You wake up in your room, staring at the ceiling from the questionable comfort of your worn-down mattress –
– and immediately sense that something's different.
You stay sprawled on your back for a few minutes, phalanges fiddling with one corner of the crumpled bedsheet, trying to figure out what has changed. Nothing seems out of the ordinary - the silence is certainly familiar, though once again, it's not the result of someone's killing spree. You scramble to your feet and step to the window, squinting groggily at the river, the rooftops, the silhouette of the pine trees in the distance. The details are almost identical, but you feel a slight sense of urgency in the air, like time itself was flowing at a different pace, and it dawns on you (heh heh. You just can't ever stop with the jokes, can you?) that it's the second day of the loop already.
As the usual queasiness and disorientation caused by the new reset slowly seep away, the memories start to return, wedging themselves into your mind like shards of ice. You lean on the windowsill, eyelights fading out.
The brat didn't even leave you a whole day to take your leave in peace. They must have used a different save point, pushing time forward by force, sentencing you to living. And if you escape, they'll just do it again. They won't let you get away. No matter what you do, no matter who you kill, they will just reset again.
With a snap of your fingers, you take a shortcut to the hidden grotto. Keeping in mind that you're not on your own this time, you take a quick peek outside to make sure nobody's around yet. The caves of Waterfall are as dim and quiet as ever.
You bury your skull in your hands, pressing your palms hard against the bone, shutting your eyesockets tightly. You take a deep breath.
You scream.
You scream and once you've started, you can't seem to stop. You scream. You scream and curl your phalanges around your temples, trying to scrape out every remaining shred of thought and feeling. You scream and kick at the cave walls, harder and harder and harder until dust starts to seep through the fabric of your socks. You scream until your throat hurts, until your ribcage feels like it's about to collapse in on itself. The echo flowers tremble and sway at the force of the sound, hurling it back and forth, up and down, amplifying it thousandfold, drowning you in a demented cacophony of your own voice. You scream and slam your fists into the stone, bruising and cracking your knuckles, chipping away at the bone, and you feel nothing, nothing at all but the overwhelming need to crush and wreck and destroy and turn it all to dust, and in the next moment, blinding white rays are slamming into the rocky surface, sending shrapnels of stone flying everywhere, blasting, burning, crashing, attacking with full force, and still too weak, so laughably, pathetically weak, still unable to break you out of this godforsaken prison of eternal return, and yet you can't stop, you can't ever stop, if you're lucky maybe you can make the entire mountain collapse on you, burying you all alive and –
Your rampage is cut short by a sudden coughing fit that makes you double up with pain. You stumble and press a hand against the wall for support, hacking and wheezing, trying to catch your breath. Your body is shaking from the exertion, your legs threatening to give up on you, your skull ringing with the last of the echoes and your labored breathing. The red mist that made you blind and deaf just a minute ago gradually dissipates, and sharp waves of pain come crashing down in its place, a sobering reminder that you don't have those extra levels anymore. You're even more of a pitiful weakling than you used to be.
Exhausted and hurting, you slouch to the ground, resting your forehead in the dirt, your throat sore, your limbs heavy as lead. After all those times you defeated the human, the all-too familiar feeling of helplessness and hopelessness comes back with renewed strength. You're in their hands. You can't win. You can't fight back. You can't get out. You can't even die. It's pointless. Everything is pointless.
Your clench your fist and tear out a thin tuft of luminescent underground grass, grinding it into a stringy pulp between your phalanges, groaning faintly like a sick animal.
You have hit rock bottom.
You're lying in a stupor, silence settling over you like a heavy blanket. The echoes of your screams have already faded away, leaving only the soft rush of water behind. Time passes.
Well.
You should probably do something.
You haul yourself up on the charred remains of the bench, pulling off your slipper and sock to take a look at your left foot. You definitely broke something there, as making an attempt to move your toes results in a sharp hiss of pain. In hindsight, throwing a tantrum wasn't your best idea ever. One more move and everything could have been reset yet another damn time because peace and love and pacifism and let's save poor old murderous Sans even if it takes fifty zillion tries.
You put your sock back on and try to gather your thoughts a little. Not that there's many of them by this point. The kid is about to arrive soon, and they likely want to have a word with you. Sure, why not. If attempting to slowly and painfully kill your own brother in front of their eyes wasn't enough to convince them to give up on you, then nothing is. You might as well stop pretending you have any say in this. You know when you're beaten.
