The dusty, more shaky version of his brother had been wrapped up in Papyrus' arms for a full five minutes, holding back tears that would probably never fall. Sans had always been good at hiding his emotions from his brother, and this Sans wasn't any different. Heavy breathing and a constant light shudder was the only indication that anything was wrong with the smaller skeleton at all. Papyrus barely noticed, though, with his mind reeling from the gravity of the situation. Tears pricked his sockets, threatening to trail down his skull. Who was this monster? What had they done to deserve such a fate? What if they had a family that would miss them? Thoughts of never seeing his own brother again caused those threatening tears to fall. What was he to do? Why had this Sans just killed an innocent monster? His Sans would never do such a thing, even if the monster in question had been really awful to others. Of course, he could tell Undyne, but then what would happen to the Sans currently in his arms? This Sans clearly needed his help and guidance, and he refused to let someone so in need receive the fate of being captured by the Royal Guard. Of course, he didn't exactly know what would happen afterwards, but he knew it wasn't pleasant.

After a few silent minutes of searching for a solution, Papyrus found a possible answer to his problem in the bones that surrounded the pile of dust. They glowed a light lavender, dimly illuminated in the darkness of the alleyway. It was sure to catch the attention of those who passed by. Despite the assurance that the death would be investigated, he sickened at the thought of letting some innocent monster or human come by to find it, no doubt horrified by what they would see. He needed to think of something else. Could he perhaps leave an anonymous tip? It was far from Papyrus' nature to hide behind a phone call or note, but he was willing to make an exception just this once. After all, what would Undyne think of him if she found out he was comforting a monster with a heap of dust only mere feet away from him. He would never be let into the Royal Guard then. Well, that's what he would've believed, anyway.

The taller skeleton slowly retreated from his mass of swirling thoughts, noticing that the dustier Sans had stopped shaking. He began to pull away from the embrace, only to be halted by the Sans grabbing and tugging at his scarf. Papyrus blinked, wiped the tears from his sockets, and looked down at the much smaller figure, who stared back with tired sockets. "W-where are you going?" the Sans rasped, brow furrowed in confusion. "I… need to head home," he responded, voice unusually small, cracked, and unconfident. However, the Sans' expression turned into a relieved one as he seemed to understand. "Oh! I get it." With a bit of reluctance, they were separated. The dusty Sans watched his not-brother with what seemed like love and admiration. While these were two things Papyrus had always wanted, this wasn't exactly what he had in mind.

"Well I guess I'll see you there, eh?" Sans inquired with a tilt of his head. Papyrus' sockets widened some at this. What would his own Sans think upon greeting this… not-him? Would he force him out. "Yes, I suppose I will," he agreed without any thought. The dustier Sans nodded, and after a few moments of grinning up at him, he brusquely strode off. The taller monster watched him with empty sockets, knowing that he was gone the moment he turned the corner.

Papyrus slowly looked over at the dust heap, letting the tears return and quickly begin to fall. No monster, good or bad, deserves this sort of fate; to live their last moment in fear and wondering if they would ever see their family again. The tears turned into full on weeping as he let his emotions flow freely in the alleyway.

On his way back home a good hour later, Papyrus made sure to leave a tip to the guard so it was assured that the slain monster in the alley would not go unnoticed. Upon drying his sockets and returning home, his first order of business was to immediately search for the dusty Sans. However, after a few name calls and deep searching, the bundle of emotions he had met not two hours ago was nowhere to be found. Papyrus was not exactly happy with this, as he was worried for whoever stumbled across that version of his brother while he was about.

"Sans!" he called out, growing more anxious as the seconds passed. He set down the groceries onto the table and tried once more. "Sans? Are you here?"

"'Course I'm here, bro," his brother, his real brother, yawned, sauntering down the stairs. "Watchya need, Paps? Ooh, groceries? Did ya get me ketchup?" Papyrus folded his arms as he watched Sans cross the kitchen and to the counter. As much as he despised the condiment, he did get his brother a hefty bottle of it. It was worth it to see Sans' expression brighten slightly upon looking into the bag. "Ah, you're the best, bro," he chuckled, already removing the safety seal and taking a large sip, staining his teeth a light red. Papyrus cringed at the sight, momentarily forgetting who he had actually been looking for when he had arrived home.

