So here we are at Chapter 2. Thanks for coming back to read! And to those for whom this is your first time tuning in, WELCOME!

When we last saw our cast of characters, they were going through the inventory down in the lab and making notes on all of the things they should keep or throw away in preparation for what Dr. Gaster has affectionately dubbed "Spring Cleaning"

Gaster has gone off to get some paperwork done, leaving his apprentice, Sans to finish up the last room. But is he really alone in there?

Without further ado, let's continue with Chapter 2!

Chapter 2

Salvage

Sans had to backpedal when he saw. In the darkness of the storage room, there was another person there waiting for him! The figure was tall and thin . . . almost . . . Skeletal. It was slumped over in the corner and it used the nearby box as a leaning post. On top of this . . . it was completely naked as it slouched motionless in a crumpled pile.

Catching his breath and recovering from the shock, Sans inched closer to the figure and tried again. "H-hey, hey there. Can you hear me?"

There was no response and the figure remained motionless. Its arms were limp at its sides and its eyes were shut as if it could be sleeping there. Looking again, Sans noticed something draping from its neck. A glossy paper caught the light of the dim overhead near the door and reflected back toward him. The laminated sheet had something printed out on it, but from his distance, Sans couldn't make it out. He had to get closer.

As he inched forward, he was able to see the figure more and more clearly. The figure remained still. Forget sleeping. This thing could've been dead. Except it wasn't dust . . . and it had a sign.

Sans was able to make out defined cheekbones and a prominent jaw. Long limbs and a broad ribcage. It was a Skeleton! And not just any Skeleton either!

"Hey there, buddy! Long time, no see!" With all of his trepidation gone, Sans let out the breath he had been holding and with a little bit more of a spring to his step, he approached the unresponsive figure, removing his lab coat and draping it over the Skeleton as if to offer it warmth . . . or maybe just to cover its nakedness. "When did they move you in here? Is that why I couldn't find you?" He easily found a suitable resting place beside the immobile figure and settled in quickly next to his best comedic test subject.

He knew the Skeleton would not talk back. In fact, it had been inactive for quite some time and Sans knew it. In fact, on nights he couldn't sleep, he would make his way down to the lab just to find it so he could have someone to talk to. It made the best audience when he wanted to work out the best delivery on a new joke and it made the best listener when he needed someone to vent to.

For not having any ears, this Skeleton listened better and more intently than any of the others would. Sans didn't feel comfortable enough with the others to really divulge the things on his mind. And even Dr. Gaster wouldn't be able to listen completely without imposing his own ideas and making suggestions for solutions to whatever it was Sans was talking about. He supposed that was the doctor's job after all, but sometimes, Sans didn't need a doctor to help "fix" his problems. He needed a friend to listen to them.

That's sort of what this guy's role had become. Ever since it suddenly stopped functioning, the Skeleton had sort of transformed into Sans' part-time worry doll. It would never try to offer solutions, or find justification in life, or try to change the subject to something more pleasant, or try to find ways to distract him, or pointlessly tell him to "cheer up" and Sans supposed that's what he liked about its company.

"It really has been a long time since I've been in to see you, hasn't it?" Sans sighed as he leaned his skull back to rest against the wall behind him. It felt nice to just let his body go heavy as he sank comfortably beside the Skeleton. "I'm really sorry about that, bro. just got really busy, y'know? Gaster's got us all worked up over 'spring cleanin' and all. You know what that means right?"

Sans waited for the response he knew he wasn't going to get. He used the pause to try to stifle a yawn. It was starting to get late, almost 1:00 am. Normally, the time would not have been much of an issue, but Sans hadn't been sleeping well recently and only got about two hours of sleep the night before. Not only that, but all of the organizing and cataloging for Spring Cleaning was starting to catch up to him. He really did need this break.

"Yup, that's right." Sans sighed putting on his best announcer voice, "We're clearing house. Everything must go. Gaster says it makes for a better work environment and it helps clear the mind so we can focus more on our projects. I dunno though. I kinda like a little bit of organized clutter, you know what I mean? Keeps me from feeling too 'down in the dumps'."