As you get up to leave, you think you catch a flash of yellow from the corner of one eyesocket, but by the time you turn your gaze, there's nothing there.
The woods are silent, like usual. The weather is gloomy, like usual. You're slouching against a tree-trunk, shoulders hunched, hands buried in your pockets, waiting for them to appear. Waiting like you always do. Waiting like the good obedient monster you are. You're shifting your weight from one foot to another, your left ankle throbbing unpleasantly. Your hands aren't in a much better shape either. It's probably nothing a hearty meal and a long rest couldn't fix, but you vastly prefer hunger and pain to seeing other people right now. Or ever. You're staring blankly into space, your mind empty, your senses so numb that the rapidly approaching bootsteps don't even register with you until you hear his voice.
"SANS!"
Oh. Yeah. You knew you've forgotten about something.
Your latest victim. Or almost-victim, whatever.
You keep on staring ahead, not moving, not bothering to look up. There's no point.
"hey."
"I FINALLY FOUND YOU, BROTHER!" Papyrus stops to catch his breath, bending over to rest his hands on his kneecaps. "WHAT UNDER THE EARTH WERE YOU DOING OUT OF THE HOUSE AT THIS HOUR? DID YOU ULTIMATELY REALIZE THE BENEFITS OF EARLY MORNING EXERCISE?"
A thought occurs to you. Instead of giving an answer, you lift your head so you can see your brother's face. He's looking at you expectantly, clearly relieved that you're still alive and whole. Your eyelights meet his gaze briefly as you're searching for something, you can't even imagine what. Whatever it is, you don't find it. You slump back, your soul as empty as it was before. It feels safe, even comforting.
"SANS?" Here we go again. "ARE YOU… ARE YOU FEELING WELL?"
You should lie to him like always. You should spare his feelings.
"no."
"SANS! WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO EARLIER? I ASKED YOU RIGHT AWAY LAST EVENING WHEN YOU DIDN'T WANT TO WATCH THE MTT SHOW WITH ME!"
"didn't want you to worry."
"WELL, I'M WORRIED ANYWAY! ESPECIALLY SINCE WE'VE BEEN TALKING FOR SEVERAL SECONDS NOW, AND YOU HAVEN'T SAID A SINGLE PUN YET!"
"we can easily help that," you shrug listlessly. "wanna hear a knock-knock joke?"
"CERTAINLY NOT! AND DON'T TRY TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT, SANS. YOU MUST BE DEEPLY UPSET ABOUT SOMETHING. YOU'VE BEEN THIS WAY SINCE YOU WOKE UP YESTERDAY MORNING."
"guess i have." Have you? It's been so long, you don't even know anymore if it hasn't been just a bad dream. If it's not all just a bad, neverending dream. "dunno."
Papyrus must be worried sick about seeing your like this, but you can't find it in you to care. If anything, it makes you want to shut him out even more. You stand still, your eyelights stubbornly fixed on a random spot in front of you. Maybe if you're lucky, he'll just give up and leave to recalibrate his puzzles for the day.
Please just go.
Your breath catches in your throat as you suddenly find yourself in his tight embrace. Hit with all his feelings toward you, your body goes rigid with shock, lost in a torrent of worry, love, hope, despair, trying to reach you, to keep you safe and sound by sheer force of will. It's far, far too much to handle, and your soul instinctively retreats into the deepest recesses of your ribcage, trying to get away from it all. You want nothing more than to be let go, but right now you can barely muster the energy to stand up straight. You might as well humor him for a little while. Slowly, carefully, you allow yourself to lean into him, your skull flush against his chest.
It's not that bad. Almost bearable. You can feel his soul pulsing softly right next to you: warm, tender, full of love.
Full of EXP.
It all comes flooding back. The grief, the horror, the pain. The hunger. Your own soul springs to life, trying to get close to him, trying to connect with his emotions, and you push yourself away in a panic, struggling to break free. Scared by your erratic behavior, Papyrus cries out and grabs your hoodie, tugging at the fabric to keep you close. You twist your spine and tear yourself loose from his hands, stumbling backwards, raising your hands up to keep him away, to keep it all out.
"SANS! SANS, WHAT'S WRONG?"
"Stay back."
Why am I still feeling this?
"ARE YOU IN PAIN? DID I HURT YOU?"
Why am I still able to feel anything?
"PLEASE TELL ME, BROTHER! JUST LET ME HELP YOU! PLEASE!"
