determined.

Katie's eyes narrow, and there is nothing in the deep, crimson depths of their eyes any longer but pure, undisguised loathing. You can't win if you don't get to finish.

Something flashes in Katie's hand. Your eyes widen, and your reflexive gasp sends a ripple of agony flaring across your chest, the air bubbling in your lungs. You jerk against the bones pinning you in place, desperate, and Sans leans forward, his voice raw as he pleads with you, attempting to hold you still.

There's no time. You have no breath to call a warning. There's a flash, a flare of crimson, and Sans is staring down at the jagged line across his chest. He raises a trembling hand to it, and it comes away red. He lets out a small, rueful laugh.

".. so... guess that's it, huh? ... just... i'm so sorry, kid. i... i tried. i'll see you at grillby's real soon. me and papyrus… we'll save you a seat."

If you had air in your lungs, you'd be screaming. All you can do is cling fast to his hand, but in another moment, it crumbles beneath your touch, leaving you holding a handful of dust. He's looking at you as his body dissolves around him, his eyes as unshuttered as they've ever been, and what you can read in their depths… you can't believe that you ever let Katie, even for a minute, make you doubt how much he cares. He raises his other hand, reaching to wipe your tears away, but the hand vanishes before it can reach you. In another moment, he's gone.

There's nothing left. As the darkness closes in around you, you sag in your prison of bones, and as your vision fades, you refuse to give Katie the satisfaction of looking up. You keep your eyes fixed on your drawing, the one bright spot in the darkness as your soul shatters and everything around you turns to dust.

3

"Katie? Katie, wake up, honey. You're having a bad dream."

You jerk against the sweat-soaked blankets, batting away the hands shaking you. "Don't call me-"

Freezing in place, you stare up at the two figures standing over you. The soft glow from your night light falls across them, illuminating the last faces you ever thought to see. "Mom?" you breathe. "...Dad?"

Your mother sits next to you, hooking her long, dark hair behind her ear as she bends to give you a kiss. "There you are, sweetie. You had us worried."

It… it's all been a dream? This whole time, it was just a wonderful, terrible dream? Your lip quivers, and the tears course down your face. Your mother gives a cry of alarm, and your Father sits next to her as they both draw you into their arms. You cling tightly to them, hiding your face against them as you weep, washing out all those long years of pain, and grief, and heartbreak. They're here. They're right here, and you're never, ever letting them go again.

"I missed you guys s-so much," you hiccup through your sobs.

"We've been right here, little Frisk," Dad soothes, holding you closer and kissing the top of your head. "Gosh, that must have been some dream."

Nodding, you wipe your eyes and look up at him, drinking in the sight of him. You forgot how warm his smile was. How it always made you feel that no matter how bad things were, everything would turn out okay. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

"Of course you can," Mom says, and you shift your gaze to her. Mom's eyes are the same shade of brown as yours. You forgot that, too.

You sniffle, but your tears are already starting to dry. Mustering your bravest smile, you raise a hand to pat your mother's cheek. "I love you," you whisper.

"We love you too," Mom replies, and you let your hand fall away.

Like chalk left too long in the rain, your mother's face smears where you've touched it.

Adrenaline pours like icewater into your veins, and you reach up in horrified dismay, your fingers brushing, trying to fix what you've done. But with every touch, you only make things worse. In trying to fix things, your mother's eye vanishes beneath your clumsy hands. Her nose. The corner of her mouth. Sobbing, you reach for Dad, desperately seeking help, and scream when, instead of his hand, your fingers find his face instead, obliterating his features in one clumsy swoop.

Oops. Now you've done it.

You whirl, fists clenching in rage. "Katie, what did you do?"

But Katie just laughs, flopping down in your beanbag chair and picking up Mr. Snuffles, one finger flicking his curly trunk. Oh, I didn't do anything this time. This is all you.

"It's not!" you sob. It's only gotten worse. Their faces have smeared and melted into shapeless, featureless masks. "I would never do this!"

Poor, stupid little Frisk. You can't have it both ways. You made your choice. Katie waves a hand toward your parents. They're not moving any more, frozen in the same positions they were in when your careless hands wiped them away. You wanted your new family, and you've got 'em. But there's a price. You've only got room for so much. Something had to go.