"Well you'd better not use that slop on any of my spaghetti," the younger brother huffed. "I would be very cross with you if you did." "Yeah yeah, bro," Sans dismissed casually as he set the bottle down. "I don't see why it matters, though. I'm eating tomato either way. There's no need to get so saucy."

"Brother…" Papyrus sighed, his expression becoming more firm.

"Oh c'mon, you should have seen that one coming! Geeze, you really need to ketchup!"

"Sans."

"I mean, you know I love this stuff from my skull tomatoes."

"Sans, we have phalanges, not toe-"

"Don't get upsetti over spaghetti, Paps!"

"Sans that isn't even a real pun don't do this to me!"

Sans just burst into a chuckle fit at his sibling's misery. "Okay, I'm done," he assured him. "No tometti on the spaghetti. Got it. So is that tonight's dinner or…?" "Well, I was going to make it tomorrow," Papyrus explained, "but only because I thought you were staying at Grillby's for supper. Do you think you can fend for yourself until then?" Sans nodded and began to trot back upstairs. "You got it, bro," he drawled, disappearing behind the door to his room.

Once the groceries were properly put away, Papyrus was able to properly think of why he had been worried in the first place: his brother's copy. Trying not to alarm his elder sibling, Papyrus was able to keep himself from darting up the stairs at the speed of light. What proceeded during the next hour was a deep search in every crack and crevice of the house, trying to find the hooded skeleton from only a few hours before. His searches came up empty, and it wasn't until he found himself looking under the fridge that he had decided to call it quits. He had looked everywhere, including Sans' favorite accidental late-night teleportation spots (the dish cabinets, the fireplace, behind the fridge, and atop the ceiling fans). It was around this point that Papyrus began to fear that, as much as he'd hate to admit it, he may have made that terrorful hour up. It didn't make much sense as to why his mind would make up such a strange event, though. The hooded Sans had said that he would see him back at home, hadn't he? As strange as this predicament was, he tried to push it to the back of his mind. The subject brung back memories of what he had experienced in that alley, making him feel a bit sickly.

As impossible as it may seem to just push something as memorable as that meeting away, Papyrus found himself living the rest of his afternoon in peace, only thinking of the Sans occasionally as he focused on more distracting tasks. However, this peace wouldn't last long.

Papyrus hummed to himself as he brushed his teeth, finding it difficult as always to wash out his mouth due to the lack of lips. He was already in his pajamas and had already watched the sun set behind the horizon, but he didn't feel too sleepy as usual, so on his way to his room, he grabbed a crossword to do whilst in bed. Unfortunately, he had to go through a slight change of plans upon seeing that his bed was already occupied.

There was Sans; well, it was the not-Sans. He was hunched over himself whilst sitting on the bed, playing with something that was in his hands. It was now, in the bright light of his bedroom, that Papyrus was able to see just how different this Sans was to his own. His entire body was slumped and moved so sluggishly, and yet every so often a jerk would tear through his frame. His clothes were so faded and covered with a heavy layer of gray powder. Papyrus reminded himself to clean his clothes later. The phalanges of his hands seemed eager to touch almost everything, with one hand playing with what turned out to be a pen and the other gently gliding over the fabric of the blankets below him. Those sockets sagged and were heavily lidded, and yet those brightly glowing eyelights seemed to flick around and take in almost everything there was. He twitched and looked up at his not-brother upon hearing him get close to the room. Papyrus was surprisingly quiet when he wasn't storming around, shouting his boastful praises to himself, so this gave him a bit of a startle. With how much this clone twitched at the slightest of noises and touches, it could be inferred that he was more attentive to his surroundings than the original. This led Papyrus to wonder why he shook so much. The shaking could be likened to a Temmie vibrating should one be a bit more creative.