You're trembling. No matter how hard you're trying to contain it, your entire body is shaking. You wish he'd go away forever. You wish he'd just disappear from your life so you can finally stop lying and pretending, so you can let it all go. You rub your temples and take a few deep breaths to collect yourself. It's clear that he's not safe with you. As long as you're around, he's in danger. They all are.
Papyrus calls your name again softly and reaches out with a tentative hand. Your body jerks back involuntarily, and you swiftly put some distance between you, avoiding his gaze, fighting the urge to just pull your hood up and hide your face.
"SANS…"
He sounds dejected, but he doesn't come any closer. Good. You can do this. You must do this.
"papyrus," you manage to croak out, your voice breaking upon uttering his name. "can i ask you to do something? it's… it's important."
"ANYTHING, BROTHER. ASK AWAY!"
Your resolve nearly crumbles upon hearing the hope in his voice. He's so glad that he can finally make you feel better in some way. He's so eager to make things right.
You look your brother in the eyesockets, fully aware that you're going to break his heart once again.
"please leave me alone."
A moment of silence.
"OH." He frowns, not quite understanding the implications of your request. "OKAY, THEN. I DO HAVE SOME TRAPS I MUST BE WORKING ON ANYWAY. THEN WHEN I'M FINISHED, I'LL PICK YOU UP AND –"
"no," you shake your head firmly. "i mean i want you to leave me alone for a long while. i don't know for how long yet."
Papyrus' face falls.
"WH… WHAT?"
"it's alright, papyrus. i'm gonna be alright. i just want some time to think."
"BUT… CAN'T – CAN'T I THINK WITH YOU?"
"no." You close your eyesockets for a moment, focusing on keeping your composure. It won't do to let him see how much of a mess you are inside. "it's not something you can help with. besides, you should concentrate on your training now." You force a wink, accompanied by the shadow of a smile. "the royal guard's still missing a cool skeleton member."
"I – I KNOW, BUT THIS IS… YOU ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN THAT… AND… AND I HAVE THIS FOREBODING FEELING THAT I MUST PROTECT YOU FROM SOMETHING... PLEASE..."
I must protect you from myself.
"you asked me how you can help," you remind him gently. "this is how."
Your tone is calm, earnest, without any hint of emotion, and his eyesockets widen in fear when he realizes that he's about to lose you.
He doesn't know that you're already lost to him.
"SANS… BROTHER..."
"please go," you whisper, meeting his eyes with your last drop of willpower. "please."
You're staring at each other in silence, seconds passing by, neither of you making a move. Papyrus' gaze is searching your face, perhaps to find the same thing you were looking for, and you can pinpoint the exact moment when it finally sinks in with him that something is very wrong. So wrong that he can't possibly make it right. His ever-present smile falters, giving way to wariness. When he at last breaks the silence, you can barely recognize his voice.
"Alright, Sans. I'll go."
"thank you."
His hand moves a little toward your shoulder before he stops himself.
"...Please take care of yourself."
"i will."
Papyrus turns away from you, hands clutching at his scarf. You can't even imagine how he must feel right now, his movements weak, uncertain, like he has to force his limbs to move against his will. But he still obeys. He still obeys because you asked him to do it, and he trusts your judgment. You're looking after him as he limps along the snowy track, his head bowed as if he was struggling against a strong wind to get ahead. There's not a trace of his usual energy in his step, his scarf hanging listlessly from his shoulders. For a moment, you feel the overwhelming desire to call out after him, but you restrain yourself. Right before he'd disappear at the turn of the path, he stops abruptly, lifting his head. He makes a small, jerky motion with one foot.
You hold your breath.
Then he carries on, not looking back.
The moment he's gone from your sight, you let the air out and rub your forehead. Knowing that you'll never be close to him ever again fills you with an odd sense of finality, even some kind of faint relief. In the end, this is most likely the best possible choice you could have made.
He deserves to be free.
Well. Time to pick up where you left.
"you can come out now."
Frisk sticks their head out from behind the conveniently-shaped lamp they sneaked behind a few minutes ago, unnoticed by your brother.
"so," you turn to them. "any particular reason you're still here?"
"You know why I'm here, Sans," they say gravely, stepping a little closer.
"my bad. what i meant to ask was if there's any good reason you're still here."
"I wanted to talk to you."
"looks like it's your lucky day then, pal. i'm listening. it's not that i have much of a choice anyway, is it?"
Frisk flinches slightly at your tone, but carries on nevertheless.
