A Tale of Consequences
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Chapter 2
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Sans paused at the top of the stairs, listening intently to the snores coming from his brother's room. Heavy. Loud. Interspersed with sleeping, stuttering "NYEH"s.
Yep. That was Pap all right.
Sans let his fingerbones linger on the doorknob, and then drew away, pulling his hood up over his head and mentally preparing the coordinates he wanted to step toward.
He wasn't breaking his promise. Not really. He'd agreed to stay in bed today. Which he had. But, Papyrus was in bed and it technically wasn't today anymore.
Step, and he was standing in front of Grillby's, hands stuffed in his pockets against the biting cold. Snowdin was dim and quiet, although he knew some of that was the result of his damned eye. The headache had eventually receded to a constant, but tolerable pressure, but it hadn't fixed the issue of his eyelight malfunctioning, and still left the world looking like someone had stuck a lampshade over his head, and the bulb liked to flicker more often than not.
Still, at least he knew the light spilling from the windows was glowing, painting the white snow banks a bright orange and yellow. Sans had always thought it was pretty damn thematic, a tiny little flame in such a cold bleak environment.
Not that Snowdin was unwelcoming. It was actually rather cozy. But there was a reason every sign tacked "and more ice" onto the end of every location.
Okay, so maybe Sans had thought it was funny to scribble that onto the sign at the crossroads on his way back from sentry duty one day. It'd only been in washable marker, and since no one had bothered to clean it off yet he figured it wasn't too off the mark.
Heh.
A tiny bell chimed as he pushed the door open, the blast of air rushing out to warm his already chilled face.
It was fairly empty this time of night, the only patrons being a passed out rabbit and the smallest of the dog-squad still playing poker with itself. Sans sidled into his normal seat at the bar.
It was...quiet. Faint, soothing music drifting gently from the jukebox in the corner. Grillby didn't take long to notice the addition, barely glancing up from the glass he was washing to reach behind the counter and pull out Sans' usual.
He downed nearly half the bottle of ketchup in a single gulp.
"What? No fries?"
The flame elemental glanced meaningfully at the clock, giving a half shrug.
"No worries, I'm just grillin' ya." Sans took another, smaller swig, before placing the bottle back down on the wooden bar with a clunk. He stared down at the droplets of red clinging to the glass, leaving trails as gravity quickly worked to pull them back down to the rest.
It reminded him too much of the nightmare. Blood seeping through the grooves in the tile. He suddenly lost his appetite.
He honestly wasn't sure what was driving him forward at this point.
A promise? To someone he might as well have never met?
A smiling face in the sunset, stained and blotted by spilled ink.
He hated making promises.
Flames crackled. The elemental offered a second round. Sans shook his head, his throat closing up at the thought of it.. "Nah. Thanks, but Pap would kill me."
Pops and hisses as the fire danced, the smartly dressed elemental squirreled the bottle away beneath the bar. Sans almost missed the follow up question, lost as it was in the smooth jazz music from the corner.
"Eh, don't worry about it Grillbz. He's just worried. Ya know how Pap is."
Yellow eyes in the shifting face flickered, the elemental gestured with his cleaning rag.
"That noticeable eh?" Sans took one hand off the the bottle, running his fingers along the curve of his skull, just above the edge of his eye socket. His finger bones followed the spiderweb of cracks, spreading both up and to the side, sealed and reduced to barely raised ridges and dips in the bone. Papyrus hadn't done a bad job, everything considering. "Nuthin' exciting really. Just a fall. Pap just didn't want me at my post today."
The elemental's dry response to that made him snicker, "Yea. Shocker isn't it? First time in a long time he's encouraged me to be lazy. Gotta admit it tho, the resulting headache had been enough to make even my brand of slacking miserable. I probably wouldn't have made a good sentry, one eye'd or no."
The elemental's fire-wreathed head bobbed sympathetically.
"So. Did I miss anything while I was tied up today?" Sans continued after a few minutes of soft jazz. The fire elemental shrugged, setting aside the glass he'd just finished drying and adding it, still slightly steaming, to the pile beside him. Business as usual.
Sans hadn't thought so. It still felt early. He'd prefer to finish this before the other sentries got involved. "Just...keep an ear out okay?"
It...just slipped out. He surprised himself. He hadn't intended on saying anything further about it. The elemental paused, hissing a question at him, embers popping.
"Just a feelin'. Honestly it's probably nothing." Sans assured him quickly, wondering where that came from. Grillby always got out, didn't he?
...Sans wasn't sure. All he knew was that Papyrus always died, and Sans hadn't.
...until this last.
Seven full resets since he'd started recording, an uncountable number of smaller ones, and he'd finally died.
Honestly he was kinda surprised it had taken this long.
Cold fire burned in the depths of his soul, sad, hurting. It was a phantom pain, but it felt like it was trying to tear itself apart.
You died.
No more waiting right? If he got dusted tomorrow, the first warning the town would get would be the Dog-Squad missing a poker game.
Damn. This was getting depressing even for him. "Hey Grillbz."