"No," you whisper. "No, you're…" But you trail off, a pressure around your chest building, making it hard to breathe. No matter how hard you try, even though it was a few minutes ago, you can't remember what their faces looked like before you erased them. They were right here, but every memory has the same blank faces.

Geez Frisk. What kind of monster forgets their own parents?

Frantic, you reach for them, but your parents are gone. Only shapeless blobs of wax remain.

Deep within you, a storm begins to build, growing fast, swirling around inside you like a until you can't stand it any longer. You're screaming, tearing your own throat raw, unable to look away from the consequences of your carelessness. You can't. You can't lose them. Not again. This is your fault. Your fault. Something shifts behind your heart, and you find yourself reaching, taking hold of reality, and beginning to pull.

Over the storm breaking within the room around you, over the sound of your own screams, all you can hear is Katie's wild laughter.

You're still screaming, but there's a hand on your shoulder, shaking you so hard you can barely see.

"-dammit, kid! !"

Your blurred vision clears, and the ghost of a grin hangs before you, bright beneath the endless black holes of the eyes above them. Still screaming, you smack the hand away, skittering backward until you run out of bed. He gasps, reaching for you, but you're already falling, toppling off the edge of the bed. You hit hard, cracking your skull against the nightstand, but you're already moving, your fingers scrabbling against the floor in your haste to pull yourself under the bed.

Once you're there, your screams falter and die, and you curl up into a ball, pressing your head against your knees as you sob.

For a long time, nothing happens. There's no sound. No other child beside you. No earthquakes, or creatures, or phantom winds. You almost, almost let yourself believe that you're awake this time. Almost. But the faces in your memory are still a featureless blur, and you can't let yourself believe that this time it's real.

There's a soft creaking of the bedsprings above you, and as you lift your head just enough to see the other side of the bed, a pair of slippered feet drops over the edge. The rest of Sans quickly follows, and he slides down to until he's on the floor, his back resting against the bed. Slowly, he draws his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them. You can't see his face. You can figure out if you're happy or distressed by that fact.

"...so. that one must have been a doozy, huh?"

Your breath hitches, tearing at your raw throat. Sans beginst to move, but as the pitch of your crying rises in response, he freezes, and settles ack where he was. He waits, motionless, as you weep, and you're happy to let him do so, until a little too much time passes, and a soft, nagging voice at the back of your head wonders if he still can move.

You draw a stuttering breath, and bite your lip, wrestling with the desire to know. "S-sans?"

"yeah, kiddo?"

You close your eyes, scrubbing at them with the back of your hand. "Are-are you r-really real?"

"'course i am, buddy. head to phalanges. one-hundred percent real skele-fun."

He didn't say bone-ified.

A small sound escapes you, equal parts laughter and despair, and Sans lets out a quiet moan in response. "pal, you go on feeling whatever you need to feel, but you're really starting to worry me. can you tell me what's going on?"

You sniffle, curling further into your miserable ball as a tangle of feelings snarls inside you. "L-let me s-see your eyes," you manage to get out.

"...sure, frisk." He slowly lists sideways until he thumps onto the floor. With a grunt of exertion, he rolls until he's looking under the bed at you. Then, he waits.

The grin is as familiar as ever, and the friendly glints flicker deep within his eyes, breaking up the endless field of black. It's hard - so hard - but you're fairly sure that he's right. He's real. This is real. Your heart cries out inside you, aching so badly that you almost think that the bones are back again. You wince, and your hand drops to your chest, searching.

"nothing there, kid," he says, gently. You blink, raising your gaze to him, and he lifts the edge of his jacket. "nothing here, either, if it was one of those ones. in case you were worried."

You were, now that he mentions it, and you let out a long breath. "I thought… I kept waking up, and every time I thought it was for real. How do I… How do I know…?"

"ohhh, it was one of *those*, huh? man, I hate those. i don't have a real good answer for you there, pal, but i once heard you can't read in a dream. not sure how much science is actually behind that - huh, wonder if alphys knows - but… here."

He digs out his phone and holds it out to you. When you don't reach for it, he sets it on the floor and nudges it toward you. When he pulls his hand back, you pick it up and look at the screen. The phone's browser is open to a Joke of the Day site. You frown at the text on the screen. "Where does a skeleton sleep?"

"a bone bed," he groans. "i know, i know. even *i* think that one's bad. and kinda morbid. i would have gone with 'anywhere he wants.'" The ghost of a smile tugs at your mouth, and you hand the phone back to him. He reaches out, hesitating a moment before taking it from your hand and returning it to his jacket.

