Dingy, dirty, dusty air stirred up as a broken tile on the floor of the basement lab burst open. Petals pushed their way through the rough tunnel of dirt. He had been smaller the last time he had come here. Much smaller. Still, that was no excuse for scattering the dirt all over the lab floor. That was just rude.

Flowey shook off the layer of dust and dirt that had collected on his petals and looked around. Yep, still looked completely unused, but that could just be a ruse. He'd just proven it was easy enough to scatter dust motes everywhere. Anyway, if what he suspected was true, then he wouldn't need to come down here anymore. He could just rely on what past him had done. Or was it present him. Future him? Boy, time travel sure was confusing. At least, talking about it was confusing. Actually doing it? Easy as pie.

Flowey felt the familiar anger flow through him at the memory of the last time he had eaten pie. It couldn't be real anger. Of course it wasn't real anger. A soulless being like him couldn't feel anger. That was silly. Still, the memory of that anger fueled him in his quest. A whirlwind of pellets and vines tore apart everything in the room looking for something out of place, something different. He found nothing.

A tiny spark of a soul less than a millimeter across throbbed with fury. It had to be here. It had to be! Flowey overturned the couch. Nothing. He tore out all the drawers. Nothing. He pulled the stupid heap of junk machine out of the wall and looked behind it. Nothing.

Flowey growled and pulled out the bombs he had been painstakingly making for several days. Just because he couldn't find it (whatever it was) didn't mean it wasn't here. Besides, he wanted to see the look on Sans' face when he learned that his secret little room had been blown to smithereens. That would be worth all this effort, even if it wouldn't make the skeleton forget all his RESETs. Flowey was starting to hope it wouldn't make Sans forget. It would be so much fun to play with him.

A maniacal grin split his face as Flowey strategically placed all the bombs in the room's weak spots. Then he set the timer and disappeared down into the ground. He was crawling as fast as he could so he wouldn't get caught in the blast. He was a good 100 meters away when the ground reverberated underneath him. He smiled. This was going to be fun.

Chara sat outside the door to their parents' bedroom. Their head hung low in their hands. Everything hurt now. There wasn't a single joint in their 78 year old body that didn't hurt. The arthritis was really bad, but in the mood they were in right now they felt they deserved it. How could they deserve anything else? They'd poisoned their dad.

It had been an honest mistake. A lot of Mom's recipes had weird flowers in them. Chara didn't know a lot about cooking (or botany), so they didn't know that buttercups were different. It had taken them so long to gather enough for the volume of flowers they thought they needed. Maybe they should have taken the time to think about whether or not they were really safe. How could they have known, though?

That logic didn't stop them from beating themself up for making the mistake. It had just been a simple cake, but it had done so much damage. Mom had called every doctor in the Underground to look at dad. Papyrus had exhausted himself trying to heal him. Azriel had retreated to their bedroom to cry.

Chara wasn't crying. They were still in shock. Well, shock and guilt. It had been their idea to bake the cake, so obviously it was their fault. Stupid, stupid. They should have known it was cups of butter instead of buttercups! Now Dad was dying and it was all their fault.

"Chara?" Mom's voice called out quietly. Chara jumped up and spun to face the door to their parents' bedroom. Mom had poked her head out of the door. Her expression was soft… way too soft for the crime Chara had committed. Why wasn't she angry? "Come inside, Chara. Please. Dad wants to talk to you."

Chara walked into the room like they were walking to their death. Their feet dragged across the hardwood floor and their hands worried at each other. Now they were nervous. What if Dad was mad at them? Yes, he hadn't gotten mad the entire time they'd lived with him, but that didn't mean he wouldn't get mad now. They couldn't handle him being mad at them. Even after all these years, the thought of what an angry adult meant still terrified them.

Asgore was laying on his back in the bed with his head propped up. When he saw them he smiled. Why was he smiling at them? They'd hurt him! "Howdy, little one. I'm sorry I gave you all such a scare. I'll try not to do that again in the future," he sounded apologetic.

Chara's head snapped up to stare at him. Wait. Did he seriously think this was his fault? "No. You… you… no. That's not your fault at all, Dad. Why do you think it's your fault?"

He chuckled. Chara didn't get the joke at all. "Why do you think it's yours? This was just an accident, little one. Anyone could have made the mistake you did, and you didn't make it alone. I don't blame you, and you shouldn't blame yourself, either."

Chara felt themself curling up as he spoke. A part of them knew he was right and knew that there was no reason that they should be this guilty, but another part of them was still that terrified kid that adults had turned on all those years ago. No matter how old Chara got, they never seemed to escape the shadow of what those adults did. They wished, just for five minutes, that they could.

"Chara," Asgore sounded understanding. Why did he have to sound like that? They could handle it if he was sad or disappointed, but they definitely couldn't handle this. "Chara, it's okay to feel a little guilty now and then. If you don't I would be worried for you. But you can't let it take over your life. Does that make sense?"

Chara nodded. They still felt really guilty. They didn't know if it would ever stop. But they could at least pretend to feel better for their Dad, right? "I get it. Can I go now?"

Asgore sighed. "Yes, Chara, you can go. But, please, think about what I said."

Chara bowed and raced back out the door, heading down the hall to hide their face in their bed and cry.