(a/n: Just a little reminder than this universe has never experienced a genocide/kill-all run, only one pacifist run. Also, content warning for a panic attack)

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Chapter 37

Sans dropped his arm and stepped back slightly, his eyes skimming the edges of the room in apparent boredom.

Frisk walked over to Asgore and tugged on his cloak, "I wanna ask..."

"Yes?" Asgore said with a gentle rumble.

Chara licked their lips nervously, "Could... could we see the human souls?"

Asgore slowly rose to his feet, towering over them in his plate armor accented with gold and purple. He loomed, the light framed him and cast his face in shadow and Frisk felt a chill go down their spine.

They stared transfixed like a deer in headlights as the past rose up in their mind. When that gentle face had turned away and summoned a trident of malice with the intent to kill and gave them no choice but to strike him. The voice in their head, sometimes kind, sometimes teasing, sometimes kind, had been silent and the dread in their gut seemed double. Their hand twitched as they remember the way the knife felt in their hand as they struck him, the pressure of it cutting into him, through him. Their eyes burned with the same tears, desperately wishing it wasn't happening and making the world blur. He had wanted them to kill him! He had wanted-

Their hands clutched the locket and squeezed.

Hands, one large and warm, the other thin and firm, and a voice telling them to breathe.

They breathed. They breathed, ragged and too fast, their chest moving like a bellows and hurting. Tears and snot dripped down their face but they cried silently except for their frantic gasps. They focused on their breathing, on each in and out, closing their eyes until things started to calm and their heart slowed to an almost normal rate. They could hear the birds singing, sounding so carefree while very inch of their body trembled.

Asgore and Sans were standing on either side of them, concern etched on their faces. Asgore's hand covered their small back. Sans' hand squeezed their shoulder as they looked at him. They forced their hand to uncurl from the locket.

"hey, kid." Sans smiled, "calmin' down?"

They nodded.

Asgore's hand made little circular motions on their back. He would open his mouth to speak, then close it again. Finally he managed, "Perhaps we ought to retire to the house." He nodded to himself, "Yes. A cup of tea would be just the thing. A nice cup of tea."

Frisk wiped their face on their sleeve and grimaced. They felt exhausted and gross but they smiled. "that would be nice," they said in a small voice. "You could start it and Sans will help me inside?"

Asgore spread his hands, unsaid was that he could easily carry them, but Sans picked up on their hint and pushed, "i got it covered boss. maybe you have one of those fancy soothing teas?"

"...Ah, yes." He stood slowly, forced a cheerful smile, "Lavender and chamomile, perhaps. I think I have some. I shall just, just go and" He walked out of the room glancing at them, hurt and anxious.

As Asgore's cape disappeared beyond the doorframe Sans glanced at them them and raised his brows questioningly.

"I'm gonna redo it." Frisk sniffed, "I just need..."

"some time to catch your breath?" Sans said, "somethin really shook you up there."

They nodded and let out a long breath but didn't answer the unsaid question. Frisk stood up and finished drying their face, taking a few more deep breaths, "Ok. I'm gonna do it now."

"alright." Sans stepped back like they might explode and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Frisk closed their eyes and picked out their save point just across a few steps away and summoned up a surge of determination to pull them back.

-Sans dropped his arm from around their shoulders and stepped back slightly, his eyes started to skim the edges of the room but stopped and he looked back at Frisk.

"Can we see the souls, Pop-pop?" Frisk asked, keeping their eyes locked on the floor just in front of where Asgore knelt.

He stood up, the shadow casting down over them, they looked farther down at the toes of their own shoes, scuffed and dirty.

"The souls." Asgore said flatly.

Frisk waited. There was a soft scraping noise as Sans shifted his feet.

"I cannot in good conscience," He hesitated. "They are for the good of monsterkind, held in trust."

Frisk rubbed their eye wearily, the headache and its persistent dull ache was becoming overwhelming. They suddenly wished they had waited a day and rested. Wished they were back home, curled up on the couch next to Pap with a heavy blanket and a cup of hot cocoa. Wished they could sleep.

