Making a Kinder World

by Last Haven

Side stories set in the same world as The World, Upside Down, highly recommend reading that before this. Tales of Frisk's life before and after coming to this new world, of the lives of monsters before Frisk arrived, and some from the lives of others in another world as well. UPDATES EVERY WEDNESDAY, mostly Gen

36. Who was not there

"Why did you first start smoking?"

Frisk paused, lighter just shy of the cigarette they held between their lips. They glanced up at Sans, but he only looked curious. Smiling, they lit their cigarette and then tossed the lighter onto the balcony's table, letting it clatter loudly as they reclined into the wicker bench. "Sure you want to know? It's not a terribly happy story."

He eyed them, considering. "You were using actual tobacco cigarettes before. You said it killed your grandfather." They had had that conversation only a month ago and he still looked wary each time they lit up a smoke.

"It did," they nodded. "Lung cancer. It's uh-" Belatedly, they realized that he definitely would know what cancer was—monsters didn't get sick, but they did have access to human media long before the Barrier came down. "It's a nasty way to go," they finished.

He narrowed his eyes. "I'll take your word for it. So, if it's that bad and you have a predisposition to it, why start smoking?"

There was no good way to weasel out of that. With a sigh, they shrugged. "Remember when I ran away from home when I was younger?"

"Christ, you really didn't have adult supervision, did you?"

They snorted and chuckled, their laughter slowly turning wry as they went on until at last they sighed. "Uh, yeah. I was trying and doing a lot of stuff. I tried some great, interesting things, but I also did some real dumb shit and some that got me in to varying amounts of trouble. Smoking was one of those things."

He shook his head. "What, did you have some sort of a death wish?"

Their lack of an immediate answer was pretty damning. Finally, they sighed. "Well. I wasn't exactly in a good headspace at the time." They shrugged. "I can't say it didn't cross my mind." When they saw the grim look on his face that he failed to hide entirely, they reached out and pressed a kiss to his temple. "Hey, it's okay. I survived back then. Got a little help afterwards. And I'm not going anywhere now. So, no need to panic."

He didn't look terribly relieved, but he let them tug him across the bench to rest against their side. "You were still smoking those things until a few weeks ago though."

"Okay, don't read into that too much. The cigarettes helped me mellow out some, that's all. It's not like I was completely attached to the things either." They paused to think it over. "Actually, I smoke way more now than I did back then. Funny." When he didn't look any happier, they patted his arm. "You know, if I'm being honest, there is another reason. I think the real reason it calmed me down, more than anything in the actual cigarettes themselves, was the smell."

"The smell?" he repeated, confused.

"Yeah, the—oh. You can't really smell it, huh?"

He considered the question. "Not really. Perhaps a little bit, if I get a face full, but what does that have to do with it?"

Frisk's lips twitched. "It's a human biology thing. Smell is tied to our memories. It can trigger feelings or memories. It's a survival tactic, but it can also make us nostalgic when we smell something familiar from our past. Like, whenever I smell cigarette smoke, it makes me think of my grandfather." They looked down at their cigarette before taking a drag off it. "It's just comforting."

Sans grunted. "Sounds fake, but okay."

That startled a laugh out of Frisk, which sent them into a giggling fit that made them flop against him for support and eventually made him start chuckling over their sheer amusement. Once they'd settled down, they realized their cigarette was mostly gone. They used up their cigarette before crushing the butt into the ashtray and then dug out another cigarette. As they got one out and began looking for their lighter, they started to speak again. "Alright, now I have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Why did you start smoking?" Where is the goddamn lighter? I just tossed it on here. They were so busy, they didn't notice that he didn't immediately answer. They had searched most of the table before they realized and turned to look at him. They saw that he was staring at his own lighter, turning it over in between the fingers of one hand.

Perhaps he noticed their attention as he instantly offered them his lighter. "It's not much of a story. I saw people smoking when I was smaller, thought it looked neat, and decided I wanted to do it too."

Frisk snorted and got their cigarette lit. Before they handed the lighter back, they looked down at it. It was a very nice and surprisingly elegant in its simplicity—black metal casing with silver inlays. The flames when they pressed the button were always a bright, entrancing shade of blue. They had thought momentarily about getting him a new lighter for Christmas before they really looked at this lighter and realized it was both too nice and too important to just replace. Or at least they figured it was important; he always had it on hand, even if it did give him trouble from time to time. "You know, generally adults try to discourage kids from picking up their bad habits," they chuckled, handing him the lighter back.

"Eh, most of them were socially awkward nerds or people who just didn't give a shit about some random kid who constantly came to prod their work and ruin their experiments." He took the lighter back with a grin as they started giggling again. Still, instead of immediately putting the lighter away, he kept it out in his hands and looked down at it.

They shot it a curious glance; just was so mesmerizing about it? "So, what, you saw some random adults who didn't even like you that much do it and that made you want to do it?"

He chuckled, his phalanges curling around the lighter, almost protectively. "Well. The old man also smoked. He smoked a lot." He slipped the lighter back into his pocket. "He said he did his best thinking with a cigarette between his teeth."

Gazing at him, Frisk's breath caught in their throat and they had a sudden thought. He'd been looking at it so intensely, like the answers he was looking for were hiding in between the lines of the inlays.

What if the lighter had been Gaster's?

They opened their mouths to ask, but paused and shut it again. No, they decided, closing their eyes and laying their head against his shoulder. I've dragged up enough memories of that man. I don't want to spend any more time thinking of him today.

---

That was the last they spoke of Gaster for months. School started for Asriel and Chara, they all got caught up in the preparations for the Liberation Day celebrations, and just before then it was Frisk's birthday, then it was one holiday after the other until it was late January. It seemed that for the first time in weeks, everyone was finally really winding down from the hustle and bustle of the last few months. But then, one day, Frisk and Asriel woke up to find Papyrus rather quiet even if it was early in the morning. After Frisk waved goodbye to the two, Sans came down and Frisk found him just as quiet as his brother. For a moment, they wondered if the two of them had another fight, but Sans didn't seem jittery like he normally did after a fight.

Sans's quiet mood continued for the rest of the day; when gentle nudging at him failed to get him to cheer up, they let him sleep through all their meetings. Most of the people they had to meet had met them before, so no one thought much the monster ambassador's lazy assistant sleeping through the meetings. He didn't have much of an appetite at lunch, nor did he seem interested when they mused about getting dinner to go that night.

When they got home, Frisk watched to see if the brothers would show signs at snapping at each other, but there was no hostility or tension. Just quiet disinterest, like ghosts wandering the same halls but unaware of each other.

"It's really weird," Asriel confided in them when they pulled him aside to ask him what he thought about it.

Frisk grimaced as they looked up at the two brothers; Papyrus was puttering around the kitchen with none of his usual gusto, while Sans seemed to be trying to melt between the seat cushions of the recliner. "Yeah," they muttered, leaning back. "And Papyrus didn't mention what was up?"

"No, he's hardly talked at all today. I mean, he said something about it having to do with today being today? I didn't really understand, but he looked so… well, like that that I couldn't make myself ask more about it." He leaned heavily into their side and sighed. "I don't know what to do."

They patted his shoulder and leaned down to press a kiss to his brow. "Maybe it's something that will pass soon then. Let's not worry about if for now, okay?"

He nodded reluctantly.

By the next morning, they would realize his hesitance hadn't been unfounded. As the night drew on, the two brothers became antsy-er, but rather than fight with each other, they just remained out of sorts. Papyrus didn't argue when they suggested ordering dinner out, and once they were done eating, Sans said something about going to Grillby's but didn't bother to stay long enough to hear if they wanted to come with him or not. Frisk frowned as he vanished from sight, but decided not to fret about it right then. As the hours dragged on, however, worry did set in. They tried calling his phone a few times, but he didn't answer. In the end, they couldn't justify storming down there to go get him without looking overprotective or controlling, so they decided to just call Grillby himself and see if Sans was still there.

He didn't answer the phone for so long that Frisk almost hung up, but at the last moment they heard the ring cut off mid tone and a raspy, crackling, but soft voice spoke. "Hi, Grillby's Bar."

Frisk's shoulders slumped as they tried not to sigh in relief. "Hello, Fukufire."

"Oh! It's the ambassador! Evening, Frisk."

"Good evening to you, too. Sorry to bother you, but is Sans there at the bar right now?"

There was a pause and then Fukufire returned. "Yeah, I can see him sitting at the bar from here."

Well, at least they knew where he was. "Can I ask a favor? Can you ask him if he has his cell phone on him? I've been trying to get a hold of him."

There was another pause. "It's sitting in front of him."

Frisk frowned. "It is?"

"Yeah. But I haven't heard any cell ringing." There was an obnoxiously loud snap; Fukufire must have popped a bubblegum bubble directly into the receiver. "Want me to yell at him for you to call you back?"

Frisk pinched the bridge of their nose. "Well, no need to scold really, but can you go ask him to turn it back on for me? I'd appreciate it."

"Oh-kay."

They opened their mouth to say goodbye, but paused at the last moment. "He doesn't, um, look like he's had one too many to drink, has he?"