"I had a bad dream," you whisper.

"yeah, i'm getting that," he says, though there's no mockery in it. He sighs, resting his head against his arm as he watches you. "...was it the hallway?"

"Sometimes," you say. "But that wasn't the worst bit." You sniffle again, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of you pyjamas. "Why do we have bad dreams?"

"is that a general 'we,' or you and me specifically?"

"Yes."

He snorts. "man, i'm glad you don't ask me the *tough* questions." But he gives it some thought as you rub your arms, trying to get rid of the goosebumps. "some people think they help us sort out all the things we're scared of. they come out in dreams so we can face them head-on instead of having them work on us from the inside. you and me, though… okay, so you remember when alphys got in trouble for building that radio for listening to that japanese radio drama, only it sorta picked up secure military transmissions, too?"

You shudder and nod. "I had to calm down a lot of yelling people."

"heh. yeah, people certainly weren't shy about *broadcasting* their feelings, were they?" He scratches his head thoughtfully. "i'm wondering if maybe there are other… possibilities out there. stuff that didn't happen, but might have, and they're… broadcasting. do you get what i'm saying?"

Memories flash behind your eyes. Toriel, hands pressed to her mouth in horror as she watches you fall. Asgore, eyes wide with surprise as he turns to dust. You ponder that for a moment, and nod. "So…we have bad dreams 'cause our brains are like Alphys' radio?"

"you always were pretty tuned-in to things."

You snort, and the tears are slowing a little. Sans blinks, hope kindling in his eyes. "you wanna come out?"

You do have to think about that, but eventually, you shake your head.

"can i come in?"

You don't have to think about that as long, and nod. He shifts onto his back, scootching with his toes until he's lying next to you, though pointed in the opposite direction. You're still curled up on your side, and he's close enough to touch, but you'd have to stretch to do it. You're quietly thankful that he's keeping his distance.

"Sans?" you ask quietly.

He turns his head from rapt contemplation of your bedsprings to look at you. "yeah, buddy?"

"I erased my parents."

He goes very still, the lights in the depths of his eyes flickering. "...i'm not following."

"The worst part of the dream." Your lip quivers, and you retreat further into yourself. "Mom and Dad were there - my human Mom and Dad. And I touched them, and I wiped their faces away. I didn't mean to, I swear, but now.. now…" You choke on the words. "I can't remember… I can't remember their faces, Sans." You drop the arms covering your eyes and stare at him, silently pleading. "I don't know what to do. How do you remember someone when nobody else in the world knows who they are?"

Sans raises his hands to cover his face and takes a long breath before lowering them again. "aw, man. kiddo." He reaches for you, but stops himself quickly. In his eyes, there's so much uncertainty, but beneath it is a raw, pained understanding. He understands. He really, really does. And suddenly, nothing else matters. You shake your heart free of the weight of all the dreams and scoot toward him, swinging so that you're facing the right way right before you thump against him. He lets out a quiet whoof and draws you into a hug, and it's Sans' hug, and despite the tears that still dampen your face, you start to believe that somehow, things can come right again.

"What do I do?" Your voice is muffled against his sweater. You're shaking, though you're not even sure if it's because you're cold, or scared, or in shock.

He rests his chin against your head, slowly rubbing your back until some of the tremors ease and you can breathe.. "i know things got bad right after the barrier came down, and tori never wanted to say much about it - honestly, i didn't wanna ask too much 'cause she tended to set things on fire whenever she thought about it - but your aunt must have a picture somewhere, right?"

You shake your head, your hands clutching at his hoodie. "She threw away all my stuff when I didn't come home. Pictures of my parents, too. She said it hurt too much having them around to remind her."

You can feel a ripple run through him, and something in the air raises the hairs on your arm. "okay, i understand the fire thing better. one day, i'd really like to have a talk with this aunt of yours. i can see why tori gets all hot under the collar." Despite the tears, that gets a snicker out of you, and the prickly thing in the air goes away. "all right, see, your parents had cool jobs in places that usually need id. there *will* be pictures around somewhere. so here's the deal: i'm gonna do some research, and i'll keep digging until i find 'em. bet i can get alphys to help, too."

That makes you raise your head, and you stare up into his shadowed eyes. "You're gonna do research?"