Chara took over. "Please, Mister? I..." Chara paused as their mind scrambled for a reason that he might believe, coming up with only the worst. They gritted their teeth and said it anyway, "It's my fault they were killed. I want to see, with my own eyes, what I've done."

Asgore shuddered, "It was not you, Chara," his voice was laced with sorrow, "I was the one that struck them down. I was the one who choose the path."

"It's my fault you had to make that choice," Chara said grimly, clenching their jaw to stem any stupid tears.

"a quick look wouldn't hurt nothin' right?" Sans added in from behind them.

Asgore stared at the stone floor unseeing, "It is not right. I do not wish for you to suffer any more."

Chara stared at him defiantly, curling their hands into fists. "Please."

"Will you not reconsider?"

Chara shook their head. Their voice wavered, "Dad. Please."

He said nothing more, simply nodding and walking back to where Sans stood, a gentle hand guiding them back with him. He held out his hand and the ominous red trident materialized within it. The butt of the spear hit the stone like a bell and the ringing noise carried with it a wave of magic that triggered mechanisms deep below. Seven circles of stone turned, sank slightly, and were retracted under the floor, revealing seven shining disks of silver. The soul containers rose, their souls slowly exposed and casting a faint rainbow colored light across the room. They clicked loudly as they reached the top and the whir of machinery fell to a whisper and then died away.

Frisk walked over to them and knelt down in front of the little hearts. Their colors were dimmer than Frisk's own and they bobbed peacefully. Frisk knew in the battle with Flowey, they eventually helped them, healed them and then abandoned Flowey but before that, perhaps they had been asleep? Frisk pressed their hand to the smooth glass, they hoped it was sleep, or something like it, and that the souls were at peace.

There was a strange pulling darkness and silence as Sans appeared beside them, his hand brushed their arm, "brace yourself," he warned.

Frisk turned to him as the wave of magic flooded over them and the world froze. They sucked in a breath and squeezed their eyes shut as their head throbbed.

"sorry 'bout that." Sans said, walking along the line the containers with a detached air, "i thought i'd better put a stop to this." he pointed with the toe of his slipper to a long, thin vine that had been slinking along behind the soul containers. "flowey, i presume."

Chara nodded. They followed behind Sans, "What should-"

A line of thirty blue bones coursed up out of the ground inside the vine, so tightly spaced they almost touched, "shall we have him join us?" Sans asked as his face set in concentration.

Around them, Frisk felt Sans' magic shift as he altered it to allow one more inside the stopped time stream. There was a horrible tearing sound and a snarl of pain.

"now, now," Sans tutted. "i wouldn't move, if i were you."

Flowey emerged just slightly from the shadows of the cave wall. His vines and roots spread out and up the rough stone like an infection, all originating from one large crack in the back, near the doorway that they had come in from.

"Even the smiley trashbag is on your side now?" He growled, glaring at Sans.

Sans' regular old smile grew as he looked at Flowey. He rocked back on his heels and blew a faint whistle through his teeth, "that expression.," he said happily, "that's the expression of someone whose died at least ten times. give or take. there's a nuance to this stuff and i'm a bit too far removed to be too accurate."

Flowey's face twisted into a demonic snarl.

"nice to know i made you suffer," Sans' chuckled. "at least a little, for all the shit you did. it's only too bad i can't remember any of it."

Flowey reared up on his vines, "You-!" the thrones growing larger, and sharper. Magic began to coalesce in the air into the shape of bullets.

Frisk gasped and startled backwards as something huge and white appeared in the air above their heads. A massive skull, beast-like, with glowing blue eyes and a great, gaping mouth stared down at Flowey, magic frothing and churning in the back of its throat, a white hot promise of death.

"don't. tempt. me. weed," Sans said acidly.

Frisk stared at Sans, his eye, the one he always winked at them, burned with blue and yellow magic. They unconsciously leaned away from him, their back pressing into one of the soul containers.

"the kiddos want to keep you alive," Sans said, "now, i'm not quite as good at control as my brother is, but i'm pretty sure i can bring you right to the brink of death," he grinned nastily, "and leave you there."