"I… I'm not saying that I know how you're feeling, Sans. I'd be lying if I said that. And I'm not asking you to be my friend or anything. I know I can't ask for it. But I am asking for you to try and – and think of your friends. Please." Their fist clenches around the stick they are carrying. "If you don't want to see me ever again, it's fine. I won't bother you anymore. But this is not about me. It's not about me at all. It's about them."
Just hearing this again exhausts you beyond measure. The more Frisk talks, the more they grind you down, until you're feeling more tired than ever. They don't get it. They still don't get it.
"i concur, kid. it is about them. and they are better off without me."
"No, they're not," Frisk looks at you with a serious expression. "They need you. They need their friend."
"they sure as hell don't need a 'friend' who murdered them several times."
"You have no idea how scared and remorseful Papyrus was when he found out you disappeared, Sans. He didn't even try to capture me! He didn't care at all, he just wanted you to come home!" Their voice quivers for a moment. "And when - when Dogaressa finally found your hoodie in the woods… she was devastated. She couldn't believe it. Nobody wanted to believe it. Grillby closed the bar. Wells closed up his cart. The entire town was in mourning, Sans."
They will get over it.
"If only you knew how much they love you..."
Too bad I'm unable to love them back anymore.
"of course they think they love me, kid. of course they'd want me back as long as they don't know the truth."
Frisk bites their lip, frowning in thought.
"M-maybe you can –"
"tell them?" The idea seems so absurd, it makes you snort in disbelief. "sure, that would make everything better. 'hey, asgore, remember the time i killed you? and that other time? and the other twenty times? good, just wanted to say i'm sorry for that. no hard feelings, right?'"
Frisk doesn't seem to have anything to say to that, resorting to just clutching their elbow with one hand.
"thing is, i already did it, buddy." Your mouth curls into a lopsided grin upon seeing their shocked expression. "yep. blurted it all out after having a few too many. and guess what? they were all scared to death. the would've fled if they hadn't been so afraid that i might, y'know, massacre them. so, uh, nope. that road is closed." Your pupils vanish into the darkness of your eyesockets, your voice hardening. "unless you really think they need to hear the uplifting story of the human child who slaughtered them all after promising to be their friend."
Frisk cringes at the acrid remark as if bitten by a snake. They lower their head and say nothing.
"thought so," you carry on after a moment. "not that it's any of my business, of course. if you want to spend the rest of your life lying to everyone, be my guest. as for me, i had more than enough of it. i need a rest. without an extra 'e', if you catch my drift."
"Sans… please." They are begging you now. Lovely. "You gave me a second chance. You should give yourself one, too."
„look, kid – determination is all well and good, but honestly? past a point, it's just banging your head against a brick wall. you should know when to pack it in. and as i see it, today is the perfect day to do so. there are people who can't be saved, no matter how hard you try. so – y'know. just stop."
"I know what you've been through, Sans. I know everything you did. I was there. And I –"
"then why are you still doing this?" you snap at them in frustration. "if you know all the unbelievably fucked up shit i did then why the hell are you still here, trying to keep me alive? why don't you just let me die? why?!"
"Because you're my friend!" they cry out loud. For a second, you're so taken aback that you can't even think of a comeback, allowing Frisk enough time to go on. "I know you want nothing to do with me! I know you can't forgive me! I know – I know you hate me! But I still care about you, Sans! And you can't force me to give up on you! You can't!"
They stop, trembling and short of breath, shaken by their own words. Their brown bangs fall over their eyes, casting a shadow over their round face. They look so small, so helpless. You sigh softly to yourself.
"i don't hate you."
Frisk looks up at you in disbelief, tears already welled up in their narrow eyes.
"but i wish i never met you, kid."
Your gaze is infinitely sad, and your words are heavy with sorrow.
"i wish you never came here."
You turn your head, not wanting to see their face as you deal the last blow.
"and i will never forgive you."
A few seconds of silence follows, neither of you looking at the other.
"...I know," Frisk whispers at last. "It's all my fault. I know I can't ask for your forgiveness." They swallow, hard, and for a fleeting moment, you can see the weariness in their posture. "And that's… that's not why I came back."
They take a glance at the stick in their hand.
