Disclaimer: I do not own Undertale.

Iterations

From Bad to Worse

There was a reason why he spent his time lazing about in their cardboard-plastic house when he was not acting as a scavenger. While seeing struggling monsters everywhere he looked and being clawed at by beggars was more than enough to make him want to hide away, the worst thing was seeing how terribly desperate monsters were willing to treat each other. Stealing from those just as unfortunate. Fighting over the smallest of disagreements. He tried to keep his head down.

And it looked like he had just stumbled upon another rough spot.

He carefully gauged the distance between the tunnel wall and the pile of aggressive monsters from underneath his hood. He was not sure if he had enough room to slip by. Maybe he was thin enough, but it did not look like it was possible to pass by completely unnoticed. He hoped they were distracted enough by whatever was causing them to fight. This particular tunnel was dark enough that anyone would be able to see the red glow in his pocket. Turning to face the wall, he carefully slipped Frisk into his ribcage. A tug on his hoodie's strings and the hood tightened to his face. He could not risk her falling out in front of so many. He probably looked ridiculous with the hood pulled snug around his skull, but he hoped it was enough to hide the glow that was coming off of her soul. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he began walking briskly down the tunnel. Halfway passed and nobody turned. He was almost ready to sigh in relief.

And then a single arm burst up out of the mass, flailing helplessly before being pulled back into the pile of shifting, desperate bodies. Anyone else and he would have ignored it. He could not save everyone and helping others in this kind of environment usually meant trouble that he could not afford. He would not let himself become responsible for leading trouble to his brother.

But he knew that arm. Was helped by that hand. Relied on the person they belonged to more than once.

An arm of fire.

Grillby.

It looked like he would be getting involved, after all. One eye-socket went dark while the other flared blue. He picked up the mass of bodies and flung them away. He stepped between his friend and the angry monsters. Before he could even think of trying to talk sense into them, several rushed him, and he summoned a wall of bones. Like bars on a cage, the bones came through the floor and embedded themselves into the ceiling of the tunnel. The stabbing pain that rippled through his body told him he would not be able to use any magic at all for days. At least, not without using more determination than his body could handle. Shaking away the pain, he stepped towards the frenzied monsters, close enough to get a good look but far enough away that they could not grab him. He observed them carefully.

Some moaned while others wailed but they were all saying the same things.

"cold, so cold."

"need warm."

"fire, please."

Over and over they repeated themselves until their voices seemed to become a single reverberating groan of agony.

The monsters piled onto each other. Climbing and clamoring over each other as they reached through the gaps between the bones. Their eyes were not just vacant, but pitch black. Black ooze dripped from their eyes and mouths. He looked through the throng of monsters, categorizing the afflicted in his mind. Vulkins. Pyropes. Tsunderplanes. All former inhabitants of Hotland. He would need to see Alphys and tell her the black heating sludge did not work. But first, he needed to check on Grillby.

The monster was still kneeling on the floor. He had his daughter cradled in his arms. In the commotion, Sans had not even realized she was there. He sat on the floor beside his friend.

"is she okay?"

The fire monster shook his head, the motion only distinguishable from the way his cracked glasses moved with him. The constant shifting of fire often made him difficult to understand, as he could not speak. But Sans was used to it, having known him so long. He pressed where his mouth would be against the top flames of his daughter's head. Tears of lava dripped down his face. Her green flames seemed to recede slightly and they crackled weakly. There was dust on his black dress pants.

She was dying.

"oh, grillby," he murmured sympathetically. Nobody had ever successfully saved a monster that had already been turning to dust. "what happened?"

He did not lift his head, but fire magic threaded through the air and took form.

"trampled," he read the word aloud sadly.

A pressure on the inside of his ribcage reminded him that Frisk was there.

He tightened the hood as much as it could go, telling her without words that she could not do anything here. He spoke to Grillby, "do you want me to stay with you while she...?"

The fire monster nodded.

Frisk pulsed determinedly and banged against his ribcage.

Sans cut off another route of escape by pulling the hem of his hoodie until it went taut around his body, balling the fabric up in his fist. Grillby was too preoccupied to notice his odd behavior.

She knocked herself against his jaw, as if she was trying to escape through the hole of his hood before suddenly ducking to the side. She was out of his sleeve before he even realized it.

Grillby's eyes immediately caught sight of her floating soul. He had lived long enough to know what a human soul looked like. His eyes went down to his daughter, turning to dust in his lap because of what he assumed was a genocidal human running them all into the Outskirts. The temperature in the tunnel spiked as his flames turned blue in anger.

Three things happened in quick succession.

Grillby threw a massive fireball at Frisk.

Sans, completely depleted of magic, tackled Grillby to the ground.

And Frisk dove down towards Grillby's dying daughter.

The pair had just made it back to their feet as Frisk sunk into the dying body. The fire magic Grillby had called into his hands fizzled out and Sans looked on worriedly.

There was a pulse of determination.

Sans rushed to the body's side, Grillby following just a second after.

Another pulse of determination. Stronger than the first.

Silence.

A third pulse of determination.

And then, Grillby's daughter gasped.

The revived monster had gone into a coughing fit, Frisk tumbling out. Sans had snatched her up while the younger flame monster fell into her father's arms in exhaustion. Both girls were now asleep. Grillby carried his daughter, her head laid against his shoulder. Sans carefully slipped the slumbering Frisk into his pocket and watched as his friend pressed another kiss to his daughter's forehead.

"hey, grillby?"

He met his gaze.

"about..." he trailed off, motioning at his pocket.

Grillby nodded. He would keep his secret.

"thanks."

A/N: Another one up. Two very important things have been set up here, which makes my life much easier. More is coming soon.

Thanks for reading.

Until next time friendlies,

Dfsemina