Chapter 10

Sleigh Bells Jingle-ing

Such a complex contraption, Alphys thought as she lay in the chilly, boxy garage; a trolley supported her back as she worked on the sleigh's underside. The air was just shy of betraying her own breath. The hollow whistle from the gaps in the steel door were masked by the strong, upbeat tempo of one of her many favourite songs pulled from her favourite videogame soundtracks.

The wooden, primitive shell deceived the advanced workings underneath, the likes of which Alphys had never seen, but was easily able to identify. She worked fast, faster than ever before, absorbing in every nook and facet of information, picking up on the inner workings quickly; the more complicated the tech, the faster she could decode and understand it. Honestly, the work was no trouble at all. Mettaton's new body caused her much blushing and a great decline in concentration for weeks on end, but thanks to the sleigh's design, there were no hot flushes or cold sweats or lewd thoughts to impede her progress. The sleigh was… a sleigh. It caused her about as much unrest as fixing the microwave. Besides, since when did she get to work on technology so progressive and owned by the legendary Saint Nick himself?

Knowledge filled her subconscious, drowning it under a torrent of data. Not only would the sleigh be fixed to tip-top shape, but it would be faster, tougher, nimbler, all around better.

Still, however, a few questions niggled away as she went on her curious way. The biggest one being a lack of a fuel source. She discovered a battery for the on-board electronics, but no gas tank of any kind to give it the drive needed to propel itself into the air. What did it run on? It ran on nothing.

One last spot of soldering did the trick. Alphys rolled out and pulled up her welding mask. Her face was clean compared to the rest of her dusty body. A nearby tool trolley held the remote for the stereo, which she used to bring the hollow rush of winter into the garage.

She patted her hands down as she admired her handiwork. "All done," she announced in a proud fashion, in the privacy of herself and with nobody around to judge her. "Now to let Santa know."

The doctor waddled out of the garage and into the hall, getting halfway past the stairs until she realised she was unconsciously rubbing at her murky forearms. Warm water beckoned her from atop those steps, urging her to be her best in front of Mister Claus. Jovial cheer resounded from three doors away.

Alphys flipped out her phone and, making sure not to stain the screen, checked the time. "It's still early. There's s-still time, I guess. He seems to be enjoying the company for now," she said. Keeping up appearances got the better of her and she rounded the newel to climb to the floor above. "A couple of minutes to clean up won't hurt."

As Doctor Alphys retreated away to a quick wash and change in clothes, Asriel Dreemurr bolted down the hall, past the stairs.

Any other kid would have been overjoyed at the prospect of an audience with the man who handed out gifts to the nice, the one behind the magic of December 25th – well, actually, second to Jesus. Asriel was lost, confused, feeling the petals around his head, reaching out with vines and leaves, hearing that voice churning down his throat, hearing booming allegations echo inside his skull.

Despite smiling, despite greeting him with open arms, despite offering a place on his lap, Asriel knew that Santa knew – or at least he believed that he knew. All his bad deeds. All the lives he hurt and destroyed over and over. His name, notorious enough to title a list on its own, Santa knew it.

With no other thoughts besides accusations and disappointments, he ran into the next room in a desperate bid to place as much distance between the man who would judge his actions, and screeched to a stop on the cold concrete floor upon stumbling across that same man's ride.

Its magnificence stunned him; so rustic and humble in design. With its red paint and golden trimmings, it stood out of place within that lifeless, grey box known as the garage. The front seat was cushy and luxurious enough for the sturdy soul controlling it, along with a second row behind the first, possibly for passengers, and the biggest compartment in the back to house the biggest sack of presents he had ever laid eyes on. The burlap was fat with gifts, designated to children all around the world more deserving than himself.

Asriel shot a glance out the door. The hallway lay deserted.

As scary as the driver was, his vehicle was, in itself, a present waiting to be unwrapped. An adventure waiting to be explored. Many children could have a picture taken in a prop at the mall, but how many kids could say they sat in the actual sleigh belonging to the actual Santa?

"No one will notice," he whispered to his own ears, "if I take a little look…"

After quietly closing the door, he gingerly approached the sleigh, taking care as to not smear his own grubby fingerprints over the shiny trimmings.

"Just one look…" he assured as he climbed into the front seat. Hopefully, he won't leave any white fur around the crime scene. "No one will ever know."

He landed on the seat, right in the centre of a worn groove in the centre made from countless runs across the world. It was ten times wider than his scrawny posterior. The front was outfitted with a range of flying apparatus. Asriel struggled to imagine what it must be like to pilot this baby high, high up in the dead of the winter night.

A thought sprang to mind: maybe Santa Claus takes the nice and naughty lists with him when he goes out? It seemed plausible. He may need to double-check someone every once in a while, unless he had perfect enough memory to remember all seven billion people in the world.