"yup. believe it or not, i actually used to be good at it. say, how's a skeleton like a book?"

"They both have spines," you answer dismissively, making him laugh. "But you hate work!"

"but i like you," he says, and gives a dramatic sigh. "the things i do for you, kid." You can't think of anything to say. As your hold on him tightens, the tears start to well again, and his eyes go wide. "hey, easy there. we just plugged that leak." He wipes the damp from your cheek with his sleeve. "tell you what. it might take some time until we find something. how 'bout you draw me what you still remember in the meantime."

"You think that'll help?" you ask.

He shrugs. "couldn't hurt. it always helps clear my head, anyway." He looks pointedly toward the door. "we're gonna have to come out from under the bed, though."

You think about that. It's not so dark any more - it must be dawn soon. No danger of getting lost in the dark if you come out. Still, you're going to need some kind of protection. "Can we make a fort?"

Sans' grin brightens the shadows beneath the bed. "sounds like a plan."

He leaves the safety of the bed first, inching out the same way he came in. Once he's out and on his feet, he reaches back to take your outstretched hands, and you pop out from beneath the bed at his tug with a speed that startles a laugh out of you. Grinning, he tousles your hair and takes your hand, and he leads you out of the dark.

You have a moment of unease at the top of the stairs, but he keeps his hold on you as he leads you down them, and before long, you're sprawled on the living room rug, surrounded by papers and crayons, concentrating hard on your drawings while Sans potters around you. He's been occupied for a while, yanking cushions off the couch and propping them up with whatever comes to hand, when the prickle flares along your skin again. You look up to see a blanket descending over the frame he's constructed, and you smile as the warm, fuzzy walls of the fort close around you.

Sans pushes his way inside and flops down on a pillow. "phew. i just worked myself to the bone."

You giggle, and shyly pass him the first drawing you finished. The figures don't really have features beyond the eyes and the smiles you know they had to have - not that you're really good at drawing them anyway - but you've drawn yourself with your parents, and you're pretty sure you've got the sizes and skin colours right, and you've written the words DON'T FORGET at the top to remind yourself.

Sans takes the drawing from you, and draws a sharp breath.

You bite your lip, your brows drawing together. "Is it bad?"

"huh?" He blinks, looking up at you, and shakes himself, handing the drawing back. "nah, just stunned by your skills of an artist, is all." He rests one hand behind his head and holds out the other. "what else you got, kiddo?"

You show him what you have so far. You've drawn your first day of school, how you were scared and wouldn't let go of Mom's leg. And another drawing shows how you'd run down stairs when Dad got home, jumping the last five steps so he'd catch you, and then searching his pockets for treats, which earned you the name you've used ever since. You've drawn the day you learned how to make onigiri with Mom, and you've drawn yourself sitting out in a field watching the stars with Dad. But you still have a lot of blank pages.

"I'm not sure if I should draw the bad ones," you admit, rubbing at your arm as it tingles with goosebumps. "I remember the day they left. I just don't… I don't know…"

He grabs an extra blanket from the cushionless couch that makes up the back wall of the fort, and shakes it out before plopping it down over you. It's huge, and you vanish beneath it, but you're warm and smiling by the time you manage to get your head back out.

"memories are memories," he says. "it's up to you, pal. just cause you draw 'em doesn't mean you ever have to look at 'em again unless you want to."

"Hmm." You chew on the end of a crayon until Sans gently pulls it out of your mouth. "That's smart."

"ow. try not to sound so surprised," he says, placing a hand over his heart, and winks at you.

There's a thump from outside the fort.

"WHAT THE- SANS! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS FOLDEROL? I'VE ASKED YOU TIME AND TIME AGAIN TO CONFINE YOUR MESS TO YOUR-" Papyrus's head pokes beneath the blanket, and his expression immediately changes from annoyance to surprise as he looks from you to Sans. "ER-"

"some nights, you just wake up and go 'it's a blanket fort kinda day,'" Sans says. He and Papyrus exchange a look, one of the ones that makes you feel strange and fluttery in the pit of your tummy because you know there's an understanding there between the brothers that you're not part of. But the feeling passes quickly, and you smile at Papyrus before returning to your drawing.

"I SEE," Papyrus says slowly. "AND IS IT ALSO A WARM AND COMFORTING BREAKFAST KIND OF DAY?"