"You're here," he stated, mismatched eyelights trained at the figure in the doorway, bringing him out of his thoughts. Papyrus nodded vigorously as he slowly shut the door. "Nyeh heh, why yes I am. This is my room after all," he replied with a light jesting tone. He noticed that the pen he was going to do his newspaper puzzles with was the one currently in Sans' hand. He wasn't doing anything spectacular with it; a few clicks of the spring-loaded button and slow twirls were about it. "Yeah. It is. I forgot," not-Sans murmured, watching the skeleton unblinkingly. One would say it was even unnerving, but Papyrus could never think of his brother in such a way. Still, he hesitated when deciding to sit on the bed.

The two sat in silence for a few good minutes.

"I accidentally went to our old house," the shorter spoke suddenly, obtaining Papyrus fleeting attention. The way he said it had a bit of humor, even bits of a chuckle, but the dreary tone of voice put on had Papyrus unable to feel happy. "Our?" he said, tilting his skull slightly. He was ignored. "And, well, you weren't there. Obviously." There was more of that dead humor. The clicks of the pen became more frequent as he went on. The permanent grin lessened some in grandeur. "And, for a second there, I thought you had lied to me." With a quick flash of movements, phalanges wrapped around the pen and squeezed tightly, crushing the insides and causing both the spring and button to shoot out at projectile speeds. Papyrus looked to see where the pieces had landed, trying to process what had just happened, but was immediately brought back by laughter; dry, strained laughter that seemed to teeter on the edge of forced and just barely pushing it. At first, he was afraid this noise would wake up his Sans. "I mean, what was I thinking?" dusty Sans giggled, almost in a way that could be described as maniacal. "You? Lie to me? No… I don't know what came over me there, either. But, hey, now you're here. I found you. We're home."

Papyrus watched the other Sans for a few moments, his mind once again rethink what he should do in such a situation as this. Well, there only was one thing he could do, wasn't there?

Papyrus came to a stand, immediately catching the full attention of his guest. Without a word, he politely excused himself from the room, only to reappear a few minutes later with arm full of bundled up blanket and pillows. Whatever dusty Sans had been expecting, it apparently hadn't been this, as he furrowed his brow in confusion at the bundle of fluff that Papyrus proceeded to dump on the floor in between them.

"Papyrus, wha-

"Well, you're staying the night, aren't you?" Papyrus asked, his hands on his pelvic bone. "So I, being the great sleepover host that I am, have gathered a collection of blankets and pillows for you!"

Hooded Sans was quiet at first, eyelights shooting down to the bundle before flicking right back up to Papyrus. His grin suddenly widened as those tired sockets lifted slightly, appearing more awake than before. A chuckle escaped and bones outstretched to take the blankets into his arms. "Thanks, Paps," he whispered, sockets closing as he brought one of the soft pillows to his sternum.

"It's quite alright, Sa- erm…." Papyrus stopped himself. While this skeleton was surely a version of his brother, calling him the same name just felt odd. Well, to be fair, the fact that there were two Sanses in one house was boggling enough. He would need to come up with some sort of name. Sans 2.0 perhaps? "Er, it's quite alright. It is my duty as host to make sure all my guests enjoy their stay."

The lankier skeleton got back into bed, bringing the covers up to his ribcage. He reached over for his pen, phalanges scrambling to find the small object, only to remember that said pen was destroyed only minutes ago. If his new roommate noticed this, he didn't seem apologetic. So instead, Papyrus grabbed a book from his nightstand over war tactics and puzzle schematics. He was somewhat tempted to ask his new friend to read to him, but decided against it and just began reading.

Halfway through a page of his book, Papyrus realized he was being watched, and quite intently at that. He raised the tops of his sockets over the book at take a glance at his guest, and sure enough, there he was, staring straight at him with sleepy yet focused look. This reminded him of all the questions he had stored away. Where did he come from? Why was he here? What is wrong with his magic? If there was another Sans, was there another Papyrus as well? What was he going to call this Sans?

His eyelights flicked down to the faded clothes he wore.

Dust. He would call this new Sans Dust. As much as it sickened him to relate a version of his brother to a word that essentially meant "death", it sure did fit with all that dusty powder on his clothes. If there was another Papyrus, he apparently didn't take care of his brother like he did with his.