"Who, Sans?" She paused, probably enjoying the excuse to scope him out—Frisk had been amused to learn that Fukufire seemed to carry a torch for many older men, but it'd only gotten funnier when they learned she had a giant crush on Sans. Sans didn't share their amusement about it. "Eh, he's been real quiet all night. Like, super quiet. Daddy cut him off a bit ago, but since he's not causing trouble, daddy hasn't tossed him out yet."

Well, there was another good thing—at least he was staying out of trouble. "Okay, well, if he becomes a problem, call me. I'll come fetch him."

"Alright! Look, it's been nice talking to you and all, but I can see Squydia is about to murder one of our patrons and I gotta stop her before daddy kills her."

Frisk blinked. "Got it. Good luck stopping your friend."

"Good night!"

After hanging up, Frisk resigned themselves to the fact that he was probably just being a mysterious nuisance and went to bed. He'd probably call them at four in the morning, needing to be let in, and then they could scold him.

The next morning however, it wasn't Sans who called them, but Fukufire again. They noted with some dread that not only was Sans' side of the bed empty, it was also cold as they turned over to grab their phone from their bedside table. They grimaced at the time—Papyrus wouldn't even be awake for another hour. "Hello?" they managed, drowsily.

"Um, morning, Frisk. This is Fukufire."

Frisk blinked slowly as their brain woke up. "Oh. Good morning. Can I help you?"

"Yeah. Um. Look, so, me and Squydia were doing lock up last night and we, uh, forgot to check all the stalls in the men's bathroom. And it, well, turns out that Sans kinda slept here all night?"

Frisk closed their eyes and had to force themselves not to either curse or groan. "Is he okay?"

"Oh, yeah, he's fine! It's just, um. Well, neither me nor daddy told Squydia to cut Sans off last night, so she kept serving him and now he's very, very… hung over."

Frisk smacked a hand to their forehead and winced at both the loud sound it made and the pain it caused them. Ugh. "Okay," they began, trying to ignore the pain in their forehead and get their brain to wake up faster. "Okay, just. Give me twenty minutes and I'll come get him, okay?"

Fukufire sounded damningly relieved. "Okay! Yeah, that'd be great. We'll try to get him back out front."

"Get him to drink some coffee while you're at it," they said as they sat up and then paused. "Actually, if you could try to get some food into him to, that would be great. And whatever you do, don't let him have any more liquor."

"We can do that! See you soon."

"Bye," Frisk managed to hold back their sigh until they made sure the call was over. Taking a deep breath, they forced themselves to get up. "Fuck, I should have asked her to get a cup of coffee ready for me too," they grumbled as they stretched and yawned.

Somehow, they managed to get themselves dressed and out the door while running on two hours sleep and no coffee. They didn't trust themselves on their motorcycle, so they swiped Papyrus's car keys and prayed he'd accept the fact they needed it to go fetch his brother as a decent excuse. Traffic was dead in the streets at least—all the partygoers and bar hoppers had already packed it in and only a few souls were heading to work right then.

They allowed themselves a sigh of relief that swiftly turned into one of irritation as they finally pulled into the parking lot outside of Grillby's bar. Despite the bar being closed, there were still a few cars in the lot. One car clearly had a person sleeping in the backseat, so Frisk tried not to slam their car door as they got out and headed inside.

They had to knock at the door to be let in; Fukufire unlocked it for them, trying to look friendly as she shuffled around. "Uh, hi, Frisk. Thanks for coming so fast."

Frisk blinked sleepily at her. "Thank you for calling me. Where is he?"

She pointed at the bar, looking sheepish.

Miraculously, Sans had managed to haul himself up onto one of the tall stools at the bar—or perhaps someone had shoved him up there. He laid half across the bar, looking like he'd just flopped there, giving more credence to the idea that someone had tossed him there. There was a cup of coffee next to his head, as well as a half full plate of French fries.

On the other side of the bard, Squydia stood. When she saw her friend and the ambassador walking towards her and Sans, she managed an awkward wave, but when Frisk finally reached her, she was shifting around nervously.

"So," Frisk began, starting to reach for Sans and leaning in. "How's our boy do—phew!" They reeled back, startled by the reek of booze coming off Sans. He smelled as if he bathed in beer, which probably meant someone had spilled it on him because Sans didn't even like beer. "Did he fall asleep in a puddle of beer or something?"

Squydia winced again, but Fukufire cleared her throat. "He kinda got into an argument with another customer—don't worry! Daddy made sure the fight didn't go far! But, um. He got a mug beer dumped on him."

Frisk winced and rubbed their hands against their face; Papyrus was going to be furious if his car smelled like beer after this. "Guuuuh well. Did he at least eat something?"

"Yeah, a little bit. Then, um, he fell back asleep."

Something finally snapped for Squydia. As Frisk shook their head, she suddenly shouted making Frisk jump and Sans snort in his sleep. "I am so sorry, this is all my fault! I didn't know he got cut off, so I just kept giving him drinks like an idiot! I am so, so sorry about this, Frisk, you gotta believe me."

Blinking up at her, Frisk forced themselves not to sigh and managed a smile. "I do believe you." Frisk allowed the girls a moment to enjoy the relief before they cleared their throat. "Now, that doesn't make what happened okay." Before they girls could tense up too much, they went on. "Sans is a monster, so he can absorb the alcohol just fine, but a human can get alcohol poisoning if they have too much which is an important reason to make sure once someone's cut off that they stay that way. If a human got sick here, that'd be a big headache for you guys and me. So, girls, I'm going to need you to do me a favor and promise me that you'll do your best to make sure this doesn't happen again, okay?"

"Yes, ambassador," they both said instantly, eagerly latching on to the light punishment.

"I'll do better from now on, promise," Squydia added, looking lighter than ever.

With a nod, Frisk glanced down at Sans and took a deep breath. "Okay. So." They paused, glancing past him. "Is there anymore of that coffee left?"

"Yeah, the rest of the pot is over here," Squydia announced helpfully.

"Great. Get me a cup and then can one of you show me Sans' tab? Might as well see the rest of the damage."

The two girls scurried to obey, both of them acting much more chipper now that they were more or less off the hook. Fukufire handed over the tablet with the tab. Frisk paid for it (after a long series of internal winces) while Squydia handed over the cup of coffee.

After polishing off the coffee and feeling slightly more alive, Frisk said their goodbyes to both girls and turned to Sans. "Come on, lazy bones," they began, shaking his shoulders. "Time to get—whoa!"

Sans nearly slid off the stool.

Frisk cursed while the girls either gasped or groaned, but the human barely managed to catch him in time. After a small sigh of relief, they glanced to the girls. "If you girls would be so kind, could I ask one of you to come help me get him on my back while the other one gets the door for me?"

Squydia helped Frisk pull Sans onto their back while Fukufire opened the door. With a final goodbye, Frisk started the suddenly much harder trek back to the car. Sans was dead weight on their back and they cursed every step of the way as he kept sliding down. They almost dropped him trying to open the door. They wished it was summer so they could just put the top down and dump in straight into the backseat. Instead, they eventually managed to shove him back there before climbing into the front.

They paused for a moment, still grumbling curses until they finally looked over their shoulder to see him snoring away in the backseat. "When we get home," they told the sleeping body, "you owe me some fucking answers and I don't care how hung over or awkward you are about it."

After what felt like ages, they got him home. Thankfully, the lights were still out in the house, so they had a good chance that Papyrus was still asleep. So, that just left getting Sans into the house without drawing too much attention. They were tempted to half strip him—with some of his layers off, his magical aura would spread out and he'd actually weigh less (not that they'd figured out how that worked yet, but it somehow did). While that would be a hell of a lot easier on them, it'd be really awkward if they got caught either stripping him down or lugging around a half naked Sans through the house. Resigning themselves to dragging him through the house, they got out of the car and then walked around. They'd just gotten the car door open and pulled him half out of the back when the kitchen door opened.

Busted, Frisk thought with a wince before they turned and looked over their shoulder.

Standing in the doorway into the kitchen, Papyrus glared out at them. "So," he began, voice terse, "I see you borrowed my car without asking."

"Yes, you're completely correct," they answered, bluntly. When it came to Papyrus, it was better to own up to the wrongdoing rather than dodge blame, especially when he'd caught them red handed. "I was afraid to bring him back on my bike in case he fell off."

"Tch," Papyrus huffed, closing his eye sockets before straightening and walking out into the garage to join them. "Well, you probably weren't wrong in worrying." He looked down at his brother and paused. "Look at you. I should have known I was being too optimistic in hoping you'd get your stuff together for once."

"That's not fair," Frisk tried, voice mild. "He has been doing better lately."

He shot them a flat look. "That's not what I'm talking about." He looked back to his brother, his shoulders slumping, but not out of relief. "He did so much better last January." He sighed and lifted a hand; it glowed blue and Frisk felt Sans' body lift up out of their arms. He tugged his brother out of the car. Once he could look into his sleeping brother's face, he shook his head. "I suppose it was because of how busy we were last year, but…"

Frisk frowned up at him, wondering when he'd stopped talking to them and instead to just nobody. "Papyrus," they called gently, startling him into looking at them. "We should get him to bed."