The bullets disappeared and Flowey shrank his thorns until they disappeared back into his stem. His face sulked bitterly, his petals flattening like a cat putting back its ears.

"now," Sans said quietly, sweat beading on his forehead, "i always thought the anomaly was fucking around because it was unhappy and when it got what it wanted it would stop." He chuckled humorlessly, "course, i had no idea the anomaly had no soul and that nothing would make it happy."

"I don't know about that." Flowey said, "Seeing you die always cheered me right up."

Sans smiled. The strange skull opened its mouth a little wider. Flowey sank closer to the the floor. The room was sharp with the smell of magic.

"now, these kids want to give you a soul. one of these souls, in fact," he gestured to the soul containers, "you just have to wait and be patient like a good little abomination. alright?"

Flowey looked from Frisk to the soul containers. "You're either lying or stupider than I thought you were."

"i don't think it'll work personally," Sans shrugged.

Flowey narrowed his eyes, "Then why are you helping them?"

"if it doesn't work i can still smear you into paste and use it for fertilizer. on the other hand if it does happen to work," He paused to relish the thought, "well, that would be the best outcome, wouldn't it?"

"You're all idiots." Flowey snapped, "Let me go you stupid sack of wind. I can't do anything so I'll play nice. For now." He smiled beatifically, "I promise."

"sure you will."

The blue bones disappeared one by one, sinking into the ground out of sight. Flowey hurriedly pulled his vine back as soon as he was free. His roots sank back through the crack and out of sight, an unsettling leathery sound against the stone. Sans waited until all of Flowey had disappeared back into the crack in the wall before dispelling the huge, terrifying skull back into nothingness.

He sagged with relief, his shoulders slumping as sweat oozed down his skull, "it gone?"

Frisk turned towards the crack, closing their eyes to get a better feel. "...He's in the throne room, moving towards the hallway."

"good enough." Sans grabbed them by the shoulder and steered them to where they had been crouching before. He motioned them down, before hurriedly scuffled back behind Asgore, where he had been standing before.

Frisk knelt in front of the soul container and placed their hand on the glass like they had before. Behind them, they heard Sans take a series of deep breaths then his magic broke. The strange stillness and silence was replaced by birdsong and the constantly changing light from the barrier.

Asgore said faintly, "Did...?"

Frisk looked behind them.

Asgore blinked, scanning them and the soul containers. He shook his head rapidly and rubbed his eyes, "...strange."

Frisk turned back to the souls. They didn't know how they would convince Asgore to let them have a soul without telling him why. He had barely let them see them.

Asgore shifted uncomfortably, "I think that's enough for today. Please step back young one."

"...but-"

"Step back," Asgore said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Frisk stepped back sulkily, opening their mouth to protest, even as Asgore brought his spear down to put the souls away once more.

We'll just have to try again. Chara groaned.

"boss, behind us!" Sans shouted in alarm.

Asgore turned to see what had Sans so alarmed and there was another flood of Sans' magic and time stopped once more.

"last time. i promise," Sans said in apology. Sweat was beading on his skull as he turned to the soul containers that were about to descending back into the floor.

Frisk groaned, their forehead crumpled in pain.

"got your backpack? good." he waved them over impatiently, "i can't keep this up much longer, kid. so let's make this quick."

Frisk paused from pressing their hands to their eyes and focused their mind on Sans magic. They had taken it apart once before, supporting it couldn't be that difficult. And they already had an idea of how to go about it, just like the barrier was supported by monster magic, they felt certain they could just- they closed their eyes and carefully fed determination into Sans' magic, strengthening it and supporting it like the struts on a bridge.

"geez!" Sans' flinched and then froze, his eyes flickering back and forth as he studied something only he could see. His fingers moved and twitched as he calculated. "can you dial it back?" he said absently.

Frisk reduced the amount of determination gradually until Sans nodded and waited.

"how-" he said faintly. He wiped the sweat from his brow and no new sweat beaded up to take it's place, his face was relaxed with the burden of his magic shared across the two of them.