Sans waves nonchalantly. "not my department, bro. you know i don't have the-"

"SANS, DON'T YOU DARE-"

"fort-itude for that stuff."

"NNNNGAAAAH!" He stomps his foot in frustration. "VERY WELL! WORRY NOT, HUMAN, I WILL SEE TO YOUR NUTRITIONAL NEEDS! MASTER CHEF PAPYRUS WILL CRAFT A WHOLESOME AND WELL-ROUNDED BREAKFAST FIT TO GRACE THE GREATESTS OF FORTS! NYEH!"

"Thanks, Papyrus!" you call after him as he vanishes.

"...how long you think it's gonna be before he sets the kitchen on fire?"

"He's getting better," you point out.

"he's making something that's not pasta," Sans counters.

You sigh and pick up a new sheet of paper. "You're right. You going to go keep watch?"

Sans tilts his head, watching you. "...nah. i think i'll get undyne to do it. maybe tori, too. alphys can come with and we can get started on that research. meantime," he stretches out, bones cracking as he does so. "i'm feeling kinda lazy. think i'll just stay here."

You smile, and reach out your hand. He takes it, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go, and you get back to your work. As you draw, he's always there somewhere, whether it's a hand on your back, a foot prodding your side until you giggle and swat away the offending slipper, or a lap to rest your feet on. It's a little thing, but being able to feel that he's there, no matter where you're looking...it's comforting.

Once, after Undyne and Alphys arrive, he does get up. You're deep in your drawings at that point, but when you look up, glancing through the flap of blanket that serves for a door to the fort, he's standing over by the window with Undyne. Alphys sits on the floor by their feet, her tongue sticking out as she types furiously on her laptop while Sans and Undyne talk.

It's different from how they usually converse. Most of the time, if they talk at all, Sans is doing his best to get under Undyne's skin, and Undyne is usually giving him exactly what he wants by blowing up and throwing something through a wall. But Sans's voice is quiet, and Undyne leans against the wall, arms crossed and foot propped up beneath her, nodding once or twice at something Sans says. Her face is more serious than you're used to seeing. She's not angry, or upset. Just… intent. But then she catches sight of you, and the familiar toothy grin spreads across her face as she waves at you. Sans looks back over his shoulder, grinning just as hard, and the moment is gone. Sans rejoins you in the fort, and Undyne heads to the kitchen to yell at Papyrus as smoke begins to trickle from the doorway.

It isn't until much later that you finally run out of both paper and memories. By that time, the fort has gotten much larger. You stretch and reach for a cinnamon bun, chewing thoughtfully as you shake out your sore wrist. Somewhere in the living room, Asgore and Toriel debate the merits of various types of fertilizer for the ficus in the window that keeps struggling to live despite Papyrus's sometimes questionable attempts to make plant food. Alphys is wedged against the couch behind you, still typing, although she does stop periodically, the pauses usually accompanied by the muted sound of the "Mew Mew: Kissie Cutie" theme song through her headphones. On one side of you, Papyrus and Undyne have commandeered some of your paper and crayons, and are engaged in a spirited discussion about armour designs that involves an awful lot of half-nelsons.

Sans, still on his pillow next to you, looks up as you set your last page aside. "all done?"

You nod, swinging yourself around until you can use him as your own pillow, and you finish off the last of your breakfast. "I think so."

"feel better?"

"Yeah." You curl up beneath your blanket, looking around at everything Sans has done. For a lazy guy, he sure managed to pull a lot together in one morning. As you stare up at his affectionate grin, something very big stirs within you, and your eyes begin to sting again.

His eyes widen, and he puts an arm around you. "aw, kid, you're killin' me here. what's wrong now?"

"Nothing," you say, smiling despite the ache in your heart. "Sometimes feelings are too big, that's all." You sit up, rifling through your stack of drawings and picking up the last one. The drawing of when you Fell. You flip it over, and draw a few quick strokes before passing the page to him. He takes it from you, and snorts when he sees what you've drawn there.

"yeah, yeah. i less-than-three you too, kiddo."

Smiling, you curl up against him, and burrow beneath your blanket. You might even fall asleep, if Papyrus and Undyne stop yelling long enough. You're not afraid any more. You know that whatever dreams may come, your family, one member in particular, will be there to catch you and set things right again.

The thought of it… it fills you with determination.