Sans joined his new cellmate. They patted him on the back. "So you're Sans." "Yeah." Sans went to put his hands in his pockets until he realized pockets were banned. "I have a kid. Young as the one you killed." Sans gulped.
"So Sans, give me one good reason I shouldn't teach you why we don't hurt children." "I uh I'm sorry." Sans exclaimed. That face said Sans had to make amends and quick. "No you're not." They casually affirmed. "You're scared. As you should be."
Sans found himself doing all his cellmates' chores. Not that he gave in that easily, "I'm not making your part of the bed." The human went to kick him, though Sans, having experience with fights, moved out of the way.
This human's intent wasn't to kill him, Sans felt a hurt intention, but not a kill intention. He didn't know if that was relieving or not. Another attempted kick. After so many times, the human kicked from the right, forcing Sans to dodge to the left, where a fist landed on his skull. The headache that resulted was bad, and the guard who was watching ignored it.
Sans didn't even get the luxury of sleep either as his cellmate nearly knocked him in two for waking him up, when he had a nightmare. "Sorry, just a nightmare." "You don't deserve the luxury of nightmares." The man chided, "If you can't keep quiet, don't sleep at all." So Sans was running on little to no sleep. When Sans did fall asleep and have his nightmares, he was physically attacked and warned to be quiet. Just kill me, thought Sans.
Food. Ha, prisoners traded food. Not that anyone traded with him. They outright stole any good food he had, leaving him with the meals that tasted crappy even for a skeleton such as him.
Yard time, Sans found for him, was running time. Sans learned months ago that the guards would ignore anybody hurting him, but if he dared fight back, he was going to be the one punished. But what one learns, many others do too, so prisoners played a game with him. A game he had no choice in. At yard time, whoever catches Sans could pummel him.
Sans won some days. Is not being beaten up considered winning? But on days like the current, Sans was yanked up by the shirt collar hoping it was one of the weaker prisoners. By weaker, he means ones that don't have as much intent to hurt. "Well, well, well." The voice said that it was one of the prisoners who never caught him before. "Did you know I'm related to Frisk?" Was hissed in Sans ear. "No, sir." Sans tried to say respectfully. "Want to know why I'm in prison?"
Should he answer? Or was it a rhetorical question? Sans couldn't see the man's face, the position he was forced in. He was slapped on the back of the head, the most painful hit he ever received. "Yes." Mumbled Sans. Was that the right answer? "I'll tell you. But you ought to know I'm Frisk's uncle." The man paused, as Sans hoped he wasn't going to be limping for days after the man got through with him. "As Frisk's uncle I'm meant to protect them right?" Sans nodded. "So there was this man, who had a knife. You know what, let me show you." The man paused, "As I am allowed my magic due to good behavior."
Sans guessed this human having magic made sense, since Frisk had magic. He wondered if this man knew of Frisk's abilities, but valued feeling too much to ask.
The man placed his free hand on San's chest and he felt himself being transported. He was in the man's body, washing dishes while Frisk, younger than they were now, was catching butterflies with a net.
Then out of nowhere, a knife was at Frisk's neck. He was running towards them, and tackled the man, next thing he knew the aggressor's knife was used to murder the man, a gruesome death, despite the stab in the heart, he still chose to tear the body limb from limb with a simple knife.
Sans had a feeling this did not count as self defense. He was released back into the real world. "Sans, I'll give you some credit." Was hissed. "You didn't kill Frisk so I won't kill you." Sans was being shaken. "But you also threatened my nibbling so we ought to do something about that." "What do you have in mind?" Sans muttered. "You'll like this skeleton. I'm going to protect you." Did he say protect? "Of course, it has a price. You will do whatever I say when I say it." Sans was sweating. Did he really have a choice? "I won't ask anything that will get you in trouble. May ask for some entertainment though." Sans was dropped on the floor. "For starters, I need a work out buddy." Okay, that's not too bad, thought Sans. "So freetime is gym time." "Got it." "Now, dance." "What?" He was slapped across the right cheek. "I said dance!" Sans started dancing, "Do a chicken dance." Sans wasn't really happy about that, but he wasn't being beaten, it had to count for something.