Flustered, he nodded. "Right. Let's go."

Papyrus walked through the house, floating his brother along, while Frisk followed silently behind, carrying Sans' coat. Once the two of them got him into Frisk and his room, Frisk helped him lower Sans onto the bed. He took a step back so they could pull off Sans' shoes and then tucked him into bed.

As they were pulling the covers up, they looked up in time to see Papyrus start to step out the door. "Papyrus," they called, voice soft so they wouldn't wake up the kids across the hall. When he paused to look back at them, they reached into their pants pocket and pulled out the car keys. They held them up so he could see.

His eye sockets widened and he sheepishly turned back to get the keys from them as they walked around the bed.

"Sorry for taking it without asking," they murmured, handing him the keys.

He nodded. "I can't say I'm happy, but thank you for collecting my brother. I know what a pain he can be about this, especially-" He paused, jaw clenching.

When he turned to leave suddenly, Frisk reached out and caught his arm. "Papyrus," they began, waiting until he looked back before speaking again. "Is there something I need to know about why this happened? About why this apparently happens every year?" When he grimaced, they waited, patient. "I assume it has something to do with why you've both been acting so quiet lately."

He flinched and fell quiet. Finally, he reached up and gently pulled their hand off his arm. "I'm sorry if," he paused, his voice the softest they'd ever heard it—he never even whispered that quietly before. "If I came off as… unreliable recently." Before they could correct him, he closed his eyes, looking pinched around his eye sockets. "Yesterday was the anniversary of our brother's death."

Frisk went stock still.

He opened his eyes, but never looked at them. "I… need to go get the princes' lunch ready. Excuse me."

Frisk let him go. After a long stretch of silence, they began to undress to get back into their nightclothes and then grabbed their phone. After making a few calls, claiming a family emergency, they cleared their schedule for the day. Once that was done, they climbed into bed and rolled over to look at Sans, who was still dead to the world. Just how much did he have to drink last night? Surely enough to hurt a human to be this out of it. Enough to qualify for a serious scolding for breaking his promise not to overdo it without them around to look out for him, but this seemed bigger than that.

Sleep didn't come for them, so they stayed like that until they heard Papyrus wake up Asriel and then the two leaving later on. They waited still for another two hours before Sans finally shifted around and woke up with a groan. By then, they'd gone from laying down to sitting up, some papers in their lap that they'd been reading, to try and at least get some work done for the day.

Once they finally heard him move and groan, they looked at him before setting their papers aside. "Morning," they offered, watching as he stared blearily in confusion. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone smacked me across the face with a baseball bat," he grumbled, reaching up to rub his head tenderly. "Ugh, what the fuck happened to me last night."

"You went to Grillby's and got drunk. Very drunk."

He paused and then winced. "Um. I don't remember."

They resisted the urge to stare at him, deadpan. "Trust me. I had to go fetch you at five in the morning. With Papyrus' car."

He winced again, even harder. "He let you take the car?"

"I borrowed it without asking. Don't worry though. He said he understood as he helped me get you up into bed."

"Oh fuck," he groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "First I break my promise to you, then I get caught by Papyrus." He stared up at the ceiling, looking sick. "I gotta quit drinking."

"If this is going to turn into a reoccurring thing, then yes. I'd say you have a problem if you don't try slowing down." They regarded him for a moment before reaching out to brush their knuckles against his cheekbone. Without their prompting, he reached up pressed the back of their hand into his cheekbone, shutting his eyes for a moment. "Papyrus explained that yesterday was the anniversary of your brother's death."

They felt the flinch under their hand as if they'd struck him with it. Slowly, he curled up onto his side, facing them, drawing their hand up higher as if to block his face more. It felt like he was using it as a shield, and the thought made their heart sting even as they smiled.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The question was almost rhetorical at this point. In the silence that followed afterwards though, they found themselves waiting in anticipation as he considered it. Finally, he looked up at them, expression only half guarded.

---

Sans proposed the experiment. Sure, it was based on plans for a machine that Gaster had once, blue prints half considered before shelving, but it was him who found them, who brainstormed over them, him who finished them.

It was him who was placed in charge of the project, of the construction and planning. He stood proud, the honor of Gaster's faith in him making him really grin as he watched the others help him finish his project.

So, in the end, it was all his fault too.

Sans's major interests had always come back to two things; the study of time and the study of space. More importantly the physics of them and the study into how to bend both to your will. Time was rather impossible to manipulate, but space? That was far easier to fuck around with. When he was a child, he had found Gaster's discarded designs and kept them, admiring them even if he couldn't entirely grasp them.

When he was twenty, he pulled the designs back out and started to really study them again. It took two years, but he finally figured out what was needed to make the machine work. When he showed it to his brother, his bones nearly rattling with excitedly nervous energy and four shots of espresso, he had to stop himself from constantly pointing at the papers and charts, showing off the math and the changes he'd made to the schematics.

Finally, Gaster sat the papers down, tapping the ends until they were tidy—he was so maddeningly particular about things being tidy, even Papyrus thought it was a bit much. Sans had to physically clamp his hands together behind his back to keep from wrinkling his lab coat by grabbing it. "Sans. When I first handed you these notes, I had expected you to get rid of them for me," he began, voice drawling as he shifted in his chair. However, when his gaze finally landed on his brother, he smirked. "I'm starting to think you're obstinate on purpose."

The bottom of his left eye socket twitched as did his smile. "If I am, it's your fault."

Gaster snorted, but didn't deny it either.

Finally, Sans unfolded his arms to put them against his hips. "Oh, stop being an asshole already and tell me what you think! Does it sound okay or not?"

Closing his eyes sockets—no doubt to hide the fact he was rolling them at Sans—he reached out and tapped the papers. "Despite the fact that these calculations probably diverted your attention from more important things, the numbers and theories are sound. I have no reason to complain about them." He opened his eyes to find Sans gawking at him. Huffing an amused sigh, Gaster allowed himself a smile. "Congratulations are in order."

Sans straightened up a little taller. "Congratulations?"

"Mm. For finishing a puzzle I could not." While his brother reeled from that, Gaster reached out and patted his brother's shoulder. "I'll see about getting you an interview with Asgore to present the idea to him. More funding will be necessary to put this in action."

Sans wished suddenly that they were more of a hugging family. Instead, though, Sans just grinned wider.

It would take months of preparations and back breaking construction. They had to build a new lab in Waterfall just to house the machines necessary for it to work. The machine had to be big because if it worked, they would need a gateway big enough for monsters to escape en masse. The war would begin immediately once they were through, but Sans, Gaster, or the rest of the scientists didn't care about that really. This could very well be the moment that monsters escape the Underground.

And if it didn't work, well there was always the blue prints and the wonky prototype to go back to. But it would. Even Gaster agreed, the numbers were sound.

They were. They had to be.

(And that was the damning thing—Sans was still almost entirely sure they were correct. But he could never be entirely sure and it would eat him inside until he retreated into a husk of his former self before Papyrus broke back into his life and dragged him back out.)

The day of the experiment's first test run had the entire lab sizzling with energy. Even if the project had become Sans' baby, the other scientists were eager to help, happy to latch onto hope whenever it presented itself. Everyone was running about, crunching numbers, double checking everything, and tripping over each other as they went.

Sans grinned manically as he went over his own calculations one more time. He remembered later pausing for a moment to wish Alphys could have assisted them today—she had teaching duty that semester. He would have loved to have her around then to mercilessly rub it into her face that it was his project that had everyone excited. She was always the most fun to tease, being so easy to fluster.

He snorted to himself, shaking his head at his distraction, and turned back to look over his notes when a loud voice startled him.

"So, what exactly is all this?" Papyrus asked him, putting his hands on his hips as he regarded the great machine before him.

Sans's jaw fell open. "Pa…pyrus?"

His younger brother raised an eyebrow ridge at him. "Yes?"

He didn't answer for a moment; finally, he found his voice. "What are you doing here?"

Papyrus scowled, but it was Gaster's voice that cut in. He walked over to them, forcing a few of the other scientists to hop out of his way—the first rule of etiquette when it came to Gaster was to stay out of his way as much as possible. "I invited him. You're surprisingly late, Papyrus."

Papyrus scratched the back of his skull, flustered. "Unfortunately, there was some business I had to take care of in Snowdin."

"Never mind that for now. Come, I can't have you standing in the way here. We'll talk more after the test."

Sans heard Papyrus repeat his first question as their older brother shepherded him to a spot near the wall where no one would run into him. Once that was done, Gaster returned to Sans briefly.

"Last checks. How's the readouts?" Gaster asked, looking over his shoulder.

Even now, he's looming over me, Sans thought wryly as he inspected the computer before him. "What's Papyrus really doing here?"

Gaster gave him a flat, almost innocent look. "Because despite you two's little tiff, I expect you two to at least put some effort into your relationship, which means being there for certain life achievements. I expect you to be there when he's welcomed into the Royal Guard."