Sans chuckled a little to himself as he let his eyes close. The chuckling became a thoughtful hum.

"I wonder what he's gonna have me do. To be honest, I'm a little worried about it. Normally, it's just more of the stuff that we've been doing today. Salvaging materials, burning what we don't need, reorganizing what's left. This year though, hmm . . . somethin' just feels a bit off. Gaster's had a lot of "special projects" from the king. I dunno much about them though, seem like a 'royal' pain in the ass if you ask me."

The Skeleton remained silent.

"Yeah, you're right, bud. That one wasn't really good."

Sans chuckled to himself as he stood once again to continue his task. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I should get back to work before I end up spending the night down here with you."

With a bit more energy, now that he had good company, Sans was able to sort through the final two boxes and categorize the contents. Dr. Gaster was right. Just about everything in here was complete junk. Broken tools old scribbles from projects long-since scrapped or completed. Some old drawings Alphys must have done. He could tell because of all of the giant eyes and dramatic romantic scenes the characters were drawn in. There were even a few pages that had been heavily scribbled out with the word "Baka" written repeatedly over the content. Just through the scribbles, Sans could just make out . . . Wait . . . Were those two . . . And in the corner there, was that his . . . why was it glowing . . . or wait . . . tentacles . . . ?

Sans quickly closed the sketch book, fighting off an insistent blush. Okay, he could've gone the rest of his life without knowing that Alphys kid could draw like that. Wasn't she a bit young to be thinking about all that anyway?

He peeked a look over to the other Skeleton lounging against the wall. "Well, I'll tell you what. You really dodged a bullet there. 'Anime' as well consider this item gone . . . unless, what do you think? You think Alphys might want it back?"

His friend remained silent.

"Yeah, maybe so. But I'll have to ask her on the down-low." He gave the book to the other Skeleton for safe keeping.

One more box.

And . . . It was full of toys and children's clothing . . . Why would a box like this be in here. Why would Gaster have any use for it? The only thing Sans could think was that maybe he was saving it to give to Prince Asriel for his birthday, but that wasn't for another few months . . . Or maybe it was for the other child . . . Whatever their name was.

Well, either way, the clothes would soon be too small for Asriel and the toys were too juvenile. Though he might find some use for the shovel and the bucket. Maybe he could help the king with his gardening. Sans gave that to his assistant as well. Child shoes, again, too small for Asriel . . . Did Asriel even wear shoes? What about the other child? Whatever. Trash.

"Well, that's everything." Sans announced. "We should be set for tomorrow. Unless I'm forgetting something." He made a quick survey of the room. Everything seemed to be together and organized in their respective piles.

"I guess my work here is done." Sans grinned, shooting another look to the Skeleton waiting for judgement on the ground next to the pile of trash. Sans' smile fell immediately when he remembered. "Oh yeah . . . you had special instructions, didn't you?"

Tentatively, Sans took a kneeling position next to his friend. Remembering the sign around its neck, he fished it out from under the collar of his lab coat. Lifting it into his fingers, he read the special message, tilting the paper toward the light and squinting to see it properly.

"Project: P-497305. Status Failure. Instructions: Destroy abomination A.S.A.P. Burn in core at next Spring Cleaning. Leave no trace."

Sans' face fell once again. "Woah," He sighed, the gravity hitting hard as if his very soul had been pinned to the ground. "I guess someone really wasn't happy with your results. Let's take a look-see."

Going through the pages in his clipboard, Sans found the correct project number, but instead of the series of letters and numbers, he had scratched it out and written a name.

"Aw man. It looks like one day you just up and stopped responding to stimuli of any kind. Why? What happened? Either way, I guess Gaster decided to nix you . . . Kinda sucks if you ask me."

Sans thought it over and let out a breath. "I mean, I can see why he'd want to decommission you . . . But 'abomination' is a bit harsh, don't you think?"