The fire elemental arched a lick of flame.
"D'ya got anything sweet?" Grillby's surprise was obvious. Sans never deviated from his usual. "Yeah, yeah, I know it's a bar, not a bakery. Just figured I'd ask."
Something sweet might be what he needed to pick up his mood. Maybe he'd stop by the general store when it opened. Cinnamon sounded good. The idea lightened the weight on his shoulders a little. He slid off the stool, leaving the remains of the bottle where it sat. Grillby sizzled behind him, Sans glanced over his shoulder, "Just put it on my…"
He trailed off, shaking his head and reaching into the pocket of his hoodie. He counted out the GP and slid them onto the counter, keeping just enough to afford the cinnamon bunny. Wasn't like it'd matter if it reset, but if he did end up dusted, at least Grillby wouldn't be out completely. Just covering his bases. "That should cover about half of the tab. I'll get the rest to you later, okay bud?"
The elemental stared at the small pile of coins in abject confusion. He crackled at Sans. Demanding.
The skeleton laughed. The grinning jokester; that was all anyone was allowed to see. "Who knows? I could be doing it just to make you sizzle. Seems a bit more likely than possession, eh?"
Sans turned his back and shuffled toward the door, giving Grillby a wave and a "Night Grillbz" before pushing out into the cold.
The door swung shut behind him. Sans took a breath of frozen Snowdin air, and stepped.
The difference was night and day. Literally.
Where Grillby's had been bright and warm even with his eye on the fritz, the depths of the constantly snow-covered wilderness was nearly total blackness without the light from the day-glow crystals, and they were still some hours away. As he walked from his sentry station toward the huge door at the beginning of the trail, Sans caught his slipper on a stone he couldn't see. Suddenly the ground was missing for the longest moment ever, and then he was face first in the snow.
Cold!
The mental yelp was embarrassing. He could almost imagine the laughter if he'd had any sort of audience. Nervous giggling. Papyrus' awkward squawk as he was torn between laughing and worry. But Sans was alone, the laughter echoing in his own head.
He shivered in his coat.
Why doesn't the skeleton like the wind?
Or the cold. Or the ice. Sans could think of a number of variations. All leading back to the punch-line.
It cuts right through them.
There was a reason most of Snowdin's populace were fuzzy. This place got damn cold, although today's seemed particularly piercing. He'd need to evaluate his plan, he'd need more layers if he intended to go through with this.
Leaving the undignified Sans angel behind, he followed the trail through the dark and barren trees. The bridge was coming up. Soon enough the posts of Papyrus' gate loomed out of the darkness on either side, but Sans kept his eyes firmly on the ground.
Creak.
The wood shifted under his weight. Had it always been that loud? Or was it just him being hyper aware?
A fall here and...well…
Okay, to be honest he'd probably keep his head enough to initiate a shortcut before he hit the bottom of the ravine, but he'd still end up knocking his already battered skull against his lumpy mattress. He didn't need Pap getting the bright idea he needed to tie him to the bed to keep him from hurting himself. Even Sans couldn't take a shortcut without being able to move.
He didn't let go of the breath he was holding until he was back on solid, snow-covered ground. Almost there.
CRACK.
A stick breaking echoed through the trees. The scream of some distant nocturnal monster.
The sound rattled in his skull. Sinking into his bones. He lifted his slipper, peering down at the fuzzy shadow in the white snow.
Yeah. Just a stick. Heavy, but just a stick.
Sans shrugged and moved on.
The great stone door loomed above him. Sans glanced over to where he knew a bush hid one of Alphys' cameras.
Well. He'd known about that before. Not like it changed anything.
Damn it. He needed to be able to see.
Magic flared in his right eye, Sans held out a hand, blue magic coalescing into a faintly glowing bone construct that floated above his palm. It offered a little light, as did the flame in his good eye, but the most useful thing was that everything shifted back into focus.
Gotta love yellow magic.
Irritating, but Sans could roll with it. It was just yet another energy drain on his already overtaxed body. No big deal.
Sans tossed the construct into the air carelessly, directing it to float out over the unbroken snow.
Over there, there was a path worn through. Worn, but not recently. Sans knew that little lane. He traced it in the light of the construct. It led right up to the door, with a tiny spot cleared just large enough for a bored skeleton to practice knock knock jokes.
Other than that...nothing. There were no scuff marks in the clean snow to indicate the heavy door opening. No footprints to indicate the passage of anyone since Sans last remembered being here little over a day ago.
He still had time.
Sans sighed, following his tiny trail to his practice spot, settling his back against the stone. It felt...colder than he remembered, seeping through his jacket and settling into his bones.
Was the cold the glass, or the creature inside it?
He weakly lifted his hand, wrapping it against the stone door. Like he always did.
"Knock knock."
But nobody came.
There was no answer.
Huddled in his jacket, Sans settled in for the long watch.
It always started here.
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A/N: Comments are always appreciated! Especially about characterization. This is my first foray into UT so I'm a bit uncertain with them.