Sans's brow knit together as he gazed up at his elder brother. "Uh, you really think he'll get in?"

The elder skeleton straightened up. "Do you expect anything less from our brother?"

Sans closed his eyes, torn between the urge to roll them and to just sigh. "Heh. If you say so, old man."

Gaster shot him a withering look. "When you're on the clock, I expect more respect than that."

"Okay, doc," Sans shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Anyway. We're all green here."

"Well then, that means it's time. Get ready once I give my mark." Gaster walked past him, heading to the center of the room, calling for attention. While the other scientists and assistants listened to their instructions, Sans' gaze slid away from the group until it landed on Papyrus.

He found his younger brother gazing up at the machine appreciatively—Gaster must have explained some of what it was for. For a moment, gazing at his brother who was looking at his creation with something like wonder, Sans felt something twitch in his soul. For a moment, it was like looking through the years, to see a younger, innocent Papyrus again.

Huh, he thought, glancing back to his machine. Maybe he'd ask Papyrus out for drinks afterward. His little brother probably wouldn't drink, but he also probably wouldn't turn him down if Gaster agreed to go as well.

Heh. Look at me being all domestic and shit, he thought.

The experiment began and the lab became a symphony of action and data gathering. Scientists and assistants either staffed their stations, reading the data, or ran between stations, relying new data, checking different screens, or starting the next phase of the experiment. Sans felt like the composer of this organized madness, even as he played his own role. Papyrus's role was suddenly clear to him now—after all, what good was a symphony without an audience to witness it? And in the middle of the chaos, Gaster called out instructions and made snap decisions, just like the conductor. The data poured in and the machine hummed into life, power amassing inside as the piece swelled to a crescendo.

And then, like a sour note, a tiny alarm went off. In all the chaos, it was easily missed.

The next one, however, was not. One of the assistants, a monster that was more head and arms than body, warned them that they'd received a strange feedback message coming from the CORE. Everyone paused for a moment, frozen in shock and unease; Gaster clenched his jaw, but before he could even speak, six new alarms started to blare.

Sans remembered that for one distinct moment before the world went to hell, he felt a moment of irritation—after all, it would be his luck to fail in front of not one brother, but both. The moment after that, however, such petty concerns went out the window.

The lab devolved into a cacophony of shouting, alarms blaring, and below it all the steadily growing, foreboding hum of the machines. Someone shouted that something was definitely happening in the CORE. A power surge? No one could tell.

That was when the first fire ignited—one of the machines that was running tests overheated and burst into flame. Papyrus, who'd been at a loss to help, had plenty of experience accidentally making fires in the lab so he knew what to do; he grabbed a fire extinguisher and ran to put it out.

While one brother put out the fire and the other shouted orders, Sans was distracted for a moment. On top of the computer's monitor, a tiny thumbtack rattled; oddly, that was what he focused in on. One moment, it was still and silent, the next it rattled on top of the monitor. He looked up in time to see it skitter to the edge of the monitor and then roll off. Instead of falling to the floor directly behind the monitor though, it flew three feet behind it and kept skipping across the floor like a stone on a lake's surface. It jumped all the way past Gaster, who also noticed it, and three assistants and then took flight and flew through the air, straight into the gateway.

It did not fall back down once it went through. Nor did any of the papers that flew off desks that were also swept by some unseen force into the gateway. Inside the frame of the gateway, shadows shifted and blurred, like wet ink being smudged by a careless hand.

Well, Sans thought for a moment, looks like the gateway did work.

That was when the monster nearest the gateway shrieked as their chair began to roll towards the gateway on its own volition. They dove out of the chair, but they took an oddly long time to fall to the ground.

That was when pandemonium hit. A few of the monsters with the strongest survival instincts abandoned their compatriots and fled the lab. Braver monsters, however, stayed and tried to obey Gaster's commands to shut the machine down.

Like a boulder rolling down a hill, however, the machine kept amassing power and its pull to the gateway got stronger.

In the chaos, one of the assistants, a feisty Whimsum who Sans remembered for her mean cup of coffee, lost against the tug of the machine's pull and was yanked, screaming, towards the gateway. Blue magic caught her at the last moment; Papyrus had managed to catch her. He reeled her in with his magic and told her to evacuate before shoving her out of the room.

While he saved one assistant though, another small monster was yanked off his feet and dragged towards the portal.

No one caught him in time; he slipped into the gateway's shifting center and was gone.

That was when sheer terror overtook them; a few more tried to abandon their consoles, but one was snatched by the gravity of the machine and pulled back before they even had a chance to scream.

There was other screaming though, shrieks of horror as monsters fled, the alarms roaring as the machines shorted out and exploded. And yet, in his memory, Sans could still see Gaster, standing in the center of the room, trying to organize the escape of the others and the termination of the experiment, even as he had to clutch at a machine to keep himself upright.

Sans had been too distracted looking at his brother, too deep into his own horror, to even notice as the console under his hands grew hot. After all, he hardly noticed heat in the first place. He did, however, notice when the console exploded in his face, bursting into flames. He got one startled shout as he staggered backwards. His feet slipped and he started to fall to the side; but he never hit the ground.

He, too, felt a pull to the machine. And then his body started to drift that way on its own accord.

He'd gotten halfway to it when magic as powerfully familiar as a lullaby after a nightmare caught him. He looked up in time to see Gaster's shaking hand glow blue while his irises burned like red lanterns in his eye sockets. For a moment, their gazes locked and Sans was almost relieved.

Then Gaster gritted his teeth and hurled his arm around, sending Sans flying towards the lab's exit. He crashed bodily into Papyrus, who caught him with a muffled 'oof' as they fell backwards into the opposite wall of the hall. And then, before either could pick themselves back up, Gaster reached for the console of the machine he clutched.

Sans could still remember as Gaster smashed a button on it, the violence of the blow breaking the face of the machine. Then a metal door slammed down directly in front of the brothers, sealing the lab off from the hall.

If Papyrus had physical vocal chords, the scream that tore out of his mouth would have shredded them. "Wing!" he shrieked slamming his hands helplessly against the containment door. "Brother! Open the door!"

Sans was on his feet and smacking against the door as well, but inside the lab, the roar only grew louder. Afterwards, he would wonder if not being able to see Gaster's final moments was blessing or a curse; had their brother been scared or brave in his last moments? Had he trembled before the pull yanked him into the gateway, or had he squared his shoulders and met it head on?

He would never know.

They both banged their fists against the door, screaming, but paused when the door began to groan. When the walls around the door began to moan as well, Sans took a step back. It's tearing the walls apart, he thought, feeling a chill steal into his marrow. It's not going to stop until it tears the whole facility apart or the connection to the Core breaks and

Sans froze. "We got to get outside."

Papyrus recovered enough to gawk at his brother in outraged horror. "We are not leaving him in there!"

He longed to reach out and shake sense into his younger brother; instead, he just grabbed Papyrus by the uniform's shirt. "We got to destroy the power transformer outside the facility and break the connection to the CORE. If we kill the power, it'll pull the plug on the-"

The walls in front of them groaned on last time; they had time only to turn and stare in horror as the wall to the left of the door gave up the fight and buckled inward. The pull from the other side tore a jagged chunk free from the wall. On the other side of the wall, darkness yawned, deeper than the abyss below Waterfall.

(PHOTON READINGS NEGATIVE.)

Papyrus took a step back, nearly stepping into him, but Sans hardly noticed. Insides the darkness, something swirled.

(THIS NEXT EXPERIMENT)

Was it a figure? Movement? His hopeful eyes playing tricks on him?

(SEEMS)

As he pulled his gaze from the darkness beyond the walls, he could still see something in the air as he turned. Strange flashes of lights, like tiny light bulbs exploded as they overloaded. He turned still, until he was facing away from the door. And yet, the distortion in the air followed, making the space around them look strange and blurred as the gateway's middle had been. Looking at the flashes, it reminded him, oddly enough, of looking through a beaded curtain into a room on the other side. Gazing past the flashes, he looked and stared when he could see the crystal studded walls of Waterfall outside the facility. He blinked, uncomprehending.

(VERY)

The world around them groaned as reality tore at the seams, but he could still hear Papyrus's gasp as the first tendrils of the pull reached for them. Soon, it would pull both of them in as well.

(VERY)

Clenching his jaw, Sans grabbed his brother by the arm and pulled as he pushed his way through the flashes.

(INTERESTING)

There was supposed to be a wall here, he knew it should be, and yet nothing stopped him as he forced his way through the layers of flashing lights. As he pushed his way through, the flashes changed—instead of being lights, he could see letters and numbers, things that made no sense. Fun values, room numbers, kill counts? He ignored them all and focused instead on tugging his brother along.

And then, they were out. Sans stumbled and fell to his knees, nearly yanking Papyrus down with him.

Sans blinked and stared down at his hand, which was buried now in the cold dirt of Waterfall. He lifted it and ground his fingertips together, watching as the sticky sand rubbed off his digits. We got out, he thought, baffled. We walked through at least six walls of metal and pipes and who knows what else in less than a second. How-?