Frisk shrugged. "I just did what felt right."

He grimaced at this description, "i suppose the magic talk can wait until later." He glanced up, as if he were looking at his magic and shook his head. "come here."

Frisk walked over to him where the soul containers waited, all the souls bobbing gently inside.

"green?" Sans mused. He looked up at them, "which one do you think?" he asked.

"Is there a difference?" Frisk asked.

Sans nodded, "the color indicates the souls' focus of power, kind of like a personality trait." He pointed to them, "your's determination." He turned and pointed to each soul in turn, "light blue is patience, dark blue, integrity; orange, bravery; purple, perseverance; yellow, justice; and" he ended on the green soul, "green is defined by kindness."

"And monsters souls are made of love, hope and compassion so kindness would be the best fit," Chara said.

Sans nodded. He stepped over to the green soul container and wrapped his hands around it, giving it a little twist. It uncoupled from the floor with a sharp metallic click. "backpack," he said as he turned slowly towards them, holding the soul container at arms length as if it contained something radioactive, or infectious, or both.

Frisk quickly took off their backpack and set it on the ground, unzipping it and pulling the thermos out, setting it on the ground. Sans set the soul inside the blue canvas and zipped the backpack closed. He looked at the thermos and grinned, "well, looky here." He took the thermos, which was only slightly smaller than the soul container and carried back to the hole, sliding it place where the soul container had been. He put in upside down so the shiny metal bottom of the thermos showed and might fool someone at a quick first glance once the containers were lowered.

Then, Sans helped Frisk put the backpack back on and walked back to where he had been before he froze time. He glanced at Frisk, "ready?"

Frisk nodded and stopped feeding determination into Sans magic, a moment later, Sans released the magic and the world moved. Behind them, the soul containers finished descending into the ground and locked into placed under the stone floor, the stone covers sliding over them and hiding them from view so seamlessly that you couldn't even see the seams. It was no wonder Flowey had never been able to get to them.

"I'm afraid I don't see anything, Sans." Asgore said as he turned back to Frisk.

Sans shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "thought i saw a butterfly."

Asgore narrowed his eyes, "Sans-"

"but it's just us that butter-fly." he winked. "am i right?"

Asgore smiled weakly.

Chara grinned, "It is about time we larva."

Sans leaned forward, "make sure you say goodbye bee-fore we go."

Chara snickered, "buzz off, wise guy."

"you wound me."

"Oh really?" Chara said as they walked over to Asgore. They called over their shoulder, "too much sting for you?"

"come on kid, don't beelitte me." Sans said.

Chara laughed, "Was that suppose to be beetle?"

Sans narrowed his eyes, "Wasp it you?"

"Ant nothin to me, bonehead," Chara said cheekily.

Asgore deftly pulled them into a hug, tears glimmering in his eyes.

"Mister!" Chara squeaked indignantly.

"I'm so happy," he sniffled gruffly, "it is truly you."

"Of course it is." Chara muttered, embarrassed.

Asgore's mouth wobbled as he continued, "And you're alive!"

"Mister."

"And happy!" he was crying again.

Chara sighed and patted Asgore awkwardly.

Sans shuffled up to them and raised a brow, "and the winner is-"

"Me." Chara said smugly, "I did four puns to your three." He opened his mouth to protest and Chara cut him off, "That beetle pun sucked."

"i'm just rusty," he said. "i'll be out punning you in no time."

Chara smirked, "You can try."

Asgore released them from the hug and dried his face with the edge of his cloak.

Frisk fished around in their pocket and pulled out their phone, holding it up to show Asgore. "Do you have a cellphone? So we can call you and stuff?"

"Oh, golly." Asgore said sheepishly, "I'm afraid I don't."

"Hmm." Frisk pursed their lips, "Well, we can give you our number and then you can get Alphee to make you a cell phone later."

Asgore smiled and nodded gracefully. He asked, "If it is not a burden, may I accompany you back to Snowdin?"

Chara looked to Sans who shrugged.

"That would be nice," they said softly.

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(a/n: update next wednesday, the 8th!)