"Monsters are so different than I imagined at first. When I fell down… I was terrified of them. After I... after I left the Ruins, I was so afraid I couldn't think straight. I just wished I could get out as soon possible." Their voice trails off for a moment, heavy with shame and self-blame. "I saw you as threats. I saw you only as obstacles to overcome. As numbers and statistics and – and execution points. But I was wrong. I know that now. And... you know it, too. You know monsters much better than me. You know how kind and caring and - and gentle they can be." They take a deep breath. "And that includes you, Sans. You too are kind, and caring, and gentle, and... you are so much more than just a strong enemy to defeat." Their voice is pleading. "You are so much more than that."
You look into their eyes, calm and composed, feeling almost like a father talking to his child about difficult grown-up subjects that they should be too young to be exposed to.
"not anymore, frisk."
They look back at you, hoping beyond all hope that this is still something they can fix.
"...You really think so?"
You nod.
"yes."
Frisk lowers their head once again. You're standing still, waiting patiently for them to process what you said. They're just a child, after all.
"Are you so afraid that you will kill again?" they finally ask in a soft voice.
'Kill again', huh? You almost crack a smile at how simple that sounds, coming from them. Well, it is simple, in a way. The simplest of all.
"afraid? no, buddy. i know it. i know i will kill again."
You half expect them to say something encouraging and uncomfortably true and entirely too wise for a child of their age.
You sure as hell don't expect to hear another voice instead.
"Look, if I can restrain myself from turning everyone in this place to dust, then so can you."
Deep red eyes half-hidden under brown bangs, rosy cheeks and a smile that turns your soul into ice and flame. Your body immediately snaps into fight mode (no flight this time, oh no, not now, not ever), cyan magic springing into your left eye, your hand ready to send them once again where they belong –
"No! Sans, no!"
You freeze.
"Ahahahaha!"
...Frisk?
You shake your head and blink, confused for a moment about what's real and what's the product of your tormented imagination. Frisk is still here, deeply distressed, one small hand tugging at the sleeve of their sweater. And next to them, doubled over with laughter, the ghostly form of another human child is staggering, their body translucent against the backdrop of the trees, a familiar red soul glowing in their chest. They're clearly amused by the sight of you panicking, their eyes twinkling with mirth as they look you straight in the eyesockets.
"Greetings," they say with a sweet smile. "Long time no see, isn't it?"
They came back.
Kill them.
Kill them while you can.
"I thought I would pay you a visit since you two are clearly too incompetent to handle this yourselves," the child goes on breezily. "I must say, I didn't expect such a mediocre comedian to be talented at melodrama."
When you find your voice again, it's flat, cold.
"what the hell, kid."
"I'm - I'm sorry!" Frisk stutters. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean this to happen!" They turn to their companion, who's eyeing the two of you with an amused expression. "Chara, why did you do this?"
"I thought it would be funny," they reply, shrugging their shoulders, looking at you from the corner of their eye. You narrow your sockets. "And it was!"
"You scared Sans!"
"That was my intention."
Frisk is probably the closest you've ever seen them to losing their patience.
"I asked you not to come out in front of others! Especially not Sans!"
"And I asked you not to pick your nose," Chara retorts, rolling their eyes. You can't help but snort when you see Frisk wince, their face turning red as a tomato.
"I don't! I – I mean, yes, but it's not like – I just – um –"
You let out a sigh. "calm down, kiddo, i won't tell a soul. just, uh, make sure you wash your hands afterward."
"'m sorry," they mumble.
"hey, no problem. it's just a gross habit. 'snot like you committed mass murder," you add, flashing a toothy grin at Chara.
They raise an eyebrow, their smirk familiar and irritating. "I doubt that you're in a position to judge me, Sans."
Your grin widens menacingly.
"a pot-on observation, pal, though i'd say you're still just all hat and no kettle."
"Do you really think you can chase me away with your lame puns? Please. Nobody laughs at them but you. You don't count!" they add when Frisk raises a hand in protest.
"hey, there'snow need to be grumpy. after all, it was you who decided to go on a diet."
"I thought we might as well take a different approach this time."
"you mean after i mopped the floor with you? good to hear my friendly advice didn't fall on death ears."
Frisk lets out a giggle at that.
"Ugh." Chara folds their arms, looking at you with distaste. "One more joke and I'm going to tell Papyrus on you."
"you needn't brother, pal, he can already recite all of all of my bad habits by heart."
"Oh, I didn't mean the puns, Sans. I meant your little LV addiction that he still has no idea about." They lean closer, searching your face for signs of discomfort. "Given that you were too much of a spineless coward to come clean with him."