There was no time to think; Papyrus suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to turn and look up at him. "Sans! Where is the power transformer? How do I shut it off?!"

Sans blinked but then shoved Papyrus out of his way as he scrambled up and took off running around the side of the building. He staggered and almost ate dirt as he turned the corner, but he managed to keep himself upright. Behind him, he could hear Papyrus racing after him. Rather than waste time, he summoned a blaster and aimed it at the large structure towards the back of the facility that housed the power transformers.

The facility's outer walls began to groan like the ones inside had; there was little time before the facility was sucked in on itself.

As he charged a blast, he felt Papyrus grab his free hand; magic flowed through the physical connection. At any other moment, he might have been caught off guard to combine magic with his brother, something they hadn't done in nearly ten years. Instead, he let Papyrus' magic reshape the blaster until it was twice the size it had been before. Without a word, they released the blast together and red light flashed like a bolt of lightning, brightening all of Waterfall for a brief moment. Then the power transformer exploded in a ball of flame and magic, smacking them off their feet.

Sans laid there for a moment and coughed. Every inch of him protested as he sat up, but he had to look around. Papyrus picked himself up off the ground, rising cautiously as they looked up at the building.

For a moment, it was silent.

"Is it over?" Papyrus asked after a moment. "Did we shut it off in time?"

Then the building shrieked.

Metal tore like tissue paper, rising up into the air; pipes, tables, computers, doors floated high in the air above them as the labs' outer walls ripped themselves apart. Then everything flooded inward, like water going down a drain. Sans yelped in shock as the powerful pull yanked everything inside.

The last thing to disappear was a gray, wooden door; it had been a door for a utility closet in the second floor. The door floated for a moment before it surged towards the black point nestled near the wall. Before it was sucked in, the door slammed into the wall and looked almost like it was supposed to be there. Then it too was pulled in.

And then, it all abruptly stopped.

Various detritus fell to the earth around them, nothing bigger than a paperclip. Shredded paper, a few loose screws, and a candy wrapper were all that was left of the lab; all that work reduced to so little trash. Perhaps most damningly of all, there was no sign of monster dust anywhere. While there were more than a few funerals these days with no dust to present, Sans wasn't even sure who was

(Their brother, standing for as long as he could in the middle of the lab, slamming the button for the containment door. He could still remember the grip of blue magic on him as Gaster threw him to safety. Their brother is)

Missing.

Sans took a shuddering breath.

Missing. Yes—there was no bodies here. They couldn't just run around alarming everyone and their families. Because they didn't know if

(Gaster)

Everyone was just misplaced. They could be, couldn't they? They had to be.

They had to be.

(Their brother is-)

---

(WHAT DO YOU TWO THINK?)

---

Frisk paused, waiting for the story to continue, but Sans didn't speak. During the telling, he'd half crawled while they half pulled him until he sprawled across their lap. He hadn't fallen asleep—they could tell from how tense his back was as they rubbed one of their hands across it. When his body refused to relax, they frowned. He's probably got himself all twisted up in some dark thoughts. Well, there's no way I'm leaving him to stew with them. "What happened after that?"

He twitched, but they felt his back start to relax as he began to speak again. "The scientists who had fled came back shortly after the explosion. They tried to ask us what happened, but when we told them, they got confused. They kept insisting that they hadn't been there for the experiment, but they also couldn't say why they were there either. Everyone kept shouting questions at each other until Papyrus tried to ask if anyone had seen our brother." He paused and let out an uneasy breath. "They got confused, all of them. They remembered him for a moment and then it faded. Me and Paps tried constantly to remind them, but after the fifth time in ten minutes, we just gave up. Afterwards, when we would try to lead anyone back to the place, we could never find it. It was like it'd only show up if it wanted to.

"In the end, the explosion was written off as an accident. I was put on probation since I admitted to helping destroy the transformer. Not that it mattered." He let his eyes slide shut as they rubbed his shoulders. "I quit a couple days after the accident."

Part of them begged not to ask—this whole conversation was so much more than they'd bargained for—but there was still tension in his back and a pinched look in his face. "Why?"

For a moment, they thought he wouldn't answer. Then he rolled over so that he was facing upward; his gaze however, didn't land on them, even when they settled their hands over his chest, and finally he just shut them again. "I couldn't stand to be in the labs anymore. I kept expecting him to turn up around any corner or just pop up from behind one of the machines. I was turning into a nervous wreck.

"It wasn't just that though. Gaster's presence should have been all over every inch of any of the labs; he lived in them, even after me and Pap both moved out. He spent every moment of the day there, for years and years, since long before Paps or I was born. No one spent more time in them but him.

"And yet, it was like he was never there. His books, his tools, his piles of old notebooks that he never threw away because he always insisted that there might be something important for later in them… they were all gone. Even stupid shit, like this ridiculous poster he put up in the break room to spite us because we all complained it was too boring in there. Or the stupid stuffed deer head Alphys found in the trash once that she gave to him. He would put it in really unsettling places to freak out anyone who stumbled on it. But then it disappeared too. It all disappeared. Everything except the data that he kept stored in the computer banks."

Frisk's brows knit together. "The computer banks?"

"Yeah. I don't know how, but for some reason the information stored in our servers didn't disappear. Well, most of it. Some of the files had giant chunks missing out of them. Once I found out about them, I made it my mission to try and compile the remains of his research. I knew it wouldn't help anything, and yet, I just got lost trying to put it all together. I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off."

They smiled softly and reached up to gently pet his cheekbone. "And did you?"

"I got what I could, but a lot of it was just useless shit. Just junk that he couldn't bear to part with, that kept me running in circles." He paused before reaching up and grabbing their hand that stroked his cheek. Instead of pulling it away, he pressed their hand against the side of his face and held it there, eyes still shut. "I went a little crazy trying to find something useful in them. After awhile of nothing working out, I tried to recreate some of his experiments, to recapture lost data. Some of it worked. Most of it didn't.

"For awhile, I even tried to recreate the gateway experiment. I got it in my head that maybe when we tried to readjust for a bigger gateway that we'd screwed up the math somewhere. I went back to the very basics, all the way back to his original prototype even." He sighed. "I could never get it to work. The prototype was broken, my math was wrong. I could never figure out what to do to fix it.

"It… got to me. I stopped talking to others, stopped taking care of myself. At first I was solely focused on fixing the machine, but when I finally realized I never could, I just…" he shrugged. "I went to bed and didn't come out for four days."

They winced. Monsters needed to eat and drink just like humans, needed to exercise at least a little. They had a leg up when it came to the fact they didn't need to use the bathroom like humans, but they still had to look after their hygiene. "So what changed?"

"Papyrus nearly broke my door down. I think someone called him and asked him to check on me."

"Alphys?" they suggested.

"Maybe. I dunno. All I know is that he broke my lock trying to get in. He took one look at me and my apartment and announced I was coming to live with him whether I wanted to or not." He huffed, a sound that might have been a laugh or a sigh; it was hard to tell. "I couldn't find the energy to fight him. I refused to leave the servers behind, but even back then, I could see he had a point. And it was easier, having someone boss me around. I could stop thinking so hard about everything, to just follow orders." He paused and opened one eye socket to look up at them. "And that's why I get fucked up every year around now."

"It's a hell of a reason," they offered after a moment where they ignored their rolling stomach.

"So, congratulations. You've unlocked my tragic backstory. I guess that makes you a level seven friend now," he announced dryly.

They tried to smile, but they couldn't barely manage to tug the corners of their mouth up. "I feel accomplished." When he only managed a chuckle, they patted his cheekbone. After a moment, they used their free hand to pat his sternum. "Let me up."

"I don't wanna," he groaned, shutting his eyes.

"I'm not getting up. I want to lie down." When he opened one eye back up, they smiled down at him. "Let's stay in bed for awhile. I already cleared our schedules for us."

"Oh. Thank god," he sighed even as he reluctantly climbed out of their lap. "I was not looking forward to working today."

---

Long before Frisk learned how Gaster vanished, long before they learned how he created Sans and Papyrus, long before they learned how he lived, Frisk learned first of what happened after he vanished. In the long hours of the night when most people slept, when Frisk couldn't find sleep, Sans would come sit with them as they sat around in the kitchen, where the lights wouldn't wake up others. He'd join them at the table and sometimes he'd talk about things that had come before. Rarely did he tell the same tale; some were of his childhood, some of recent years, and some that had nothing to do with him.

The first night he talked about Gaster, it was after Sans came downstairs and immediately got out the whiskey. They raised a glass to each other, but after sitting the glass down, Frisk had frowned at his darkened eye sockets and decided to take a risk.

"Sans, what happened to your eye?"

Sans considered his drink a long time before he spoke.

It happened less than a month after he moved in with Papyrus. After Papyrus forced him to get a job, after he gave up trying to fix the machine in his workshop that Papyrus had generously given him.

He met the gray figure in Waterfall. After the accident, he'd taken to walking through Waterfall. It was stupid, it was dangerous, it was asking for trouble—which was why he did it. At least in those moments, in between snarling threats and warnings at the ones that did cross his path, Sans hoped for dangerous things that he didn't even like to think about.

