Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story

A/N: Hewwo! This is the revised version of the first chapter. I realized that my writing style has changed over the course of this story and that there were several grammatical errors while reading over it, so here is a much better telling of the story. Thanks for your patience, and I hope that I won't be taking such horrible breaks from now on. :)

PERCY

Percy woke up to his alarm clock beeping. Groaning, he turned over in his bed and, without opening his eyes, slapped at the stupid thing until he found the snooze button.

"Shut up," he mumbled before rolling back onto his side. "It's summer."

He got about ten extra seconds of rest before Sally Jackson-Blofis, Percy's mom, stepped into his room.

"Wake up, sleepyhead!"

Percy moaned, but showed no other sign of hearing her.

Annoyed, Sally said, "I may not be able to get you wet with a glass of cold water, but being the son of Poseidon doesn't come with a heater. I will come back in five minutes, and if you're not awake, SPLOOSH."

Percy wasn't looking, but he was ninety-percent sure she wiggled her fingers to represent rain. He heard the door to his room close and forced himself to sit up. He looked at his room again in the morning light that shone from his window. It was a small space that he had gotten used to since school started; he was going to miss it when he left for camp that morning.

Looking through the window, Percy saw the moonlace that he had planted there after his visit with Calypso. Secretly, he missed her. Not because he like her, but because he knew he could have gone back. He could have helped her.

Stop it, Percy thought. There's no use in dwelling on that now.

The smell of pancakes wafted through the air, making Percy so excited that he nearly forgot to grab Riptide from under his pillow before he ran downstairs. Normally, his sword would return to his pocket if he lost it, but his Star Wars PJ's didn't have any, and Percy didn't want that to keep him from having a weapon at all times.

Practically running through the hall, he bumped into Sally, who held a glass of ice water, ready to dump it on his head.

"Glad to see that you're up," she chuckled. "I figured you would be once you smelled breakfast."

"Thanks, Mom," Percy said as he crossed into the kitchen and sat down at the table, right across from his stepfather, Paul. "G'morning."

"Good morning, Percy. You seem excited." Paul sat with a mug of coffee in his hand and two blue pancakes stacked up - plain - in front of him.

"Yep. I love pancakes."

"It seems so. Usually, you're more like a zombie when you wake up."

As Percy began to pur an ungodly amound of syrup on his plate, Paul picked up a newspaper. The main headline read "MISSING CHILDREN CASE AT MT. EBOTT RISES TO SIX."

"Are you excited to see your girlfriend at camp?"

If anything made him happier than pancakes, it was seeing Annabeth. He grinned a big, goofy smile, then tried to cover it up by cooly saying, "Yeah, sure."

Coming from the stove, Sally brought a plate full of the rest of the pancakes and put them in the middle of the table. "Enjoy, boys."

"Aren't you going to eat with us," Percy asked.

"I wish I could, but I have a novel to finish before August rolls around." She went into her bedroom/office, and Percy grabbed three more pancakes.

SANS

"Sans! Wake up! I am making breakfast!"

Sans, yawning, crawled out of bed. Sleepily, he shuffled out of his room and down the stairs, to the kitchen. He looked to see Papyrus standing over a pot of food that Sans knew was probably spaghetti.

"Sans!" he yelled again. "Hurry up or your pasta might get cold!"

"How are you such a morning person," Sans asked his brother.

Turning around, Papyrus realized that Sans had been there the whole time. "Sorry, Sans. It's easy to be a morning person when you don't go to sleep!"

Sans shivered at the thought of skipping a good nap. He looked at Papyrus' outfit - the same white chestplate and red scarf. He looked like a dork, but if anyone else said so, they would get punched in the skull.

"Okay, Sans," Papyrus directed, "sit down so we can eat the special breakfast that I made."

As Sans sat, Papyrus set a pot of pasta with a white sauce on the table.

"That's... not spaghetti," he noted.

"Nope." Papyrus looked proudly at the food in front of him. "Undyne has been teaching me a new kind of sauce - alfredo." He looked really excited. "Now that I have mastered spaghetti, I can make all kinds of pasta!"

"I guess you could say -"

"Sans, don't you dare finish that sentence -"

" - the PASTAbilities are endless."

"SANS."

"C'mon, Pap. These puns are amazing! You know I've got a PUN of them."

"STOP IT, SANS, I'M TRYING TO EAT BREAKFAST!"

"Alright, alright." Sans piled some pasta onto his plate and took a bite.

"Do you like it?" Papyrus asked, filling up his own plate with sparkles in his eyes.

Forcing a smile, Sans tried not to gag. "It's great, Pap." He took another bite. "Real good."

"I'm glad you like it!" Papyrus shoved a forkful into his mouth. He made a strange face, but swallowed. "Maybe I should make spaghetti for lunch..."

Sans laughed.

After breakfast, Sans and Papyrus made their way to their watching posts. Usually, Sans didn't care much about catching humans, but he figured he should keep an eye out; Frisk hadn't gone on any murderous rampages recently, and he knew he had to protect Papyrus at all costs. He didn't think today would be much different than the others.

However, when Sans got to his post, he found the door to the ruins wide open. That's weird, he thought as he looked out into the labyrinth of purple hallways. Should I go in?

His good eye began to glow, and he kept his hands at the ready, just in case something went wrong. He stepped through the doorway.

At first, nothing happened. He closed the door behind him so as not to be followed, and followed the tunnel-like pathway. After what seemed like an eternity of walking, however, he heard fighting - screaming and swords clashing. He snuck toward the next corner and peeked around it.

He couldn't believe his eye.

There, maybe ten feet away from where he stood, lay Papyrus, slowly crumbling to a fine golden powder. Standing over him was a boy - eighteen at the most - wearing a blue swim team jacket and holding a celestial-bronze sword.

The boy turned and looked directly at Sans.

Sans woke up screaming. He was still in his post; he must've dozed off. His eye was still glowing.

"Papyrus. I have to find Papyrus."