Your grin wavers for a split second before you catch yourself. Chara immediately notices, their smile becoming as sharp as a knife.
"Hmm. Maybe I should tell him when I have the chance," they muse out loud. "It would certainly be interesting to see his naive little soul crumble upon realizing that his brother is the biggest monster the Underground has ever seen. Don't you agree?"
"Chara, stop," Frisk says sternly. "This isn't what we came back for, remember?"
"Wrong. You might have come back to repent for whatever sins you think you committed. But as for me, I'm interested in new ways we can shape this world. And good old Sans here has always been such a great partner in that." Chara turns back to you with a sly expression. "I bet he still is."
The memories come flooding back, dark and violent, and you try to keep your cool. You shouldn't let Chara get a rise out of you. This is not something you want to engage in ever again. Your slip your hands in your pockets to hide their tremor, your soul fluttering restlessly in your ribcage, sensing the danger, sensing the challenge as the fallen child steps closer and looks at you with a doe-eyed expression.
"Do you want to fight?"
YES.
"nah," you say airily, your grin as relaxed as ever. "i'd rather frisk didn't reset another billion times."
"Come now," they chuckle. "Do you really think I'm that out of practice?"
"you were never in practice, buddy."
"Are you sure? This fresh run has made me very good at avoiding attacks. I even learned some new moves! Don't you want to see them?"
"nope. in fact, i'd rather poke my eyes out with that stick than watch you muddle around. wait. nothing to poke out." You shrug. "guess i'm just struck with bad luck, here."
"What a shame," the child says in a sing-song voice as they walk away, their feet leaving no impact in the snow. "It would have been a novel experience for both of us." They turn back to give you a knowing smile. "Also – you're a surprisingly poor liar, given your expertise in the field."
You hate how they can practically read your thoughts by now.
You absolutely love it.
They are your greatest enemy. The only one who's worthy of you.
The only one you really, truly want to play with.
The others? Good for some EXP, sure, good for giving you the satisfaction of finally reaching a new LV, increasing your magic, making you stronger. That's always nice. But this? This wins by a long shot. And they are right. It would be interesting to see how everything has changed now that both of you are back to square one. What it would feel like to –
You stop yourself before going down this lane again. You're not here to play games anymore. It would just delay the end you're longing for.
"Okay." Frisk steps between you, their voice strained with forced calmness. "Now that we all agreed that we're not going to fight –"
Chara whirls around when they hear the blasters fire. Faster than the eye can follow, they dart out of the way of the beams, landing on all fours.
Fuck it.
"hey, kid."
They look up, anticipation written all over their face.
"do you wanna have a mad time?"
They laugh then, a sound bright and beautiful and crystal clear, the voice of a child whose LOVE has destroyed you all, and your grin widens until it reaches the edges of your eyesockets.
It is on.
It's your turn first, it is always yours first, that's something that no-one can take away from you unless you give it up willingly for the sake of the game, for the sake of something unknown and exciting. And this is exactly what you're expecting of them, to offer something different, a real challenge, something that's new and familiar at the same time, after all, you've been through this hundreds if not thousands of times – beads of sweat gathering on your brow, the whoosh of projectiles tearing through the air, sharp bones and blue magic, the intoxicating smells and sounds of battle. Chara comes at you with their fists, no knife this time, then again, they didn't have time to swipe the real knife up yet, and that makes you all the more excited since the best is yet to come. Your breath is quickening, your eyelights are burning with a fervor that has nothing to do with warmth, blue and red clashing, grappling, mingling, a cold fire that's devouring your entire soul, and you suddenly realize, with blinding clarity, that this is it. This is what you were waiting for. Finally, you feel like yourself again. Finally, they are back, giving you back your goal, your purpose. The hardest opponent, the last LV. Power. Victory. Completion.
You're saving the thrust of your bone attacks for later. The blasters are deadlier if the kid's caught in their radius, but they're generally easier for them to avoid, and you don't want them to die in the first few rounds because seriously, where's the fun in that? It's not the destination but the journey, or however that one human put it, hell if you remember. You both know each other's every move by now, and yet it's still different every time, unpredictable and incalculable, maybe it's your memories, maybe it's your determination, maybe it's because you're broken beyond all repair by now, you don't care either way, and they crouch down and slide in the snow and flatten themselves to the ground and spring up and jump and leap, avoiding your attacks by a hair's breadth and coming back, always coming back, trying to land a hit on you, and you dodge, you dodge effortlessly, it's almost like a dance, dangerous and deathly and beautiful, and oh god, you missed this, you missed this so much.