A couple compartments adorned the complicated dash. This might be Asriel's only chance to find out on which sheet of paper his moniker lay. The left compartment yielded a single book: the sleigh's user manual; eight-hundred pages thick and heavy enough to induce amnesia. Popping the opposite glove compartment vomited out a heap of roadmaps and atlases. He just barely pushed them all back in enough to click the hatch shut.

After the resounding click had finished bouncing around the four walls, Asriel paused and listened, hearing nothing thumping down the hall much to his relief.

Next, Asriel scaled the back of the front seat and landed in the passenger section, where the leather on the seat were immaculate and smooth, untouched by the weight of many rear-ends. A five second search found nothing, nothing under the seat or any extra compartments.

Disheartened that his search had amounted to nothing, young Asriel rested his chin on the rim of the backseat and sighed, his eyes befalling the sack of presents. The top of open, unknotted, flashing a few layers of glossy, vibrant colours in flashy patterns. The contents of those boxes were so tempting, but it was a temptation easily dismissed. Those presents weren't for him.

He traced its shape from the top, working his way down, examining every bump and protruding corner and wondering who it was for and what it was. A videogame console for Jenny. A new phone for Andy. A rectangular block for some guy. The possibilities were as endless as Asriel's creativity.

Reaching the bottom, the pit that contained it was a deep, wooden box. Asriel's chin rose as he spotted something wedged between the sack and the corner of the pit. Small but noticeable, with a sparkly, silver glint. He needed a closer look.

The pit proved to be deeper than it first appeared as the boy hopped it; the lip reached the top of his head. After finding a solid footing on two sturdy boxes – and a quick prayer that the contents inside weren't fragile – he reached down and clutched the present wedging it down. With a hard tug on both the gift and the object, he managed to pry it loose.

In the single, buzzing lightbulb overhead, the bauble shone like a star and was decorated with dazzling stars of glitter. It was a lump of ice in Asriel's hands having obtained the chill from thirty-thousand feet above ground, and was surprisingly heavy. The compact Christmas tree decoration, no bigger than his palm, trembled his skinny arm – just holding it was a chore. He had a long way to go before becoming as big and strong as Dad. Or, at the very least, Mom.

Asriel cupped the bauble in both hands, yet still found it a struggle to hold. "How is anyone supposed to hang this on a Christmas tree?" he wondered, then strained his finger by holding it up by its ring. "The branch'll snap."

Right then, something did snap: the ring from its bauble. With a click of disengaging metal, the trinket landed in the spot where it was found.

"Oh, shoot, I broke it," he muttered. A fear grew. It may have been a small ornament, but it was Santa's ornament. What was he going to say when – not if, when – he found out.

"I'm really in for it now…" Asriel bent down it retrieve it. "Maybe if I put it back, then no-one'll ever kno—"

His hand was inches away when the silver bauble exploded. Asriel snapped back, drawing in a shocked gasp as a cloud of green gas enveloped him in an instant. The first mouthful was the largest. It raced down his throat and took effect in an instant. He shot straight up like elastic, then felt an overwhelming urge to drop as the heaviest bout of sleep seized his entire body.

"Oh, no…" Asriel mumbled. "…Oh… no…"

By the second breath, his head became weightless. By the third, the room started turning. Asriel grabbed the edge of the pit with arms like jelly and unresponsive fingers.

"…G-gotta… get out…" Asriel made a feeble attempt to both crawl from the pit and call for help at the same time. His voice came out no louder than a few octaves. "…Gotta get… Gotta… get…" His entire body was numb. His eyelids shut and refused to open back up. Having lost control over his body, the little prince helplessly slid back against the corner. "…Comfy…"

Slumping against the bottom, his knees budged against his chest, Young Asriel succumbed to the effects of the sleeping gas.

Five seconds after the gas is released, it is potently designed to disperse, becoming harmless and invisible. On the sixth second, the garage door opened and Doctor Alphys entered, followed by Santa, and then the others, funnelling in one at a time.

"Here it is," Alphys announced. "All fixed and t-tuned and ready for lift-off." She was clean and wearing a black shirt with Mettaton's blocky face on the front.

Asgore, Toriel, Frisk, Papyrus and Sans gasped at how impressive such a ride was. A fact not even the dull, grey interior could subtract from.

"Oh, my god!" Papyrus gawked like a giddy fangirl. "It's not the most hideous contraption I've ever seen! It is, in face, nowhere on the hideous scale!"

Santa replied, "Thank you." I suppose.

Frisk spoke their mind, saying that Asriel would love to see this instead of where he had hidden off to. Asgore's comforting paw landed softly on them, followed by his equally comforting words:

"If your brother's not okay being here, then let's not force him into this."