He took his sockets off of Dust to keep reading, ignoring the continuous stare he was getting. He had grown used to staring in the Underground. Surprisingly, Dust kept this up for a few hours until Papyrus felt it appropriate to go to bed. It was odd, seeing as if there was nothing else to do, his brother usually just fell asleep on the spot.

Papyrus put the book neatly on his bedside and got up to flick off the lights, knowing that Dust's eyelights were trailing him the entire time. "Goodnight, new roommate," he chirped, hopping back into bed once the lights went out. He only glanced at the glowing red and blue lights before falling asleep.

Sans watched Papyrus fall asleep. He wanted to join him. He wanted to reach out and touch him, grab him, hug him, cradle him, cherish him.

But he couldn't. He didn't trust himself. He didn't trust his hands. With how relaxed he looked at the moment, he couldn't help but notice just how defenseless he was like this. The house was silent, but he could still hear them, goading him on, trying to cloud the rational thoughts that still clung on so desperately. He could still hear him, ringing out in his mind, even when he was right there in front of him. His bro- no. He was nowhere to be seen, but he could still hear him, albeit more clearly than the rest of them.

He got up, making sure he didn't wake his brother up from his slumber. Exiting the room, he looked around the house. He didn't need much other than a marker to tell where he was. He descended the stairs, careful not to make a sound. He looked towards the fridge, quickly spotting his goal: a calendar, MTT brand, of course. From all the Xs that marred the clean white page under Mettaton's posed body, it was mid-March. The fifteenth, to be exact. But there was no year. He practically ripped the calendar from it's place, causing the magnet to go flying and fall somewhere unseen. He closed the book to take a look at its front. Clearly printer across the front in cursive was the current year. Well then.

Sans carelessly tossed the book onto the counter and went around to explore a house he should've known, ignoring their cries to go back upstairs and finish what he should've done. Instead, he walked into the living room, taking in everything he could see. The couch had been moved from the underground. So had the TV. There was his pet rock, well sprinkled and sitting on the counter. Everything just screamed familiarity, and yet he felt as though he didn't belong. Nothing here was right. He jolted when he saw a flash of red. Was this home or hell?

There was still one place to look.

Sans made his way back up the stairs, pushing back their requests to go straight to Papyrus' room. Instead, he stepped to his own room. He stared at the polished wood, so different from the faded spruce he was used to. Hesitation overtook him at first, afraid of what he would see inside. A jerk ran through his frame, forcing him to grab onto the doorknob. They wanted him to go inside. They wanted proof. So Sans twisted the knob, only to be halted by the lock embedded into the door. Of course it was locked. It was only an insignificant obstacle, however, and soon enough he was inside the room, scanning its contents. The lights were off, but the glow of his irises gave him a perfect, albeit filtered, view of the room; he didn't want to end up surprising anybody.

The room was left exactly as he remembered. Unused treadmill, ball of unwashed clothes, mattress on floor, self-sustaining tornado in the corner; everything was perfect. He had always been one for familiarity after all, even if it had been an acquired taste. When he saw there was no one on the mattress, they suddenly quieted. They didn't feel so bold anymore. His grin widened some as let out a sigh of relief. He no longer felt that chill that always racked his body.

Papyrus was still asleep when he returned. Sans himself wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. How could he at a time like this. Instead, he approached his brother's bedside, getting so close that the glow of his eyelights dimly reflected against Papyrus' skull. Sans put a gentle hand on one side of the bed, wanting to creep closer just to be able to touch him again.

"You were my biggest mistake, Papyrus," he spoke, barely below a whisper. "You are what I regret." Phalanges brung themselves forward to gently brush against his brother's hand, which seemed to relax to his touch. "I promise to never hurt you like that again." He gently wrapped his hand around Papyrus', his body freezing slightly at the foreign touch. His brother, however, unconsciously latched on, sighing peacefully in his sleep. "I will fix everything I had ruined. I won't mess up again. I won't hide ever again." He closed his sockets, relishing in this rare silent moment.

He was home.