That heavy feeling was firmly setting in. He flipped through the charts and results. Each chart showed the same thing in the Skeleton's progress: a slow but steady start, the phase where it skyrocketed, the stagnation, and the instant where it sharply plummeted far below the lowest point allowed. From there, the tests never took another turn and following failure after failure, the subject collapsed and hadn't moved since. Eventually, the project was scrapped and the Skeleton was thrown into storage until Sans found it.

Sans hummed to himself looking between the conclusions and the subject. "Seriously, though. You started off so strongly and you had so much potential. Heh, I know Gaster was really rootin' for ya . . ." Sans' voice and his tone fell. ". . . and you know what? So was I."

He hung his head, trying to sort out the thoughts swimming around in his skull. Tentatively, Sans extended his reach forward to rest his hand atop the unresponsive skull. "But still, you can't argue against results like these . . . I just . . . wish we could've pinpointed what went wrong before now . . . What happened, bro? Why did you suddenly stop responding? Hmm . . . Well, whatever the reason . . . I'm really sorry. Maybe if I'd been more hands on with you, I could've found a way to help you. But now . . . It just feels like . . . Like somehow I failed you."

More than anything, it's that overwhelming sense of failure that really hits Sans hard. There's a tightening in his throat and chest that he can't begin to describe, like he was being choked by the throat and punched in the gut at the same time. To top it off came the stinging from his eye sockets. He had felt it only a few times since becoming Gaster's apprentice. Even so, he recognized the feeling of onset tears and he refused to become their submissive victim once again. He had to counter this crushing, crippling feeling before it overtook him completely.

"Hey," Sans cheered half-heartedly through a plastered false smile. "before I head off, how about I tell you one for the road?" Sans is absolutely certain that if Gaster or any of the other assistants were around they would groan in irritation and they would even cover their ears rather than listen to another terrible pun. And Gaster . . . Gaster was finally starting to piece it together why Sans would tell his jokes in the first place. At first he would laugh and even join him in telling jokes, contributing a few of his own gems, but slowly, he began to realize a pattern in the frequency. After a while, his laughter turned to worry and his contributions turned into suggestions and distractions.

"Sans," He would say with a bit of trepidation in his approach, "We're so close to a breakthrough. This isn't the time for that. Here, come help me with this project for a while."

Sans knew that Gaster meant well by trying to take his mind off of whatever it was and distracting him, but . . . it really wasn't . . . helping at all.

Sans sighed and looked back to his Skeleton friend with a faint smile in place.

"Hey," he began again, "Have you ever heard the one about the tar monster who quit his job in Hotland and moved to Snowdin?"

Again, he waited for the Skeleton's lack of response before he continued.

"No? Well, he loves it there! Not that he had much of a choice. He got really 'attached' to the place."

The coping mechanism was working a bit. He let out a slight chuckle, choking back any of his own emotion and touching his skull against the motionless one. A little bit of that heavy feeling began to lift away as his audience took priority.

"Heh-Heh, yeah." He began again, his tone a bit brighter, "He 'stuck' around town so long that he ended up taking a new job as a snowman. I heard he's a pretty 'cool dude' now. 'Snow' use fighting your true calling, am I right?"

In his head, Sans could feel the groans of the other lab assistants and the suppressed chuckle from Gaster before he would clear his throat and offer up a distraction. But they weren't his audience now, his Skele-friend was. And he gave no protest to the jokes. No, he didn't laugh, but he didn't push him away either.

"Yeah, I thought you might like that one." Sans sighed and pat the other's head before gathering up the things he set down and made to stand. He removed the lab coat last and draped it over his arm.

"Geez, look at me," He muttered, "blubbering over a science project- and a dud at that. Heh, maybe I really should be getting to bed. Big day tomorrow and all . . . And I don't wanna over sleep and miss out on all the 'fun'."

But for some reason, Sans remained glued to the spot, unable to leave his friend behind. He took another look down to his clipboard and the name he'd written there.

"No harm in telling you about this, right? But it's gonna have to stay our secret, okay?"

The other Skeleton didn't utter a word.