"So… yeah," Alphys continued to the jolly man himself, "I've tuned her up re-real nice. You should find it'll handle better… and… and stuff." She really wish she knew how to nail her sales pitches.

Nevertheless, Santa was as joyful as always as he climbed in and tested the ignition for himself. Upon activation, it roared to life with a vigour he had never knew it possessed.

"Thank you ever so much, love," he said as he reached out and generously shook the doctor's hand. "You've been an extraordinary help, you have."

Alphys blushed. "N-no worries," he said as she contemplated never washing that claw ever again.

One by one, he extended his thanks to everyone in the room:

"Thank you for your hospitality." Next. "It was great to see you again." Next. "May all your Christmases be bright and merry." After which, he took hold of the reins. "Now I best be on my way. My wife will be worried sick."

Asgore grinned. "Then we better not keep you any much longer." He leaned closer, cupping a hand next to his mouth and speaking in a smaller tone. "No wife likes to be kept waiting. At least mine doesn't." That remark earned him a painless slap on the arm by his other half.

Pulling back on the riding leathers ever so, the sleigh levitated off the ground, ready for take-off. Undyne pressed the garage door and it churned opened, rolling into a condensed barrel above.

"Ho ho ho!" Santa bellowed as the garage door neared its most open. "Merry Christ—" He stopped himself a second before he could blast off, the back lurching upwards, almost hitting the ceiling. "Excuse me," he said, "but would you be so kind as to move your car?"

On the driveway, the Dreemurr's SUV – its red exterior flecked with white – stared with dead headlights and a grill of angry teeth at the sleigh, sizing it up, challenging it.

"Oh, right!" Asgore pulled out a jangling set of keys. "One minute."

In just his sweater and jeans, he jumped in the driver's seat, disengaged the handbrake and backed the car down the driveway. At the bottom, he turned around and budged up on the snowy pavement, allowing enough room for Santa's fleeting farewell.

Santa cleared his throat. "For real this time. Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas!"

The legend himself zoomed off into the Christmas Eve night, off to help more children across the world. Frisk, Toriel, Alphys, Undyne, Papyrus and Sans from the door, and Asgore from out his side window, watched and waved with wonder as he vanished like a shooting star. They stayed well after he was gone, long after the magic of the moment had faded.

"That was… eye-opening," Toriel understated.

"Sure makes a fella hungry," Sans said.

Alphys held a claw over her chest. "I've made the nice list for life."

"I'm thinking of cheese right now and I have no idea why," Papyrus added. They looked at him.

Asgore repositioned the car on the trodden lines made on the driveway. He came in from the cold.

"Well, Santa did say he wants our Christmases to be merry…" He held his wife and child lovingly, and they held him back with equal measure. "So what do you say we head home and enjoy the rest of tonight?"

"You guys don't wanna stick around for a bit?" Undyne asked.

"We shall have all day tomorrow to talk about this wonderful night. Until then, I wish to make preparations for Christmas," Toriel replied, then faced Frisk. "My child, please find your brother and tell him to get ready to head home."

Frisk nodded and set about looking. Alphys and Undyne's house wasn't the biggest house in the world, so a goat of their size should not be too hard to find.

They moved with a spring in their step, having met the real Santa Claus. At least now they didn't have to break the sour, soul-crushing news to their bro… if they could find him. Frisk started with the downstairs bathroom – small and isolated; a perfect place to hide. Empty. The kitchen – plenty of cupboards to crawl up in. Nothing. The dining room – would he hide under the table? Nope. The living room – erm… Desolate.

Asriel's coat, hat and boots were by the entrance, not to mention it was locked up tight. There was no way he would leave the house without them; Mom would kill him if he was caught outside without proper clothes.

Frisk called his name from the foot of the stairs and waited, but nobody answered. Upstairs, they checked the main bathroom, Alphys's room, Undyne's room, the dungeon, the bridge, the tower, in every wardrobe, under every bed, under every table, behind every door, inside every box, in the attic, everywhere. The sweat trickled harder the less hiding places remained.

Asgore was wrapping on his scarf and Toriel her black gloves when a hesitant Frisk crept beside them.

"Are we prepared to go, children?" she asked before glancing over and finding only one present. "Frisk, where is Asriel? I told you to go get him."

Frisk, staring at the floor, tapped their indexes together and span their big toe into the plush carpet. They would dig their way to China if they could.

Toriel, trying to read her child, narrowed her eyelids and placed the knuckles of her woollen gloves against her hips. "Where is he?" she said in a slow, demanding voice. "What has he done?"

Frisk gulped and smiled at their mother. About Asriel. You see… it's funny she should ask that…