One day, he turned from the main path—always a bad idea, which is exactly why he wanted to do it. He was disappointed, however, to find that the turn only led to a tiny dock, barely even far enough from the main path to count as a detour. Sitting on the dock, a small, shadowy figure looked down at the waters directly below them.

Sans blinked at the child—there was something off about the kid. Well, more so than just the fact that the child was alone in the middle of the open. Even if killing children was forbidden, even under the Edict, that didn't mean there wasn't some freaks out there that wouldn't love to get some easy EXP like a kid sitting in the middle of nowhere.

If he were a decent monster, he would walk up to the kid and order them to go home. Hell, as a sentry, he probably had that much authority at least.

Instead, after a moment of thought, he started to turn away. He frowned, or rather as much as he could frow, as he turned, something under his ribs twisting in disgust with himself.

A voice, however, cut through the melancholic gloom of water lapping at ancient rocks. "I met a man upon the stair. He wasn't there again today."

Sans froze.

"Oh, how I wish he'd go away."

Slowly, he turned back to look at the child. Squinting into the dark, he tried to make out more of the child; but there was so little light in this part of Waterfall in the first place. There were no crystals here, either, to shine light on. Was the child gray all over, or was that just the terrible lighting? Was the kid even talking to him? And what were those strange shadows on the back of the kid's head? It was almost as if they were-

He paused, unsettled by his own thoughts. To distract himself, he made sound like he was clearing his throat. "Did you say something to me?"

The child paused before slowly turning their head; Sans had never understood the strange myth he heard of humans and animals sometimes vomiting in fear as it just seemed a waste of food. But then, as he looked gazes with those empty white eyes, he felt something in him churning. He had to fight every instinct he had that shrieked at him to look away and start running.

The child blinked. "Hey. Can I ask you a question?"

Sans froze; his brain screamed at him to say no, but his traitor body shrugged his shoulders without his consent.

"Have you ever thought about a world where everything was exactly the same... But you don't exist?"

Sans's brows knit together. "What?"

The kid turned their unsettling gaze away, continuing as if he hadn't spoken at all. "Everything functions perfectly without you…" There was a pause and then the most unsettling laugh Sans had ever heard, a laugh that made him want to rattle his bones just to drown it out. "The thought terrifies me."

He opened his mouth, paused, then shook his head. "Kid, I don't know what the hell you're going on about, but go home and just… go do something normal. Go eat a cookie or draw on the wall or…" he paused, glancing away. "Go play with your brother. But just… get the hell out of here. This is no place for kids."

To his dismay, the kid just shook their head again. "I can't go back. Did you hear? The man who isn't there is there again today."

Sans hunkered deeper into his coat, as if it would protect him, make a barrier between the two of them. "The man who isn't there? Kid, you sound like you're fucking-" He paused.

A man. A man who wasn't there. A man who didn't exist.

A man who didn't exist to anyone else. Except for maybe a few people, or rather, in the memories of a few.

Sans clenched his fists in his pockets. Well. Perhaps he could do his job for once and scout out a few things—that was part of the job after all, wasn't it? Be on the lookout for stuff? Raising his chin, he looked at the kid as directly as he could before he felt his bones want to shake. "Alright, kid. Where exactly did you meet this man, huh?"

Perhaps worse than anything that came before this, the child looked at him square as well. "The place where you saw him last, of course."

Sans froze, ice gripping his soul like a vice. Shaking his head, he turned and began to walk away. "Whatever. Get your ass home, kid. It's not safe here." He picked up his pace, eager to get away from the unsettling child, but then he heard their voice again.

This time, the voice was softer and almost normal, even if the words were not. "You should be careful, Sans. Not every part of that man wants you there. Not every part of him will be happy to see you there."

Sans froze and then whirled around.

The child was already gone.

"Oh, fuck that," he muttered, shifting around to look among the weeds. "Now I got random kids telling me creepy shit and vanishing. Fuck that."

Still, he thought as he clenched his fists. This was the closest thing he had to a lead yet. Could he really ignore it?

In the end, he decided he simply couldn't and turned to hurry to the place that haunted his nightmares.

He hadn't expected anything to be there.

But there was.

Standing there, Sans gawked at a familiar wooden door smack dab in the middle of the wall of solid rock. In spite of it never appearing after the accident, suddenly it had reappeared.

For a moment, he wondered if someone was playing a sick game with him, and then he just wondered if he was hallucinating. Both ideas were ugly and repellant, and nowhere near as tantalizing as the next thought that he had—that maybe, the door was a sign. A sign of something trying to return.

He grabbed the door, hoping to check behind it, but to his surprise, it was somehow fastened to the wall. After a moment of startled bemusement, he tried to open it as he would a normal door and found that it swung open easily. Beyond the doorway, inky blackness formed a barrier from seeing in. When he stuck his arm, his bones almost looked bleached against the shadows.

Yanking his arm back out, Sans considered the door and took a step back. "Nope. Whatever this is, I'm not sticking my stupid head in some pitch black-"

Later, he told Frisk that he heard something in the shadows, the sound of something small and metallic hitting the floor. The truth was that when he looked in again, he saw a familiar looking lighter of black and silver, standing out starkly from the unnatural black, sitting in a patch of darkness not three feet in front of him.

Hope rose up in his chest to grab him by the throat. He stumbled in through the doorway, falling to his knees to scoop up his find. Examining it for a moment, he clutched to his chest like an amulet of protection before looking around the shadows, desperation pressing against his ribs from the inside until it felt like they would crack from the pressure. "Dings! Doc, you hear me?" he screamed into the darkness.

Nothing.

Gritting his teeth, he climbed up to his feet. "Old man! Are you here or not?"

Behind them, there was a creak, sending a shiver down his spine. As he turned, he saw the door slowly swinging shut, cutting the light off from outside, but not dimming the space inside any. With a strangle shout, he scrambled to catch the door in time, but a voice from the depths around him, made him freeze.

"Sans…"

The door swung shut.

Fear and hope warred in him; terrified of disappointment, he didn't want to look and find himself alone. Hope, however, won swiftly and he whirled around.

Well. He wasn't alone.

A figure stood, half hunched over; most of the figure seemed somehow darker than their surroundings, but at the same time, the bottom of the figure's form blended directly into the floor. As dark as the figure was, it made the bleached white of their head and hands stick out all the more. Or rather, made his skull stick out more.

Sans's eyes widened; the lighter slipped from his phalanges. "D-doc?"

The figure lifted his head, although a glob of black goop slipped out of the mouth and splashed into the floor before sinking in and vanishing. "Sans. Good of you to come."

He staggered forward, nearly tripping. "Oh, fuck, doc, it's really you. This is where you went?"

His brother nodded, sending more of himself dripping down. "Mm. For some time."

Sans winced. "Good fucking—what happened to you? Christ, are you… well, no, fuck, of course you're not okay. Do you… hurt? Anywhere?"

Like a balloon deflating, his brother suddenly collapsed in on himself, melting into a puddle on the ground. Sans yelped and had to jump back to keep the sludge from splashing on his shoes. After a moment of shocked silence, Gaster's face reappeared in the middle of the mess, like a piece of trash resurfacing from the waters of Waterfall. "Sans. I've been waiting for you."

Face falling, Sans dropped to his knees but when he held out his hands, he realized he had no idea what he was supposed to do. He couldn't just start scooping him and dumping into a bucket or something. "Fuck, doc. Dings, tell me what to do. I don't—what can I do?"

Slowly, like he was fighting gravity, Gaster fought his way up until he was nearly eye level with his kneeling brother. "Help me. Promise. Promise to help me."

"Yes, fuck, Dings, of course! Of course, I'll help," he half shouted desperately as he watched his half melted brother start to deflate again. "Just—just tell me what to do." He flinched as more parts of his brother's face oozed black viscous fluid down his skull. "Aw, hell, doc. Whatever you need."

For a moment, all the melting and oozing stopped as his brother gazed at him dead in the eye. "Thank you, Sans. I knew coming to this you was the correct choice."

Sans paused. "This me?"

He never got a chance to ask Gaster what he meant.

One moment, his brother was a literal puddle on the ground; the next, that shapeless hand snapped forward and buried itself in Sans's right eye socket. Sans gasped, more startled than hurt at first. Then, however, Gaster twisted his fingers and something in Sans's eye socket caught and twisted with the gesture.

Instantly, Sans's entire existence morphed into agony. Whatever it was Gaster had a hold of in his socket—there wasn't even anything in there to grab, what the hell was he grabbing, oh fuck, this hurt—sent sharp, stabbing pains deep into his skull and beyond. Sans opened his mouth as if it would help him scream, but in the end, all that came out was an agonized whimper of shock. He couldn't move as surely as if his brother had enveloped him in blue magic—and maybe he had because Sans honestly could not move.

Then Gaster pulled and Sans learned a new world of pain.