This is so much better than battling monsters. None of them can ever come close, not even Undyne; maybe if Papyrus had gathered himself together enough to fight back, he could have posed a challenge. You should probably be disturbed by the ease the thought occurs to you, but you find you're not bothered by it one bit. You killed them, you know it, you're not denying it anymore. You embrace it. You revel in it. There is no hope for you anyway, so you might as well stop pretending you're not a soulless, insane freak. No friends, no brothers, no old ladies behind doors, no loved ones, nothing, nothing, just numbers and battles and levels, just this visceral feeling of pure hatred, this twisted, white-hot joy of violence, the last remaining shred of life pulsing in the dark empty space of your chest.
You briefly wonder if the other humans are this much fun to battle with. If a mere child can put up such a fight, what a mighty challenge a fully grown, experienced adult would be. So much hate. So much sin. Maybe one day you will find out. Maybe one day, another, even stronger human will fall down to the Underground, their soul overflowing with determination, giving them power over all of monsterkind except you, defeating everyone except you. You've always been an exception, weren't you? You've always been the worst of them. The best of them. You almost feel ready to carry on just to see if it could happen. Maybe that Frisk kid was onto something when they insisted on you staying alive.
As if through a thick layer of cotton, you hear them yelling something now, probably trying to make you stop, the stubborn little mule they are. They hurtle themself at you, clinging forcefully to the sleeve of your hoodie in a desperate attempt to hold you back. Without sparing them a glance, you elbow them out of the way, knocking them in the snow, but not before your bone attack goes astray from the distraction.
"Ha!" Chara yells at you triumphantly. "Are you getting tired already? Are you so unused to being first level?"
You grit your teeth and keep attacking. You know you can win. You will win.
"I have never realized you were so boring."
Boring, huh? Time to whip out the big guns, then. With one swift motion, you grab their soul with your blue magic and slam it into a fence of bones, hard.
A cry of pain, coming from somewhere behind you. Surprised and confused, you turn and see Frisk who has fallen on their knees in the snow, hunched over and wheezing harshly, their hands clutching their belly. Their face is contorted by pain, teeth clenched together, tears gathering in their eyes.
The soul.
Wait -
You snap back immediately as you hear Chara leaping through the air towards you, but you're too late. You didn't dodge.
I'm going to die.
Your pupils nearly go out as you recoil, bracing yourself for the death blow –
– and nothing happens.
"Boo!"
Chara's face is hovering mere inches away from yours, but the familiar flash of pain isn't coming. Seeing your shocked expression, the child bursts into a fit of giggles.
"My god, I can't believe you fell for it!" They hold out an incorporeal hand, waving it playfully across your axis, and it glides through the bones harmlessly. You don't even feel a thing. "I gave Frisk their body back, remember? Or were you so immersed in our duel that your mind just wandered straight back to the good old days?" They look proud of themself. "You must have really been getting into it."
I will kill you.
I will kill you, you little piece of shit.
"Of course," Chara continues, idly swiping a lock of hair out of their eyes, "if you truly have a death wish, you can always ask Frisk to do the favor."
"i do have a death wish, kid." Your voice is dangerously calm and low. "yours, to be exact."
"Hmm. Does this mean that you gave up on suicide for now? Or do we have to – how did you put it? – reset another billion times because you can't be bothered to think about anyone else but yourself?"
"i doubt that you're in a position to judge me, buddy."
"Oh, but I don't have to do that. You're doing this all to yourself, don't you see? Attacking me, throwing my words right back at me in the hopes that defeating me will somehow put your soul at ease."
"hey, we can give it another try if you want to. only this time, don't dodge."
"Don't be delusional, Sans. I'm stronger than you and you know it." Your grin twitches. "You know that I'm as determined as you are. You know that if I want to, I can kill everyone in this place and leave you to rot here alone for all eter–"
"Stop it!" Frisk stomps a foot on the ground, splattering snow everywhere. "Both of you!"
You're startled into silence by their sudden burst of anger. Even Chara looks a little taken aback, opting to just make a face and say nothing. Frisk takes a few sharp breaths, rubbing their nose, trying to calm themself.
"Enough of the fighting… please…"
Chara folds their arms and lets out an indignant huff.
"I don't understand what your problem is. You wanted him to stop killing himself, I made him stop killing himself. You have to admit, I'm much better at this than you ever were."
