"Frisk!"

If Harry was to be honest, his precious Nibling looked as though someone had dragged them through hell by the ankle...While they were faced down and decided to take the scenic route over a mountain.

Of course, as a proper Older Brother, he could never tell them that, but that didn't mean he couldn't threaten over every little tear in their sweater, every scratch on their precious little face, and every dark bruise that stood out against their sun-kissed skin. What could he say? Worrying was practically the job of every older sibling in existence and he always took his jobs seriously.

Their skin is like ice as he wraps his arms around them and pulls them tightly across them causing the black liquid on their face to smear against his jacket. It'll probably stain forever, but he's too relieved to care.

They're alive. Their form was solid underneath his finger, he could feel cold breath against his neck, and hear the steady breathing of a small heart.

They're here. He's not sure if he wants to laugh or cry as a small face hurries into his neck causing the black liquid- mud, maybe? Oil? In the end, did it really matter what it was?- to drip down the skin of their neck. It feels as cold as ice and for some reason keeps sending off silent alarm bells in his head, but he brushes his discomfort aside.

They're safe. Frisk was safe. He hadn't broken his promise.

"Harry?" Their soft voice whispered as small hands gripped the front of his jacket.

They're safe. He wasn't a failure of an older brother playing pretend with a race of kin slayers.

"Yes, Frisk?" They verbally question instead of inclining their head like they usually would despite the pressure it puts on their throat from a childhood of disuse and constant abuse. The pain doesn't matter though. At least, not right now. Not while Frisk is finally safe within their arms and not the empty shell of a body lying at the bottom of a broken bridge.

"-ck."

Their Nibling's voice is barely a whisper to the point they can barely hear a sound the other made as small shaking hands tighten their grip further onto the front of his jacket.

'LeT tHeM gO,' His shadow seemed to shirt closer as it straightened its form out so it was towering over both himself and his Nibling, "aNd TaKe A StEp BaCk. "

What? Confused danced across his expression as he glanced upwards towards the voice that seemed to have grown deeper with each word spoken.

"I said," their Nibling's steadily rising voice drew their attention back towards the small child in their arms as their grip loosened slightly on the other as their tiny face shifted so it was glaring up at him with black, black eyes, "Give. It. BACK."

'MoVe!'

"Kid!" Sans voice calls from somewhere behind him, but it's distant and far away as pain explodes through his chest.

-120

Emerald eyes blink slowly, numbly as they stared into the dirty, snarling face of their younger sibling before slowly glancing downwards...There's a dark magnolia hilt of a knife sticking out of the front of their chest...A child's pale hand is still attached to the wooden handle...

"Oh." He whispers softly as his mind finally catches up to his situation just in time for the child's hand to twist.

-9999

He's falling straight for the Darkness and right before he hits, Harry could swear he saw a beam of blue light colliding his younger Nibling.


He's falling.

Dark.

Darker

Yet Darker.

The Darkness is everywhere. It surrounds him, embraces him, and all but consumes him as he continues to spiral further down into the endless void of darkness and shadows.

It's discomforting to say the least. He feels as if he's going to die. As if the darkness around him was about to suddenly come to life and tear him into pieces to scatter across all of time and reality.

There's a slight movement in the corner of his eyes which has his flames bursting from the surface of his skin only seconds before His Shadow seems to materialize out of the darkness and catches him mid-fall as its own unique darkness wraps around him. It's strangely comforting - almost like curling up on a too-small couch with an old friend that had a constant need to Hog all the space- considering this was the same being that had pushed him off a bridge not even ten hours ago...

Hehe, an Old Friend, huh? For some reason, the thought doesn't feel wrong and all things considered, He supposes he could consider His Shadow a Friend...

A very creepy friend, Harry permitted himself to think as his shadow's strange face appeared inches above his own, A very creepy friend who didn't understand the concept of personal space.

'We HaVe To TrY aGaIn.'

'I'm dead.' He tries to speak so to point out the rather obvious issue with the other's plan but all that comes out is the sound of crackling firewood. Somehow the other still seems to understand him though as his smile seems to grow.

'DoNt WoRrY, yOu'Ll Get BEtTeR.'

That...that wasn't how Death worked. Dead was dead, it wasn't something one just magically recovered from on nothing but a whim...Then again, did shadows even have a concept of Death? For all he knew, shadows died every time someone turned on a light then got right back up the moment it was off and probably assumed everyone else did so as well...

In that case, was that why his shadow pushed him off the bridge?

He opens his mouth to correct the other's obvious misunderstandings- when humans died they stayed dead and his shadow needed to know that before he got someone killed- but the darkness around them suddenly gives a violent tremble as though experiencing a sudden earthquake.

'ThE rEsEt Is AbOuT tO sTaRt.'

Wha-

'GoOd,' purple orbs which served as the other's eyes glanced downwards at him, 'ItS tImE tO wAkE uP.'

He doesn't even have time to open his mouth to protest before the darkness beneath him gives out and swallows him whole.


"Oh."

One word- one numb whisper- was all Sans the Skeleton needed to hear to know something had gone horribly wrong in the reunion of siblings. He finally catches sight of the Freak's face as the older human's body starts to tumble and is on his feet and rushing toward in a matter of seconds. He knows that voice, he had seen it many times before in The Judgement Hall right before the freak would cut him down to the bone.

"Kid," he calls out in warning, but it's too late -far too late. It was too late the moment the older human, Harry, had stepped within reaching distance- to save the elder who already has a knife buried hilt deep into his chest.

The Freaks unnatural smile seems to grow as those lack voids they call eyes meet his own before that deformed smile grows with twisted glee and they twist the handle.

-9999

A Critical Hit. As he watches the older human hits the ground, emerald eyes staring right at him as they rapidly lose their shine while the crimson stain on the jacket grows to mix with the black ooze from the Freaks eyes.