One last tug and Gaster yanked his arm back. Something in his hand glowed a deep bloody red, but Sans barely noted it. Instead, he landed backwards in a heap. Finally, he found his voice and he started to scream in pain. Rolling over, he pressed a hand to his eye socket and shuddered when he felt something bleeding out of his socket and around his fingers. Horrified, he looked and flinched at the sight of pale sand piling up on the floor below him.

Dust, he thought, breath rattling in his ribcage, I'm bleeding dust. Oh god. Is he trying to kill me?

Slowly, with stuttering strength, he looked up in time to see Gaster hold up the red glowing thing in his hand as if studying it. He didn't even seem to realize that Sans was even there anymore.

"Dings… what did you do to me?" he tried to growl, but it only came out as a trembling stutter.

His brother glanced at him for a moment and Sans flinched under his gaze. It might have well not been his brother at all—Gaster looked down at him with a sort of disinterest that he only showed inanimate objects like a misplaced shoe. "Don't panic. It's just a little bit of your code." He glanced back at the light. "This is an experiment, Sans. An experiment to create a connection to reality. To create an anchor."

"My code? What… what the fuck are you talking about?"

He shot Sans an unimpressed look. "Your code, Sans. The data of your existence." He looked back to the glowing thing while Sans's breath vanished from his chest. "Your magic. A bit of your soul, if you will."

Before Sans even had a chance to scream, Gaster lifted the magic up and then dropped it down his mouth.

Sans watched as his brother gulped down a fragment of his soul while dust bled out of his eye.

There was a long moment where Sans choked on his horror and a small part of him wished desperately for the ability to vomit, so maybe he could just puke up whatever it was that was twisting him up so hard. Oh fuck.

Gaster paused and frowned, looking down to examine his hands. "Hm. Nothing. Tch. Perhaps I should have tried Papyrus instead."

Sans gagged.

The noise caught the other monster's attention; he turned to look down at Sans, still shaking on the floor, one hand still clutching his damaged skull. "Well. Perhaps I just didn't take enough. No matter." He turned, reaching out his hand again.

Wincing, Sans tried to back up and ended up flopping backwards before he scrambled, still flat on his ass, backwards. "Stay away from me! You—whatever the fuck you are, stay back!"

"Sit still, Sans. I finally might have found a use for you. No need to disappoint me again so soon."

Sans tried not to scream in horror and frustration as he realized that he still hadn't reached a wall or even the door to help him pull himself up off the ground. He just kept backing up, on and on.

Gaster followed him, moving forward like a puddle of water down an incline. His hand stretched for Sans again. "Backing out on your promise already, Sans? Can't you appreciate how many struggles I went through trying to discover ways just to create you and your brother?"

Sans put his hand down, to try and pull himself back again, but this time he flinched at the feeling of strange viscous gunk below his hand. Glancing behind him, he could have cried to see that ever expanding puddle of goop behind him. Had he somehow circled around until he ended up against Gaster's back? How was that even possible?

"I see. You refuse to help. Even though you're the reason this world's me is like this."

Sans's face snapped back forward. His head spun as dust drifted down onto his clothes. "N-no, Dings! I didn't mean for this—you gotta understand…"

A pair of hands clapped onto his shoulders from the back, drawing him up short. "No, Sans. You are the one who won't see. You made the machine. Your experiment." The voice came from over his shoulder; when he turned his head, Gaster's skull was behind him. "Your fault. Now. Sit still."

Fear and guilt choked him. He had thought that it was true, that it'd been his fault; had known it down in his marrow. But it was something entirely different to heard it said out loud, and by the one who'd he wronged in the first place. "D-dings…" he tried, helpless.

"Yes, you do know it. It's your fault. But you can make it right. Don't you want to make it right, Sans?"

There's a way to make things… right? he thought, sluggishly. His brain felt odd—everything felt a little soupy. But one thing remained strong—the guilt was still eating at his soul. There can't be. That was too good to be true.

And yet…

On the other hand, if there really was a way to make up for everything, shouldn't he do it? Shouldn't he do everything he possibly could? No cost would be too great, since nothing could ever be enough. He had to do it.

After all, if he couldn't, what else was left for him?

"There. You're finally listening for once." Gaster's voice sounded distant as Sans' eyes slid shut. A chill was creeping into his marrow, leaving him feeling more tired than ever before. "You'll finally being useful."

He could do this, for him. He had to do it.

He didn't deserve anything better than this.

As he sank deeper into cold, he heard Gaster speak again. "And if you can't be useful, well, maybe Papyrus will be instead."

For a moment, he almost lurched back out of that cold, but its grip was too strong. Again, he sank further into the cold.

When the pain started, the chill in his bones kept him silent, even as his mind screamed. Like before, he could feel a tug at his core, a pull on his magic. Something was tearing at his soul and it felt like he was coming apart. He could feel his bones grinding together as something pulled and smashed at his soul, beating at him as relentless as the undertow.

Perhaps it was for the best that he was paralyzed. Gaster had never been impressed by begging or sobbing anyway.

He failed to endure the pain and felt lost to it for what felt like hours. Agony tended to eschew perception of time like that. Finally, the pain vanished, although the chill didn't. He would have wept in relief if he had even that much control of his body.

"Astounding. Even now, you're still useless. I don't know why I'm surprised. Every one of you is just as useless." His brother didn't snarl in contempt, and somehow that was worse—instead he spoke with a dispassionate bluntness that he knew so well. "This means I will have to try Papyrus next. Hm."

The mention of his brother's name shook him. No, he thought. Gaster was right about it being his fault, but Papyrus had nothing to do with this. It'd been his fault—it was his experiment, his machine, his failure.

But not Papyrus's.

Sans tried to move but only managed a pathetic whimper of protest.

"Stop that. No one's impressed with disgusting displays of weakness. Now then, Papyrus… ah. Well, that's useful. He's near the lure now. Let's summon him, shall we? Mm, perhaps his form will be more suitable to house me."

Trapped inside his own body, Sans winced in horror. Gaster wanted to use Papyrus to house him? While he wasn't sure entirely what that meant, Sans had a good guess and it was enough to make him want to scream again.

He had to do something; while he surely deserved this (didn't he?), Papyrus didn't and he had to stop it. He couldn't let anything happen.

If only he could do anything. The ice in his bones kept him locked in place. He couldn't so much as twitch a finger or close his good eye—even his hurt one gaped open, dust pooling in the socket.

Why couldn't he move? What, was the possible maiming—or worse—of Papyrus not enough for him? Couldn't he do even this small thing?

Heh. Gaster was right. He really was useless.

He tried, again and again, to rail against the chill inside him, to move even an inch, but nothing happened. He tried to summon magic, but he couldn't even get a tiny bone bullet to form. Useless, useless, useless! I really am useless. I can't do it. Not even for Pap.

Time passed, not that he knew how much as he was too distracted trying desperately to do something. And then, all at once, a new sound shattered his concentration.

Someone was turning the knob on the door.

Above him, Gaster vanished as if he'd never been there at all. And yet, the chill kept a firm grip on him. All he could do was watch, horrified, as the door swung open.

Papyrus barged in, the door swinging wide as he stepped in. He paused only for a moment to look around.

The moment his gaze landed on Sans, the elder brother felt his soul quake. Oh fuck, Pap. Nononono! Get out of here, go back! Run away, you idiot, go!

If his brother noticed his distress, he immediately ignored it; Papyrus's eye sockets widened as he looked down at him. "Sans! What's happened to your eye?" his voice rang into the void, loud as a thunderclap as he raced into the room. He fell on his knees next to his brother, reaching out and grabbing Sans's face to look into the eye socket. "Sans, you're bleeding dust. What did you do?"

Run, you moron! he wanted to sob.

Behind his brother, the darkness swirled; the black goo gushing figure had returned. Seeing him appear, Sans's good eye could only widen in horror as those hands reached for Papyrus.

They never had a chance to connect. Before Gaster's hands got near Papyrus, a ring of bones shot up from the ground around him and Sans, angling up into Gaster. The oozing monster flinched back, dragging his body off the bone spears as he slid back and away.

Papyrus turned, ready to snarl at his attacker, but froze as he caught sight of the retreating form before him. After a moment of his jaw hanging ajar, he managed to muster his voice. "Sans, what have you gotten us into…?"

Perhaps the attack had frightened the chill off—perhaps the cold in his marrow had never been a part of him after all and Gaster was the one who had been frightened off—but Sans finally found the will to move. Reaching up, he grabbed Papyrus by the humerus and shook the bone. "We gotta go. Before he hurts you too. We have got to leave, now!"

The shifting form froze for a second before it quickly began to surge upward, rising up until he towered twelve from top to the floor. He spread and shifted until he looked broad as a mountain and nothing like he'd had just before. Had he wanted to look weak and pathetic before? Sans had no idea. Black sludge surged outward from his sides, like a pair of giant black wings before his hands pushed out of the muck. Long bone spears rose up out of the sludge as well, looking surprisingly solid despite the monster that created them.

Sans didn't want to find out if they hit just as hard as Gaster had once been able to either. "Papyrus!" he shouted again, shaking his brother's arm.