The throbbing pain in your foot returns, making you groan inwardly. You're feeling weak and, to be honest, a touch embarrassed. You let that loathsome little bastard get the better of you, rendering you a pawn in their petty game again. And you did it willingly, this time, enjoying every second of it. Just how low can you sink anyway?
Pretty low, apparently.
Still wincing a little from their wound, Frisk wipes the snow off their pants and turns to their companion.
"Chara, please just… um, could you please just leave us alone for a little bit?"
„And how, exactly, should I do that, pray tell? I'm bound to your body. I can't go that far away that I won't hear you squabbling."
"We'll be quiet. Please?"
"...As you wish. Just try to keep it short."
They take a few steps back on the path and turn their back on you, making fruitless attempts at kicking up the snow. You pull Frisk a little farther away and lower your voice.
"okay, kiddo. time to come clean. what's up with your soul there?"
"Chara let me have my body back, but not my soul," they whisper back. "They asked for it in exchange after the first time they – we killed everyone. They said it was needed to enter into your world again."
An unpleasant, foreboding chill starts to coil in your gut.
"so now you don't have your own soul?" You frown, mentally going through a list of what you know about human souls. "do you have any idea what's going to happen after you finish the run?"
"They promised me to give it back," Frisk says lamely, clearly aware that it doesn't sound convincing at all, and sure enough, you barely resist the urge to bury your face in your palm. Just how damn gullible is this kid?
"I know you don't trust them, Sans. I'm have my doubts, too. But this is my only chance. I must take it."
You close your sockets and rub your forehead. As tired as you are, as much as you don't want it, Chara is still here. They've never been away. You were fooling yourself to think so. No - you've been lying to yourself. You've been too selfish to think this through properly. But the truth is that you cannot die yet. As long as that demon is still lingering here, you can't quit.
You can't ever quit.
You open your eyesockets and see that Frisk's waiting for you to say something. Probably something that they would want to hear.
"alright."
"Sans?"
"i'll do as you asked. at least… for a while. i'm gonna see you through this. just in case, mind you," you add when you see their face light up. "and don't take this as a promise."
"Thank you," Frisk says with a smile, clearly trying to contain their relief. They sure are chipper about finally getting their way, you think bitterly.
"keep your thanks for the end, buddy."
"Are you two quite finished?" Chara demands to know. "I want to meet Papyrus already. As forgettable he is, at least he does something else than stand around feeling sorry for himself all day."
"Yes, you can come back now," Frisk waves at them energetically, beckoning them to come back. "Sans is going to see us to the end."
"Is that so?" Chara looks at you with wide, surprised eyes. "How curious. I wonder if I had something to do with it."
They let you get to the very end, happiness and freedom within your grasp.
"not at all, pal. after all, i promised to keep an eyesocket out for you. one for each of you."
"Then I'm going to make sure to be on my best behavior," the child lowers their head in fake obedience.
And they will snatch it away from you at the last second.
"Good," Frisk nods hastily before you can say anything. "Just don't come out this abruptly again, okay?"
"Very well," Chara agrees cheerfully. "About Papyrus -"
"don't keep him waiting, pal. go ahead and have fun," you interrupt them before they say something they'd regret. Before you'd make them regret it. "without leaving behind a trail of dust, preferably."
"Don't you want to –"
"Chara!" Frisk glares at their companion. "It's time to go."
"As you wish."
They wave you goodbye for now as they set out to meet your brother and his puzzles. You force yourself to stand still, following them with your pupils as their twin figures grow smaller and smaller. Right before they'd disappear at the turn of the road, Chara looks back and shoots you a bright smile, their eyes twinkling.
You should be burning in hell.
Grinding your teeth, you slowly, measuredly reach out for the conveniently-shaped lamp and grab it. Your grip gradually tightens around the bulb, the glass smooth and cold in your palm. You hear a small, almost imperceptible crack, and sharp pricks of pain shoot through you as the glass shards scrape and bruise your phalanges, wedging themselves between the bones. Savoring the pain, your clench your fist, crushing the glass into a fine powder. It looks almost like dust.
We're all going to burn in hell.
"Feeling frustrated, big guy?"
You know that voice well. Way, way better than you'd like to.
Aside from Chara, he's the very last person you want to see right now.
Reluctantly, you lower your gaze to the ground and find yourself face to face with a tiny golden flower.
"Howdy!" he chirps, smiling up at you amiably. "You look like you could use a little... help."