It's too late, Sans knows that, they're already dead.

Harry was dead the moment he let them go near the Freak pretending to be human, but that's one mistake he knows how to fix. Despite the screaming of panicking monsters around him, somehow The snapping of his fingers seems to rise over the noise. A second later, there's only a scorch mark where the Freak once was.

"Oh, Kid," He whispers softly as he lifts the older human's body off the floor. It's a pointless gesture as he knows the World will soon Reset, but the older human deserved better than to be left with the trash on the floor, "Let's get you home."

He's in the midst of a shortcut when the world fades to black and he suddenly finds himself standing beside his sentry station in Hotland with the older human.

"She needed it more," the familiar words still manage to make his smile widen across his skull as he stared at the other.

How such a caring kid was related to the Freak was beyond him, but he wouldn't be making the same mistakes twice. So this time, when he finally goes through the tooth pulling process of convincing the other to have dinner with him, Sans brings him to the Hottest Place in the Underground instead of the tin can's Hotel.

"Sans," Their voice crackles like a flame as emerald orbs stared directly at the Grillby's sign above their head, "If you wanted me to cook you dinner, you could have just asked."

"Well, Ice didn't want to intrude," He lies as his smile grows, "but if you're inviting me, who am I to say Snow?"

As he watched, Harry's eye begins to twitch as the other gave a 'Why Me' look towards the false sky above their heads, "You two are the worse."

Oh Surface above, he loved seeing that expression on-

Wait...Two?


Deja Vu.

The feeling of having already lived through the present situation be.

It was a feeling Harry was rapidly becoming familiar with as he found himself standing next to Sans Hot-land station with words already spoken falling once more, though also for the first time, from his lips and just like before a large smile stretches across Sans' skull.

He feels sick and even more so as Sans begins the familiar argument that would result in the Skelton taking him out to dinner. Had he been alone, Harry probably would have thrown up as the other managed to charm a nod of agreement from him, but he's not, so he bites down the bile and places on his best smile.

He needs to pretend everything is alright, that this is the first time this conversation has happened, but he's not sure why...It's strangely easy to do. He feels as though he's played this part before and was finally slipping back into his self assigned role on a Broadway theater.

Strangely enough, Sans doesn't seem to have the script though- he's not sure why he finds that strange or why he had automatic assumed Sans had even had a script to begin with- as instead of appearing at the 'Tin Can's Resort' like before, Harry finds himself standing in the snow outside a familiar restaurant.

Grillby's.

The damage from the fire is all but gone by now which would no doubt be due to 'magic' if he bothered to question how it was repaired so swiftly. So, he doesn't bother, instead, he tries to make light of his own self confusion.

"Sans," His crackles like a flame as his gaze stays locked onto the sign hanging above their heads, "If you wanted me to cook you dinner, you could have just asked."

He immediately regrets it when the other smiles a smile that's a bit too wide to be natural and proceeds to tempt him into becoming a Monster Killer due to an overdose of Bad Puns Overdose. His Shadow, never one to miss a chance, immediately jumps aboard the Skelton's Pun Train without a second thought.

"You two are the worse." He informs them while half hoping that creature, which had worn his Nibling's skin to kill him, would pop up out of nowhere with another knife and put him out of his misery.

He's not that lucky and he knows it- There was never a killer child lurking around to Off you when you wanted them- so with a soft sigh, Harry makes his way towards the only place that could currently save him:

The Kitchen.

For as long as he could remember the kitchen had always been his safe haven. It was the one place he could go when things went wrong and either has a complete breakdown or just stress cook his issues away before someone finally tempted him into committing mass murder.

So Harry finds himself rather thankful that Sans doesn't try to follow him inside and instead chooses to sit onto a barstool near the end of the counter. For some strange reason, there's a whoopee cushion half-hidden on the stool next to his, but the teenager doesn't let himself think on the matter as the swinging door decides both their fates behind him.

And what a decision it is as a soft final 'Thump' comes from the door as it stops swinging and he allows himself to shatter like a drop of rain finally hitting the Earth's surface.

He's dead.

He died.

He had been murdered by something wearing his Nibling like a spare set of clothes as it screamed at him to give something back- What though? He hadn't taken anything- and if his theory was correct, this wasn't the first time he had died. Yet somehow he was still here among the living.

He forces himself to swallow down the lump in the back of his throat and wills the blurriness within the corner of his eyes to vanish as he fills his lungs with a deep breath and turns to face his shadow, "I think you owe me an explanation."

It shifts guiltily under his watchful gaze as it slowly edges closer until it's strange hand- hand made of bones despite the holes in the middles- reach around him and pull him tightly against its chest, "I sUpPoSe It WaS a BiT mUcH tO hOpE yOu WoUlDn'T ReMeMbEr."

If he's honest, a part of Harry wishes that he couldn't.

He wishes that he believed his sense of Deja Vu was nothing but a detailed dream, but he had never been one for self-deception. The Truth was painful- both mentally and physically- he would admit to that, but he had to know no matter how much knowing would hurt him in the end.

'VeRy WeLl ThEn,' His Shadow seems to understand this as it doesn't try to change the subject or talk him down from asking but instead sighs as its mendable body practically cocoons him within his embrace,' BuT nOt RiGhT nOw. AfTeR aLl, SaNs iS sTiLl WaItInG fOr YoU. '

Right...Sans.

He had almost forgotten the small, pun-loving skeleton was waiting for him and the promised food on the other side of that door. So while he's not all too happy with that answer, it's one Harry can accept...For now, though sooner or later he was going to want a proper answer from the other about what the hell was going on down here that his life had decided it suddenly wanted to become some sort of video game