For once, Papyrus didn't argue or demand an explanation, something the dust bleeding eye socket helped encourage. Pulling Sans's hand off his arm, he kept hold of that wrist and channeled blue magic through Sans until he was enveloped down to his soul. Without his body's resistance, Papyrus quickly hauled Sans out of the room. He all but dropped Sans onto the silt covered ground before he reached back and slammed the door behind him. As the door shut, three bones punched through, startling Papyrus into staggering back.

Papyrus waited for a moment, waiting to see if the door would open and their enemy would return. Instead, he could only watched in confusion as the bones melted away before the door was absorbed by the wall, vanishing from sight without a single sign to show it had been there in the first place.

After a long pause, Papyrus released a stuttering breath. "Sans, just what the fuck is going on here?"

Sans tried to find the strength to pick himself up, but it was all he could do to stay on his hands and knees, how Papyrus had left him to hit the ground. Eventually, he gave up the fight to gravity to slump over so he could clutch his eye socket and try not to whimper. Distantly, he heard Papyrus curse and then felt a barrage of thumps. With a gasp, his health returned as the healing bullets were absorbed into him.

Papyrus look down at him, studying him; whatever he saw made him sigh in what sounded like was relief. Probably just glad to see his hard work hadn't gone to waste. Still, after looking Sans over, he winced as his gaze met Sans's. "Your eye is… not better."

A sob hammered at his ribs, but he grit his teeth to keep it back. "It was him. He… he ripped it out of me."

"He… ripped it out? How can he… that… that has to be impossible."

Sans tried not to flinch as he pressed a hand to the empty eye socket. If he focused, he could shift a little of his magic over into the socket, barely enough to see Papyrus as a vague shadow. The eye socket felt… empty was the only way to describe it. The magic that should have been there was just gone. As far as he knew, skeletons didn't actually go blind if their eye sockets got damaged—a socket could break and close permanently, but their eyes were as magic as the rest of them and pretty resilient. Even Gaster hadn't been truly blind with his busted eye socket.

The thought of his brother, reaching for his eye before he ripped the magic out, made him want to vomit like a human, to purge this nausea that made his magic churn. Clutching his hands to his eye, he curled in on himself. "I know what happened! I was fucking there! He said he ripped the magic out and that's what it fucking felt like, okay?"

Papyrus opened his mouth once, twice, and then grimaced. "Do you… did he say who he was?"

His churning emotions turned his voice scornful as he scoffed. "You know who the fuck that was."

Papyrus went very still, clenching and unclenching his fists as he scowled back, his gloves creaking as his grip tightened each time. "No. I don't. Because what you're insinuating is impossible."

"It was him, alright?!"Sans snarled, his hand rattling against his skull despite how hard he was pressing it to his face. "It was Dings!"

Silence for a long, painfully long, minute. "You're lying."

Sans wanted to scream until all that remained in his head was the ringing of his own shouts, pushing out reality until he could maybe breathe again. "It was fucking him, okay? I would know my own fucking brother-"

"THAT," Papyrus screeched, his voice making Sans jump. "WAS NOT OUR BROTHER!"

Sans paused for a long time. God, he wanted to throw up. Maybe then the inside of his chest would stop hurting.

Perhaps Papyrus took the silence for acceptance, or maybe he actually picked up on the stunned resentment in it. Either way, he began to speak, voice trembling with fury and fear alike. "That was not Wing! Our brother never would have hurt you. He wouldn't hurt you or me. He…" he stumbled over his words, grimacing as he spat his words. "We were important. To him. To his work. He'd never hurt us, never. So, you're lying."

Each word pounded away, each angry tear made Sans's soul wince. But it was the complete desperate disbelief in Papyrus's face that finally broke something deep in Sans. One moment, burning, indignant fury wailed about the injustice of it all. And the next, something went cold and a wave of exhaustion overtook him.

Papyrus, his own brother, who'd seen and even fought against the misshapen figure of their brother refused to believe him?

Fine.

Why even be surprised?

He let his hand drop to the ground; when he did, he felt it collide with something. Looking down, he saw the lighter. How had it gotten out there? He didn't know. Instead, he picked it up and dropped it into his pocket. He could worry about it later. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep.

Closing his good eye socket, Sans laid his head back down onto the cold dirt of the ground. "Fuck you," Sans managed, but there was no heat to his words. Instead, he focused on his breathing while Papyrus fumed and cursed him, ignoring all of it. Even when Papyrus picked him up and began to shake him, Sans kept his eyes closed. Eventually, the words ran dry and Papyrus stopped shaking him.

After a long stretch of silence, Papyrus shifted his grip and carried him back to the house. Somewhere, long before they reached home, Sans fell asleep. Hours later, he'd wake up, screaming, as he tried to claw his way out of his nightmares.

The first of his nightmares about a man lost in the void.

It took twenty minutes for Sans to finish the story, his eye sockets dark the entire time as he nursed his glass of whiskey. As he finished, he seemed to realize for the first time that the bottle was almost empty. He scowled.

Before he could find the will to get up, Frisk stood. He paused, not looking up at them, but waiting; it made them frown all the harder. They walked around the table, pulled out the chair closest to him, sat, and pulled him into a hug.

He tensed for a sliver of a second before he relaxed into their arms. When they started petting the curve of his skull, he closed his eyes and sighed.

"I'm sorry," they murmured, voice no louder than his had ever been during the entire story. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

He nodded; after all, if there was anyone's sympathy he could accept, it'd be theirs. They had, after all, gone through much of the same thing. He knew it was less sympathy and more empathy, and the thought they could understand it too well made part of him ache. "I know." He let them hold him for a minute longer before he pulled back from them. "That wasn't the last we saw of him."

Frisk hid a grimace and reached for his hand, bracing themselves for whatever horror came next. "What happened next?"

He didn't react much to their hand, just let them squeeze his without an apparent care. "People started going missing."

Frisk straightened. "What?"

He continued as if they hadn't spoken. "Monsters. All of them were scientists, and they'd all been there the day of experiment. At first, we had no idea anything was happening. After the accident, I didn't speak to any other scientists for a long time. They'd tried to bug me to come back, but after awhile they all just stopped. I thought they'd just gotten a clue. But then one day Alphys had to call me to ask if I still had any of the data from an old experiment we'd worked on together. When I gave her the data, I noticed how empty the lab was, so I asked her about it. Asked where the other scientists were, where so-and-so's stuff had gone to.

"She looked at me like I was crazy. I tried to ask her about everyone I could think of, but she had no idea who most of them were. These were people who we spent ages with—she worked with them as an intern for a months and then years as a doctor, and still she couldn't remember them.

"It was just like what had happened to the old man. And considering what happened when he tried to… attack me. I could make a pretty good guess as to what happened to them."

Frisk, at a loss, laid their head against his shoulder. When he didn't shake them off, they took it as a mostly good sign. "Did you try to investigate more after that?"

They felt him shake his head. "No. I'd already… well, seen enough of what became of the doc. I didn't need any more of that." He sighed. "Papyrus, on the other hand… I made the mistake of telling him about it after he asked about one of the scientists. When'd known this guy since we were small. Nice enough to let us pester him while he worked or share some candy if he had any. I forget why Papyrus asked about him, but I felt like I owed him the truth.

"He didn't believe me that it was Gaster who did it. He never really accepted that it was really him who attacked me. Pap kept trying to insist that it had to be someone trying to pretend to be the doc. He swore he'd discover the truth about it.

"And then one day, he went to work at his usual time. But he didn't get home on time. Before I could… um. Notice," he lied—they could guess he'd been worried half sick. "He showed up at the house, looking exhausted. Like someone had run him halfway to hell.

"He never told me what happened, but after that, he never tried to say that it wasn't Gaster anymore. And he also got really hell bent on getting us out of Snowdin."

For a long time, neither of them spoke; what was there to say to all that, after all? Finally, he tapped his glass. "I need a refill."

"I think," they began, standing up, "that it's time for bed."

He snorted, but there was little mirth to it. "Are you going to tuck me in too?"

"If you want."

He fell silent, but his voice was soft when he spoke next. "Will you come to bed too?"

They nodded; honestly, they felt exhausted after the tale. They would probably have nightmares now as their own memories scratched at the back of their mind. But still, they didn't want to be sitting down here alone anymore. "Let's go."

Sans let them tug him up from his chair and then up to bed. He smacked their hands away when they jokingly tried to actually tuck him in bed, but he did roll over to look at them as they settled in on their side. Perhaps the telling had exhausted him as well as he quickly fell back asleep.

Closing their eyes, they tried to put it out of their thoughts. That night, they dreamt that a gray door appeared every which way they went. No matter how far they ran, the door would constantly appear.

On the other side of the door, a voice called out to them.

(DON'T YOU WANT TO BE USEFUL TOO?)

---

A/N: I am SO sorry this was so late. This chapter ran so long, even after I started cutting stuff out. While I'd like to do more stuff with Gaster and his past, that will have to be saved for a future chapter. Just a reminder, requests are still closed for now. I'll let you guys know when I'll open them again.

There was probably something else I wanted to say here, but I'm so damn tired, I can't remember. If I do, I'll edit this part later.