"Your cooperation is greatly appreciated." Sans chuckled. "Anyway, you know Gaster doesn't like us naming our projects, right? Just in case they fail. I guess he thinks we'll end up getting too attached to them or something. Now wherever he got such a ridiculous idea, I have no clue . . . But . . . Either way . . . I guess he was right. I mean just look at me. I'm standing here in the dark telling you all my juiciest secrets like you can hear me or something."

Sans sighed, "You see, truth is, Gaster's not all that great when it comes to penmanship. I mean, he has to translate his assignments from Wingdings into a language the rest of us could read, so I guess it's too be expected. Anyway, when I first saw your project number- written in Gaster's scrawl- I almost couldn't read it. P-497305. It was so disjointed and sloppy that it kinda looked like a name to me.

"I thought he was playing a joke, giving you a name to match his, or maybe mine. Heh, he shot that idea down quick, fast, and in a hurry. Turns out, he's just got sloppy handwriting. He started typing out the assignments after that. Well, even after he corrected me, I still used the name in my own notes. And I think it's a pretty cool name to be honest.

"So, I guess what I'm trying to say here, I mean since this is probably the last time I'll get to tell you so, I just wanted to say, thank you for being here . . . and for putting up with me. You really have been a great audience . . . Thanks, Papyrus."

It was the first time he'd ever said the name out loud, and the thought of it being said in the open was a little foreign to him, but still, it felt a little relieving to get it out there.

The Skeleton . . . Papyrus remained silent.

"Well, I guess that's it then." Sans sighed, turning his back to Papyrus and heading for the door. He was ready for bed and at least three hours of rest before having to get up again for "Spring Cleaning"

"G'night, bro. I'll see you around." Sans' fabricated smile faltered once again as he said the words, "Or, y'know. Maybe not."

With a final look over his shoulder, Sans closed the storage room doors where the heavy locks clicked into place, leaving the room in complete darkness.

Sans went to bed that night with a max of 5 HP. He didn't even notice he had lost one.

Hours later in the pitch darkness of the final storage room, it was just as still and as quiet as Sans had left it. And normally there would be no reason to return to this scene at all if not for the sudden twitch. It went completely unnoticed; there was no one around to witness it. But in the corner of the room, hidden behind boxes and old junk, a bony finger began to twitch. It hadn't moved at all in the past year and a half, but suddenly, for no notable reason whatsoever, it stirred.

With a bit of effort, the Skeleton was able to clench its hand and it even made a noise. It groaned as if trying to wake itself up.

The groaning sound began to gather more and more of a pattern. Slowly, but surely, those patterns became tiny words. The Skeleton had never spoken before, so it had no way of knowing if its words made sense or if they were being received by anyone.

"B . . . Br. . . ." the Skeleton groaned, testing out its voice, "P . . . Pa . . . Pa . . . russss."

If anyone were around, they would have been taking frantic notes or yelling down the hall in an excited attempt to wake Dr. Gaster. Or recording the Skeleton's movements and speech trying to decipher it. But because there was no one around, there was no witness to the miraculous resurrection of P-497305 or of the first time in over a year that its dull eyes opened. They only opened halfway and they couldn't register anything beyond the seemingly endless darkness, but they were finally opened.

No one recorded its first spoken words.

"Br . . . Brooo . . . Where . . . Pap . . . Pap- russss . . . Papyrus . . . Bro where . . . ?"

A.N.: Sorry, I didn't mean for this update to take so long, but there were a few details I needed to iron out. I also decided to play around a little with speech and dialogue and have come to a few decisions.

I know it's canon that Gaster and Papyrus speak in all caps, but I've decided to forego that idea for the moment for the sake of your eyes/ears. Papyrus still might after he starts to really learn to speak. I haven't quite decided that yet. But Gaster will not speak in all caps.

I have decided to do a little detail work on Sans, however. This will require me to go back and edit the first chapter slightly, but let's see if you can figure out the idea I'm going for here. It's subtle, but you guys are observant. I'm sure you can figure it out.

Anyway, I'll see you in Chapter 3!